Reviews
The Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Exactly what it needed to be - masterful.
And so it all ends – intricately and as every bit as impressive as its predecessors. Bruce Wayne is now an early retired recluse, unneeded by a now safe Gotham – that is until he has to don the suit yet again with the emergence of Bane .
What makes this final entry so satisfying (though it's no spoiler to say there are new directions it could take) is that it returns to a city in the wake of The Joker's zeitgeist terrorism. There is a genuine sense that Batman is no longer needed – all the more triumphant therefore when Bruce finally has to wear the suit.
There are unnecessary amounts of flashbacks, and although you get used to it, Bane never sounds like you'd want him to. But these flaws are so minor, that taken as a whole The Dark Knight Rises is an overwhelming triumph – one that has true emotional engagement that transcends the costumes and superhero gloss.
Ultimately this is Bruce Wayne's story again, appropriately given the cyclic nature of the plot. It's not without being overly obvious to say for a full understanding of The Dark Knight Rises, Batman Begins needs to be seen beforehand. The Dark Knight too.
On the surface the premise is an echo of Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns, however the only crossover is that of thematic content – the isolating nature of Bruce no longer needing to maintain a duel identity. But it'd be a lie to say The Dark Knight Rises isn't confident in testing the suspension of disbelief that matches some of the comics' most extreme ideas (concerning vehicles).
But Nolan makes it works, aligning some of the less 'real' content into his own interpretation of Batman's world seamlessly. And given the furious momentum of the film it rarely feels rushed; certainly doesn't drag for a film near three hours.
As for Bane – he never leaves the shadow of The Joker, especially given the similarly chaotic nature of the characters. But whereas The Joker was unsettling in his spontaneous behaviour, Bane is far more controlled and has logic for actions. This is good thing in providing a discernible storyline, but what made The Dark Knight so exciting was the fear of being led into the unknown through The Joker's unprovoked actions. But it's a lie to say The Dark Knight Rises is at all bad. If it doesn't win Best Picture (which it won't) then no Batman film ever will.
Prometheus (2012)
It Should Have Been A Masterpiece
Where to start? It doesn't take an Alien fan, or even a film fan to know Prometheus is a big event. It's every bit as visually stunning as the trailer suggested, Fassbender is as every bit effortless as everyone has mentioned, but every problem that it suffers circulates back to its script.
The writer, Damon Lindelof, doesn't shake his typical Lost quandary of asking twice as many questions, to half as many answers meaning it is simply a starting point to a franchise. Example (spoiler-free), a 'twist' occurs towards the start of the third act involving two major characters that adds absolutely no narrative significance. It's as if Lindelof decided interjecting something, even as tenuous as this, was better than having nothing at all.
Alien seems an appropriate parallel but Alien is entirely different. Claustrophobic, tense, characters who we cared about, feared for, who spoke wonderful dialogue (my personal favourite, Ash calling the xenomorph "Kane's son" – simple, brilliant). None of this is in Prometheus, even the main characters are largely underdeveloped. It's a series of issues that don't evolve – Shaw's Christianity completely unchallenged, David's allegiance never really brought into light (less enigmatic, more irritating) it sets up great ideas, but ones that never formulate beyond the 'Why?' stage.
And scares? All would agree Alien maintained an unwavering level of fear by revealing so little. Prometheus has it on full display, leaving nothing to the imagination. CG may be an innovation, but is sure as hell overkilled what would have been more effective through minimalism. It's interesting that the most horrifying scene involved no extra-terrestrial life, just a person against another person.
This rant would make it seem like Prometheus is a bad film. This is not the case. But there is so much wrong with it, so much that makes six months hype evaporate within two mere hours, it's a film that should have been a reward after enduring the latter two entries of the Alien franchise. But it's muddled, often silly, and generally an upsetting experience.
Somewhere (2010)
Misunderstood or minimalistic? Prattle or perfection?
There is a problem. Sofia Coppola is either a genius or confident enough to think that her work isn't going to be dismissed as being pretentious by a large portion. The issue is either you're so delved in your own thoughts about what she is trying tell us that you struggle to comprehend such mastery, or everything becomes lost in translation (pun intended) and the whole piece seems to lack the basic necessities of conventional movies.
Yet by being insubstantial isn't that entirely the point? Johnny Marco leads a life of meaningless pursuits, gracefully freed when his daughter Cleo visits. That is everything one could expect of a narrative. It carries the same neglect that Lost in Translation has for a story, presenting a similar trial of patience, but what we get is a beautiful examination of characters who are lacking falsities in the way they talk, act and behave.
There are subtle tonal shifts in Johnny's life, where moments of simplistic elegance (ice skating) are juxtaposed with intentionally impassive emptiness (pole dancing) – which is not meant as a criticism, in fact it validates the superficial lifestyle of Johnny. They aren't always as understated as this though, it even hits the explicit notes of asking "Who is Johnny Marco?" but by doing this Sofia reassures the audience that she isn't feeding her ego but expecting the viewer to question the characters in such ways.
A scene where Johnny gets his face caste actually got me questioning whether I should be perceiving this as Johnny being trapped, ignorant or just big headed. It is by act of this observation that I could appreciate Sofia's work more than usual. The undeniable charm however lied in the crux of the film: the relationship of the father and the daughter here is presented as something so common that when given as much attention as seen here, the emotional power of it seems to stagger through with an unsung force.
The only noticeable problem was the similarities it shared with Lost in Translation. Crossovers were always expected given the central relationships in each film; however some obvious transfers are seen, like the drinking party, the implied insomnia, the phone calls, even the showers. By replacing these we could have been left with something easily as superb as the latter, but thankfully are still left with something that is very, very good.
Sofia is clearly a director of moments than complex narratives; expect an untainted and calmly paced character piece that delivers simplicity and heart, hand in hand.
Drive (2011)
The Best Film of 2011 (so far)
For a year where the lack of spectacular has been crushingly disappointing Drive stands out even more impressively than it normally would. Tonally consistent, staggeringly hypnotic and beautifully stylised (but not detracting from the sheer realism) Drive marks itself as a clear contestant for one of the best films of the year.
The story is simple, an anonymous driver who works as a stuntman for the movies is also a heist driver who gets drawn into a world of crime. It's not the high octane adrenaline fuelled ride it markets itself as, but a richly characterised and carefully handled story. Not as experimental or misdirected as Bronson, it operates far more precisely; whereas Bronson never gave the impression it knew what it wanted to do with itself Drive maintains gritty realism throughout, never dawdling on irrelevance and offering us some truly captivating moments.
Its lack of superficial (or rather Hollywood) elements is greatly reassuring; Fast and Furious eye-rolling implausibility this isn't. Instead we get some genuinely real moments that we never question as eye candy and always has relevance to the story. Gosling is terrific, Winding Refn even better, do everyone a favour and see this best film that's hit cinema's this year.
The Change-Up (2011)
Likable leads make this, er, likable
Unless it's directed by Michael Bay low expectations are mostly surpassed. The Change-Up thankfully wasn't directed by Michael Bay and delivered a light-hearted bromance that rejigged the Freaky Friday formulae for older audiences.
It has little of The Hangover Part II's laziness nor of Wedding Crashers lack of laughs and instead settles for something between the two. It borrows heavily from other body-switch comedies, presenting little that hasn't been seen before; the same life-reflecting nostalgia has been built in, as has the character's new found appreciation to predictable success. There are also worrying lulls in the humour, actually at one moment I realised I hadn't had an excuse to laugh for about twenty minutes but still, those were my only issues.
Bateman and Reynolds are oddly suited as the hapless victims, while Leslie Mann actually gives a surprisingly poignant performance for a comedy. Poor Olivia Wilde was used, as she was in Tron: Legacy and Cowboys & Aliens, as nothing more than wasted eye-candy getting a minute amount of screen time. Still it has plenty of laughs, is refreshingly unannoying and isn't subtle about what to expect.
Sucker Punch (2011)
Defending the misunderstood film that is Sucker Punch.
What is likely to be the most underrated movie experience of the year, Zack Snyder's barrage of girls, gun and giant samurai is a misunderstood effort from the man behind 2009's excellent adaptation of Watchmen. Yes it's not without flaws, yes it can be predictable (especially the "5th item") but it doesn't mean that it isn't everything that most films seem to miss these days: fun.
Fun isn't usually associated with child abuse and an asylum but that is where the curtain opens the audience at. An opening silence gives great anticipation, a tragedy occurs and protagonist Baby Doll is shunted into an asylum by her step-father, where she awaits lobotomy in five days' time.
It should be said at this point that this review is coming from someone who openly loathes the style over substance limbo of an era in which we live, what with CGI and 3D being used as an excuse for anything considered a showcase for this technology.
Sucker Punch boasted a similar exercise course of stylish nonsense yet the finished result left this reviewer in a state of pleasant surprise; the concept was highly original – though sprinkled with an influx of other influences which ultimately could have been the films downfall had the context they been used in feel more of a parody than a series of dream sequences. Orcs, dragons and robots have never been more refreshing out of their native genres.
As the visuals go, there was never going to be an issue there. It's easily Snyder's best looking film to date, and for a written debut the plot is on par with the heavily –action orientated 300 in that it takes a back seat once the films' issue has been established. It's only noticeable dent in its armour is the characterisation, or rather lack of characterisation. For a film nearing the two hour mark the audience are relatively unrewarded when trying to relate to any of the five heroines' of the story.
It may be great to see that Baby Doll, Blondie, Sweet Pea, Amber and Rocket haven't been assigned to overused archetypes – that would be taking the easy route, yet there's not even been a road taken here. The characters as such remain relatively hollow, being left as shell-less, albeit undeniably attractive characters.
There's not even, what you could coin as a 'Fenster' wherein a character with next to nothing about them can morph into something noticeable, even memorable. They are what could be the fully-fledged realisation Pulp Fiction's Fox Force Five, each an assassin with their own weapon speciality; perhaps this is how the audience is supposed interpret their personalities, each instrument being reflective of the character using it.
That is my only complaint, everything else did, as Big Daddy put it: "Knock(ed) me for a loop", with three particular, but unspoiled scenes, breaking a monotony that had infected the infinite amount brainless action films that have preceded Sucker Punch – and sadly continue to follow after it. While the scenes aren't anything ground-breaking they play to Zack's strengths – detaching from the action so it does not cease to stand impressive next time round and focusing on the realism that confronts them back in the reality.
Critics have mauled it, calling it "dull", "senseless" and even "plot less" yet the fact many fans have interpreted it as having meanings on a deeper level, particularly the importance of Sweet Pea's character, suggests there may have been a certain naivety from critics - a definite contribution to its growing cult status (there is an excellent interpretation on the IMDb Message Board that is worth a look). You could also throw weapon argument mentioned above into the mix for further evidence of such ignorance - I also stand guilty of missing this possibility.
The film has also been accused of being overtly sexist, but drawing another parallel to 300, 300 men are seen topless and not a single complaint is raised. But five scantily-clad women and one imaginary brothel are seen and all hell has broken loose. 300 got a reasonable 60% on Rotten Tomatoes and Sucker Punch just 22%; both are relatively balanced in terms of their stories, character's and direction yet the reception of each is hugely unbalanced. It effectively asks who the sexist ones really are.
Sucker Punch is misunderstood, not question about it. It's not the genre changing cult films that Blade Runner or Donnie Darko are, but it certainly deserves the fans that it has generated and I for one eagerly anticipate the Extended Cut to see what else it has to offer.
X: First Class (2011)
Xcellent
Though many have falsely labelled this the Batman Begins of the X-Men franchise, it is undoubtedly the reboot needed for the franchise after 2009's disastrous X-Men Origins: Wolverine, and while it doesn't have the pulsating energy of Kick-Ass nor merit the bravo of Batman Begins it does provide the much needed direction after films 3 and 4.
It'd be fair to call this a prequel too, back tracking to the origins of its famous founders of the X-Men. James McAvoy stars as smooth talking Charles Xavier, a recently successful graduate and Michael Fassbender as the tormented victim of WWII who seeks revenge. The two ultimately meet and share the same goal for wanting to help fellow mutants but go to extreme and opposite lengths to achieve this goal.
Vaughn yet again proves there are still areas to be found and new notes to be struck in the superhero genre. The action has never looked (or felt) more intense, the drama more emotional but rewarding and the general experience one that will surely be relived by people who aren't just hard-core comic book viewers.
However it would have far more impressive as a debut for a first time director, and you can't help but draw comparisons to Vaughn's previous (and in Kick-Ass's case: better) work. It lacks the brilliance for someone who knows how to handle the genre and material he is presented with, but don't get me wrong for the fast-paced ride it proves to be X-Men First Class is a lot of fun, and with an unexpected cameo, great chemistry – particularly between Fassbender and McAvoy and a story that is both satisfying and original it's definitely worth a look.
Just don't go in expecting too much – you may be left feeling slightly disappointed.
True Grit (2010)
True Hit
Departing from the tame Westerns of 60's, the Coen's have conquered (not remade) a material fit for a modern age. Tailing Mattie Ross as she embarks to find the someone with 'True Grit' as to avenge the cold-blooded death of her father. Notorious Rooster Cogburn who is being trialled for his merciless shoot-sprees reluctantly accompanies her along with LaBeouf, played by a more dimensional Damon.
Bridges talons the slobby, cocky, yet successful tyrant with mumbling prosperity; think how different Brando can be with subtitles in The Godfather, it would only be annoying if it wasn't a memorable trait of the character. Hailee though steals the show with her nigh-high maturity and an aptitude for trading, if either of them will win the Oscar, its almost certainly will be her (would be a tad harsh to ignore Colin, again).
Compared to the Coen's last flirtation with Western this is more rugged and down to earth, dealing less with intense character portrayal and enigmatic tones, frequently breaking the ice quotable Bridges moments (there are many to be found) or a round of obliterating food that's tossed into the air. Either way it feels more welcome mainstream, and is a no brainer for Coen fans.
Fanboys (2009)
An attack of a Clone.
From the heart of all stupidly surreal, next-to-nothing budgeted road trip movies is the motivation to actually want to watch it, and you'd think if it was based on a group of dysfunctional nerds who have an unhealthy craving for everything and anything Star Wars most people could actually enjoy the experience for once.
A great shame then that despite having an expectancy of daftness (regularly unaccompanied by humour) everything gets taken overboard. Take the loathing of the Trekkies, who for the their first few appearances are welcome 'rivals' but the whole act spirals out of sanity when all they seem to be capable of is being another pointless obstruction over and over and over again.
It doesn't even loiter on the characters (their terminally ill friend, might as well have been mentioned in passing for all the good it did) who served well as shifting parts of the background with great efficiency. If there was something to like, it didn't go full blown Napoleon Dynamite and it hasn't blurred into the over-filled category of 'It looks good so that will do'.
It's occasionally fun for sure, but the only excusable alibi succumbed was the guilty pleasure excuse or on the basis of its Star Wars orientation, which neither could be laden as valid.
Black Swan (2010)
Billy Elliot eat your heart out.
Signature of Afronofsky is his sublime yet controversial camera condensation of total self sacrifice in another masterful, more horror orientated sporting output. Settling on the other end of The Wrestler's steroid pumping, muscle bulging, manly man's movie is the delicate, tender perfectionist Nina; who through a series psychological and wince worthy moments drowns in the less angelic, antonym of her former self. Ambivalence really doesn't get better than this.
The gruelling consummation process of her ordeal is much like Afronofsky's technique. Buy into it and you'll have joined the elemental delight his devotee's bask in, or else it's a sink or swim experience that only leads one other way. Tragically it can still feel something of an experiment to his most assertive fans, when its tendency to become carried away with the visual metaphor feels like a flawed burden in contrast to the head scratchers that dominate and support the majority of the film.
Not acrimonious enough to contend as an equivalent to the malevolent bitterness of Nina's predecessor Beth (a vicious comeback for Winona) but gathers frustration in the boycotting of narrowly missed perfection. What is, without a nail splitting pirouette of a doubt, isn't Natalie Portman's circumventing of a sickly sweet scarlet ballerina image (undeniably helpful though) but the gradual shattering of her once pure demeanour to raw, savage precision, devoid of imperfect acting.
She fits into the rare category of actually being born to play a role, uproar hopefully would persist a minimal Oscar nomination if that is what would subsist, because frankly had she faulted just one scene the entire film could have swan dived its way out of brilliance. A film of the year, no. A performance of the year, you can bet your tutu.
The Spirit (2008)
Tragic enough to be a Shakespeare play.
In an age where boastful visuals often outweigh bad scripts, The Spirit is a real testament that no matter how iconic the black and white baked descendant of Sin City can be, an eyeful of imagination can't be sustained by earful of nonsense.
True though it may be that 300 wasn't exactly a sand swept Memento, it did a mighty fine job of keeping entertaining and as for Sin City that was a lavishly violent chronicle of some of the most deranged archetypes ever seen on screen (and paper). So where does that put The Spirit? Find the row marked: disappointing, OTT and just plain daft and The Spirit will be located right at the top.
In fact it feels like one prolonged trailer that is a parody of everything that makes comic book adaptations have a wider appeal rather than a focused devotee mind frame. If it hadn't been marketed as the seductive and misleading mess it is, then at least audiences could have been open to the possibility that all the cast seem to talk like they boycott anything that isn't being shouted or sound remotely like how humans talk.
It's easy to blame the acting, but when everyone of them is performing like they were in a high school play then it fabricates the question of how were they hoodwinked into something so dysfunctional? Take this line for example: "Eurgh. Free-range chickens with their big brown ugly-ass eggs." A deluded statement from Jackson as the most unvillainous villain of all time (makes you appreciate how lucky the people in the plane of Snakes on a Plane were).
As long as it doesn't cause the demise of Sin City 2 this will be blissfully ignored. If not, this egg's about to get even uglier.
The King's Speech (2010)
Is there already a contender for the best film of 2011?
Marla, Darcy, Captain Barbossa, even Dumbledore. Not the type of portrayal and mixture of past roles that could make you believe The King's Speech is anything shy of fantastic casting. Braving these performances, helm the Oscar potentials Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush and Helena Bonham Carter; particularly the foremost whose equilibrium of the frustration and determination never wavers.
As well as presenting the daunting public speaking story arch of Albert's stutter, there's the more demoralizing dilemma of not being able to tell his children a story without the uphill effort to maintain his casualness.
These aren't remedied by a drab series of music maimed sessions to ease this problem that lead to an unsatisfying voila; throughout all the exertion it takes him there's a very discrete pendent that dangles a thoughtful what-we-take-for-granted moral without taking it to full blown bluntness.
Firth defines George VI as less of a standard cardboard cut-out King (take note dimensionless Eric Bana in the granny friendly mediocrity of The Other Boleyn Girl) just through his impediment frequently getting the better of him. In one scene, to great humour, his anger is exerted to a more profanity filled outcome which won't be spoiled as to be savoured but won't be hard to spot. Just one of Lionel's perverse methods, that effectively contrasts to the heroic struggle of man vs. stutter.
Modelled to integrity, grandeur and supreme casting, The King's Speech boasts quite possibly the year best (and earliest) film.
Un prophète (2009)
Your favourite gangster film of the year has arrived with extra lack of forgiveness.
Subtly boasting to international audiences a harvested praise and Oscar nomination, the events within A Prophet neither gleam with the flamboyant optimism of Amelie (bad example though it is, only comparable in the fact they are French and superior) nor the opening purity of The Godfather, which was followed by a rise and fall process in domination.
Comparable to the latter, A Prophet takes route z, beginning with a dysfunctional portrayal of prison corruption/life then making the lead character, Malik, become a man who would not recognise his pre-prison self after he falls under the, racially narrow Corsican mafia.
Throughout this unstable relationship A Prophet invests a portion of Malik's life to his brotherly relationship with Ryad, his inmate friend, opening the door to a small but definitely welcome sub-plot that levels out the gritty, harsh blanket of his mafia encounter in the prison.
At times the assignments Malik takes under his belt may seem extreme, but the film doesn't rely on a sloppy narration to explain when you can see this process of power gradually happening for yourself. The film also leaves the ending vaguely ambiguous rather than closing the book definitively, making it a detachable change from other gangsters which take the more conventional clean cut finale.
Terminator Salvation (2009)
Definite improvement on 3, but please don't make a Saw series out of it.
Picking up from the scrap metal inspired dregs of its predecessor, which left a bitter aftertaste, Salvation is grantable of being a vast step up from that. As a 4th instalment though, it is the Indiana Jones of 2009. Not being tragic enough to be a Shakespeare play (like the latter's abysmal finale), or the zesty jumpstart sought after, which at least ditches the shackles of its formulaic overtone that lost its voice after 3.
Migrating the series to the less traditional, but frequently seen apocalypse of 2018 the man vs. machines battle wages on with John Connor (welcomingly replaced by Christian Bale) being the core source of hope, basically replicating the whole Zion affray and Neo worship with several tweaks.
McG has done well for himself, showing he's more than just a fan who wanted to direct (direction in Charlie's Angels = near nought), but someone who understands the origins of the series that were mentioned in 1 and 2, like the Clone Wars were in Star Wars.
Now it seems the laser beams, crumbling architecture and global deterioration have been revamped for a more modern age though still maintaining some of the essence Cameron introduced to the audience briefly in his future depiction. It doesn't produce the unwanted runt of a litter that could have been an Emmerich and Bay combined mishap, but borrows heavily from others and coats 99% of film in CGI; making it as humane as its metal protagonists.
Carpet swept fakeries alike, it suits the film greatly and while it priorities visuals more than script it vastly boosts better all-round performances. If it bartered with emotions more then it might have been the offspring fans hoped for, but Terminator was never about sentiment was it?
The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003)
A journey that will always be remembered.
Having carried the burden of guiltily concealing a debt to Peter Jackson's widely known and acclaimed trilogy, only now do I realise I can truly call myself a film fan. Calling it outstanding, brilliant, perfect, would simply being echoing past recognition, which you already know of.
Up until the point of watching I was convinced the likes of other trilogies (such as the repetition dodging Toy Story and Star Wars) would always out do what I used see as a medieval fantasy filled with mythical creatures. Yet there's something incredibly humane about LOTR as a whole, the pointy ears and hairy feet may dismiss such an idea but when the soundtrack swells (as does your heart) you get, to quote the narrator of Fight Club: Lost in oblivion.
Before watching I didn't know my elf from my hobbit, now I know my Gollum from my Gandalf, my Gondor from my Mordor. Back in The Two Towers our hairy footed friends had grudgingly united with Gollum who continues to offer his schizophrenic 'assistance' of taking Sam and Frodo to an unknown entrance that will let them pass into Mordor unnoticed; while the rest of the divided fellowship meet up at Isengard in the aftermath of the Ents' Greenpeace revolt – which compared to the also CG rendered but vastly epic battles in Return of the King, was just a taster.
The effects themselves clearly cusp the 3D phenomenon, that was breached several years too late not that it doesn't spell in-your-face politely either. They still remain cinematically impressive, particularly when the heat of the battle flourishes fresh new soundtrack scores on such a vast scale. My only criticism is (sounding like a severe case of fanboyism here) that whole film goes so damn fast, even though it clocks in at the three hour mark; and that's coming from someone who had little prior knowledge beforehand.
Why? Because it's a journey. Never in my pitiful viewing history have I felt more transported to a different world so fluently, flawlessly, fixatedly. A world that could blister your eyes with tears and have your heart wrenching new-fangled rewards it didn't know existed. Not in the sense of being such a bum-numbing saga, but that it's a film that couldn't feel any less of a film, and it will be revisited again and again and again.
The Untouchables (1987)
The Unkemptables
An uncompromising style was lit by The Godfather and refuelled by Goodfellas during the 20th century; anything in the before or during stage of the two ceased to exist in masterpiece terms for very long. The idea to simply make a mob movie a cop drama revolving around Al Capone seems to be feigning the notion that true gangsters can still be told the other side of the fence effectively. They can't, or rather this can't half as well as it could have.
It's all smothered in the look though. Perfected haircuts, brandished liquor, breathed mists of cigar lit mercy, so in the respect of playing the era, it is the best character to be found – though Connery also gives it enough reason to watch (unsurprisingly). Costner, also playing a mostly straight laced, no nonsense police officer along with two other 'characters' who form the untouchables.
Admirable though it is to detract from the mob lifestyle, to show segments of it that seem to have no use except characterisation is cruel. Especially when the tension and style is carried with it, in sweet but short blips. Costner also can't seem to entirely stray from his Western prime either, that segment feels nothing more than a word in from himself or a hastily added diversion from the office scenery. Biased though this is coming from a gangster fan, fellow police drama Zodiac worked brilliantly and that was as ambiguous as you could hope for.
In short, if the last twenty minutes had been as good as what preceded it then this would have been a more than welcome change in perspective. Turns out it isn't.
This Is England (2006)
"That's a cracker that."
As Hollywood endlessly churns up more and more blockbusters by the reel, that don't need half as many 0's on the budget as they used to (Paranormal Activity, Monsters), the Brit-hits are becoming as abundant as those missing digits. With the exception of it being yet another crime with Ray Winstone who's no longer a Sexy Beast, or attached to someone called Mike Leigh – who is yet just the one man, or directed by the promising debuter Duncan Jones, there is only one man who also comes to mind.
Shane Meadow's titles of his last films don't conceive instantaneous must-see's - Dead Man's Shoes, Once Upon a Time in the Midlands, but they stink with intrigue. This is England is no different except it has been watched so not being judged on the basis on its grimy impulse. Set in 1983, year of clunky boots, Return of the Jedi (any excuse for Star Wars to be mentioned) and mass mob murder. Decade of less prominent political correctness, skin heads and racism. Shaun, a puppy eyed, foul mouth, who lost his dad in the Falkland war was a character based on the experiences of Shane Meadows himself.
And similar to the way the rise and fall of mafia life has been portrayed effortlessly, youth culture is remarkably parallel. Same degree of respect, nicknames, 'You watch my back and I won't stab yours' attitude and the change of a once light hearted atmosphere in a blink of a twitch. Shaun learns this as we learn it, often lashing out unexpectedly because of it, or giving into it through peer pressure, making the whole experience unsettling. Saying that, he's a child and savours the companionship whether it be good or bad or temperamental and as much as you hate to see him drown in what is so blatantly wrong, he enjoys it with every once of ignorance a child of his age should.
Meadow's films it like anything that calls itself a drama should. Though the phrase docudrama wouldn't be totally inaccurate either; the close-ups, with their heavy breathing, heavy silence and piercing stares into to nothingness or more effectively at you. Then there's the whole thematic vortex that American History X spun with an indispensable rotation, by balancing the racism and redemption near flawlessly. This is England, can't quite weigh down the latter as much as it could have, but the racism never feels unlike the characters or excessive to the point of nauseating; it's all precisely handled as emotive monologues and not just violence swiftly followed by a racist jibe.
It's as powerful as it is offensive, as poignant as it is vicious and as precise as it is brilliant. If this is England, Hollywood's not quite stole all the limelight just yet.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - Part 1 (2010)
Average additions be gone, things are starting to get magic at last.
No-one was forthcoming about OOTP and HBP. They have succeeded in the infamous Potter manoeuvre of neither being wildly brilliant or atrociously laughable, but always being huge box office phenomenon's that have now outdone the likes of Star Wars, so they must have been doing something right, right?
Well other than being the best franchise rights attained by Warner Bros. for being such a successful series, they always were inviting to people new to the experience, specifically those who hadn't read the books. The problem? The people who are fans of the book (including your dear critic) are always spotting the missing scenes, the awkward relationships - that aren't supposed to be awkward and the rare but recent addition of scenes that had as much logic and point behind them as singing into a turned on Hoover nozzle.
So being the best book, (arguably) the routinely depression encased within the restriction Hogwarts has lifted, as has the more customary check list. Big castle, problem, another problem, acting sad, kissing, wand walloping, morning, end. For once the relationships, like the plot, aren't constraint to the walls of Hogwarts, they are free at last.
Though Yates has been irksomely juggling the same premise for two films too long he makes up by, fi-na-le being faithful through the decision to cleanly cut the film in two. He also includes additional scenes (wait for it) that aren't unlike the characters motivations; HBP had the attack of the Burrow scene with no motivation from Death Eaters what so ever. In Deathly Hallows there are emotional additions that aren't hosted in a sulky and heavy atmosphere, such as when Harry is trying to console Hermione.
The film also amplifies its standard of being funny, something which the books only mildly covered as a quick disengagement from the 'fun'. And for the first time in history, when the newly instated Minister of Magic quotes: "These are dark times, there is no denying." the theme turned cliché of diluting the lighting for the gazillionth time so it's darker therefore 'more rugged and scary' - lives up to its sense of impending doom, without having the usual buzz of hopeful expectancy followed by obvious disappointment - like the lottery always does.
It's quiet easy to be bitter about the fact the best director, Alfonso Cuaron, never got the chance to make another instalment that could have established a new high point of the relatively indistinguishable mountain but saying that, Yates would never have got the chance to prove he can make one of the best additions to the series, that wasn't even close to being the money-grabbing, giant tease it could have been. If Part II can be this enjoyable to all audiences, then the Potter finale will rouse as much love as when he was first seen branded with his slogan scar and if not, it would at least be well-deserved to see Part I make the top 250.
A Clockwork Orange (1971)
I'm laughing and loving in the shame. Du-du-du-du...
There's been an alarming lack of undeserving classics reviewed these past few weeks. It's not as what could be perceived as spontaneous generosity, or keeping on par with what is deemed as appropriate by critics but rather the standard is, or was, so ignorant of sub-level greatness they all take the crown by the strength of their hands and seem incapable of letting go. Then next week comes and it's prised effortlessly from their clutch. But with A Clockwork Orange, now arguably Kubrick's greatest, in contrast to FMJ, 2001, The Shining and EWS, the film has lifted not just from last weeks, but from his own hands.
Though initially sceptical of Kubrick's 'gift' having started with his least tremendous, Eyes Wide Shut, which was no dastardly Friedberg and Seltzer combination, but to an outsider breaching the circle of meticulousness and cinematic genius, wasn't the most forthcoming or prestigious of his films. But a distasteful (back then) introduction has lead to what is now, pure admiration. A Clockwork Orange continues his stainless visage, incorporating the aid of classic music which has ironically never been more suited to something so contradictory yet complimentary.
As far as controversy goes (and these days it's, pretty, pretty far) Clockwork has tremendously surpassed all graphic expectations with flying screams and violence. But with Kubrick, the quantity never ranked below the quality; true its explicit characters, story and content can have you lunging for the nearest available sick bag, and the profanity seems scarcely mild compared to the fiery zest that sexual violence stings you with, but all the text book requirements are dutifully ticked along the way so there's no doubt of any excessive violence just for the sake of it in Kubrick's safe hands.
Within these requirements are: the captivating characters – Malcolm McDowell sadly overlooked in his youth for making the Tyler Durden-ish teenager, a heart heaving tragic case. Rich black comedy – when you delve deep into your own shame, such as the attack of the giant genital ornament. Contrapuntal sound – "I'm singing in the rain" Whack. Slap. Kick. "Just singing in the rain" Scissors. Forced clothes removal. Guess the rest. If that was unearthed to be a shocking statement, that's not a loose thread on Clockwork's jacket. Then the most important component: a blend of all these.
It's reassuring that Kubrick didn't take the fake route of not including the inhumanity when doing the screenplay. It makes the film so harrowing, so real, so perfect. If he took the adult friendly (it's too extreme to be tarred down to teenage friendly) route of showing us a wall to conceal the excessive (but necessary) blood spilling and clothe dispensing, how else would you expect to learn about the character? If it was all tucked away and hidden from audiences, would it have acquired its deserving cult status? Unlikely, or its cinematic recognition – e.g. the fast-mo 'Inny Outy' threesome is probably the best sex scene to ever be put on screen (only Kubrick could make you say that about a film).
When fellow Brit-film Peeping Tom caused a stir it actually ended the director's career despite being a misjudged masterpiece. It makes you shiver at the thought if that had happened to Kubrick, but at least it would have terminated his career with his biggest and best bang.
Metropolis (1927)
Metropobliss
When a film has as much temperament as Metropolis its like there's another individual watching it besides you. And as grand as this feeling may be, there's always a partially visible shadow beside you next time you want to watch a film that can't quite live up to its predecessor's solitary presence. It feels more like a grainy silhouette at best.
Saying it is a blueprint that caused scriptwriters lead to diminish from the multitude of brainwaves it spawned would be a bigger understatement than saying, well just that. It is, the blueprint that securely holstered the pistol that fired the concepts that worked tremendously on some (The Matrix, Star Wars) and not so well on others, undeserving of mention.
Freder, the silver-spoon born son of Metropolis overlord, Frederson, departs his aboveground haven of towering futuristic vision for the stark, dystopian world beneath the wealth that dwelled so ignorantly above, after gazing upon the heaven sent Maria. Haplessly he embarks to her fair grace only to discover she has branched a prophecy concerning earth's working and social division.
The restoration of lost footage, doesn't produce the ray of sunshine a 1080p gloss of the original footage does, but it faithfully hasn't been clumped carelessly in the special features section, or, goodness forbid, shunted on the back of the film like a uncomplimentary prologue. It chronologically has been placed, (panic over) which makes you appreciate how bad the condition the footage must have originally been in contrast to the gleaming eye bulging of characters like Rotwang.
A naturally high delivery of perfection is inevitable. The pulse that is responsible for the lively beat of the thousands it has created, not just directly but through inspiration from the inspired that aren't aware of the existence of Metropolis. If the stepping of the story feels all the too much of an acquired taste or just underwhelming from the lack of O.A.P friendly experience then by all means stick with Neo. But if reassured of its importance, watching Metropolis should feel a natural and much wanted obligation, to lend your eyes and ears gratefully to the people (mostly) responsible for what has become of such a known genre.
Alien (1979)
A remarkable film that is both unique and not simultaneously.
It's a given that with the collaboration of Ridley Scott, Sigourney Weaver and a rare blend of sci-fi and horror that brilliance was always going to be the outcome. Unless the scripting was deceivably dim-witted but good enough to hoodwink the likes of the previously mentioned talent, not to mention all the other cast members on board, there was always success on the horizon.
Too known to be cult, too expensive to be a b-movie bombshell but it didn't drown in the stream of mainstream madness either. It's a film that has strong devotees, but a widespread reputation and overall loyalty. The obvious answer to how they swindled the box office success would be down to sheer talent and a ridiculously brilliant summary of the film all within the tagline.
But it's more the premise for the whole scenario. A shadow friendly monster killing people off one by one, hardly the excitable reaction one would receive when summarising true originality such as Memento to the board. But because of an isolated setting, in an isolated vehicle, the inevitable becomes the inconceivable and that is (arguably) why this sci-fi horror can still manage to scare.
Who on earth (or more accurately floating around space) wouldn't be scared of being trapped in a self destructing ship with a highly tactful, two mouthed carnivore on the loose? Asking yourself questions like this make you appreciate it is Ripley doing the running and sweating and not you.
And you'd think with the fact it's the most horror fitting idea, to ever be thrown around, it wouldn't make you any less concerned for her well being just because its become a contemporary formulae that been fiddled with all to often. As far as scaring goes, it surpasses the interesting but un-scary original Texas Chainsaw Massacre with flying colours. As for science fiction? Its not 2001: A Space Odyssey but lets face what is? A remarkable film that is both unique and not simultaneously.
Let Me In (2010)
A remake that really is as good as the original (if not slightly better).
Its reassuring to say the least that while highly renown, yet highly divided vampire films (Twilike or a Twifright) can leave an irritable stain on media, the lesser known films can have more humanity, pungency and raw emotion that the tips of the latter could scarcely touch. The cult clamped Swedish horror: Let The Right One In was sadly still in the airbrushed shadow cast from it fellow vampire films, despite being a remarkable exception that hadn't drowned in its own neck pierced blood.
So while the remake may have sparked frustrating and insensitive glares from the lovers of the original, Matt Reeves has faithfully and delicately delivered a worthy successor that too many remakes have made of a bad name of doing. This bend in the rule is like Cloverfield's deliberate use of shaky, amateur camera, which was either tirelessly memorable or sickly forgettable. Let Me In is just the same. A point-blank refusal to even look at the trailer ticks the forgettable box, while enjoying, or even admitting it's as good as the original ticks the other. In several small but noticeable footsteps it actually goes as far as slightly improving on the Swedish version, but we'll let that point settle in before it's resurfaced and explained.
For Kodi Smit-McPhee's character Owen, things are as tough and lonely as they were earlier in the year when he was in The Road, and as for Chloe Moretz, she Kick's Ass in a very different way than when she was Hit Girl. Bullied Owen and Abbey first meet when she moves in next door, and their relationship begins to form one of great envy. Both being only twelve, the awkward overused issue of sex isn't on the playing court; their friendship is consoling each other with company of the other and finding comfort and understanding. A children's story with adult themes if you like.
Moretz and Smit-McPhee handle the awkward, defensive first meet with maturity and talent, more so than with the actors who played Oskcar and Eli. This makes their relationship throughout have more depth and meaning, so when it's good you smile and when it's bad you worry. This is something you rarely feel in a remake because the characters would have their paths so clearly outlined through a parallel plot of the predecessor, there's a lack of effort to care when you know what will happen. Not with Let Me In. The special effects are also an improvement on the original. The fits of hunger Eli had are nothing compared to the bone snapping aerobic attacks of Abbey, not to mention the welcoming departure of the original's hissing cats that boasted bad B-movie effects rather than successful cult Swedish horror.
But if anyone, deserves the most limelight for such a fantastic remake Reeves should be bestowed that honour. His scripting and artful direction doesn't feel the need to go full Hollywood (which was also his method for Cloverfield) and glamorise every little blip of action - for example the shot inside the car crashing. It's this faithfulness not to stray too far from the original's rigorous control but take risks that don't push the boundaries, which make this masterpiece as being every bit impressive it's original.
Back to the Future (1985)
25 years on and it could still teach so many films so many lessons.
Back in the decade of 'In space no-one can hear you scream', Lightsaber swashbuckling Jedi and of course Arnold Schwarzenegger cradling that not so delicate pump-action, bad-ass necessity; it seemed only appropriate to throw time travel in the mix of a genre that was starting to expand more and more with some good ol' computer technology, which back then, didn't have to become the primary tool in a directors box of apparatus.
So when Back to the Future spurted the fiery paths of tire grinding, followed by a once handsome DeLorean turned four wheeled ice block, the questioned was: what made it so much different, better, cooler? Simply, whereas other sci-fi's that demonstrated so effortlessly the compulsive need to slap audiences jaw drop levels further down to the ground, explosion by explosion, Back to the Future arguably took a more humour through simplicity approach.
Example, body language. Nothing that will be spoilt of course, but the deliberate motions of characters (especially in the diner) can tell an audience all they'd need to know about a character, before their identity was fully revealed through this interaction. Funny, yes. But not till it scratches the surface more deeply do things start to get more than standard slapstick, especially where family is concerned.
That doesn't mean the film lacked, an albeit Michael Bay need for some wanted explosions and top techno talk to remind us throughout it was a sci-fi ("1.21 gigawatts? 1.21 gigawatts? Great Scott!"), and hadn't took the 'Humour of his mum fancying him' path too far and sloppily. If anything, science is more of a focus than anything else.
Not for the obvious fact it's a science fiction (Bravo) but more that Marty is as confused with 'Docs' long winded trails of scientific calculations with himself as we are. And ironically, he understands the ins and outs so easily his madness seems ordinary. It's all Marty's dumbfound confusion and the audiences comfort of knowing 'We never need to know what on earth a Flux Capacitor is so let's go along with it'. This all makes the baffling intellect more of a reassurance everything will work, rather than a panicky and frantic turn of heads to understand every little detail as to not get lost in its 'family friendly' plot. And that's what it's all about. It never needs to go into drawn out explanations that only scientific universities would host, it's a thrill ride, Marty's ride, our ride; with two more stops yet to go.
Taxi Driver (1976)
As dark and depressing as Se7en, But also as brilliant.
Travis (De Niro) is always something of a question mark from when we first meet him. He's never predictable in motivation, conversation or deliberation. An intriguing and brilliant character, who'll make you feel like you have the wood to be lit but he'd rather sit there and watch you shiver.
Ironically though this character makes you feel this way through his stony silences - often filled with a narration of thoughts; he detests the filth and scum and deterioration of the city he serves faithfully. An almost pre-Rorschach figure in the smoky mist, or the modern 'goodie' who fights fire with fire in a city full of conflicting flames.
Despite meeting Travis in this uncharismatic surrounding it's characters such as Cybill (Foster) who he meets while gazing in his flamboyantly obvious vehicle, that indicate the real people who need saving, not just the city itself. Controversial though her character (or more precisely her age) may be for such an unheard of role (again for the age) it doesn't take a historian to realise with bad times, comes bad professions and the wrong types of people in those professions.
The blunt but accurate deterioration of a society, so lost in its bad reputation doesn't make this Scorsese's best. Sadly. Goodfellas proved much more, with much more style that wasn't all thanks to the direction and the lead actor. Second best? Absolutely.
Road to Perdition (2002)
If Public Enemies had drama...
Like a lot of films these days, (or so it seems to be) Road to Perdition is based upon a graphic novel of the same name and story. That story follows Michael Sullivan's journey during the Great Depression of protecting his son after being betrayed by the people he had trusted, during his time of being a hit man.
Michael wears the reticent treatment for his family and fellows, until he finally lets the demeanour slip somewhat when he tries to connect to his son. A beautiful but short sequence which shows some of the humanity of a person who has lost so much, by simply asking his son what his favourite lesson is.
If the film could have done this longer or even more frequently it could have gotten Hanks an Oscar nominations for his inexperienced yet sympathetically drawn attempts, to try make his relationship with his son partially normal. Partially normal because of his appetite for killing his way up the food chain till he gets to the man responsible, all out of revenge; not to mention his added complication of Jude Law constantly intercepting his footsteps.
Its not that's its hard to understand the inconceivable drive a person must have when they have sustained the losses of family members but to have some go as far as to compare it to The Godfather when the films vaguely match the same par is slightly unrealistic.
It scarcely touches American Beauty's impressive shadow, never mind what is considered the greatest gangster film ever made. All that put on the self for a moment though, it remains a firmly impressive offspring from Mendes even if his debut was, and will always be, his best, not that him and Hanks (not to mention the other superb cast members) lack a struggle to maintain an air of freshness in a genre so ridden with clichés.