Fuck. That. Film.
No I haven't seen it but, whatever.
Fuck. That. Film.
Friday, 28 May 2010
Four Lions Review
“Fuck mini baby bells” might just be my favourite line in a film so far this year. It comes from dim witted, would be terrorist Waj, in response to an anti-Western rant from his brother Omar justifying their particular Jihad. It’s one of many brilliant lines from writer/director Chris Morris in this somewhat scattershot but funny and, at times, moving tale of the eponymous four lions' attempt to martyr themselves by blowing up the London marathon.
That’s basically it for story. Omar and Waj travel to Pakistan for training. Meanwhile convert Barry recruits rapper Hassan to the cause and nervous Fessel worries over making the bombs and starring in the obligatory homemade video with a box over his head to preserve his identity. On the downside, Four Lions feels like it belongs more on TV than in a cinema. Scenes don’t feel like they build upon each other to form narrative as much as they come and go as funny, engaging, stand alone segments. In fact they feel less like scenes and more like individual sketches, a product perhaps of Morris’ background and that of his writing partners Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain, most famous for writing Peep Show. At a certain point this started to get to me and I found my interest waning. This also means that the finale could come at any time because there isn’t much of a sense of narrative build. We could get our protagonists to London now, half an hour ago or not for another hour; let’s just see what happens. On top of that, the gags come thick and fast and I personally found that there were as many that missed the mark as hit. In particular, I simply didn’t believe the character of Waj. Moments like him mistaking chickens for rabbits and asking who was on the phone after Omar makes the telephone gesture with his hands and talks into it while making a speech are big, obvious gags, and indeed had many people in the audience I saw it with laughing hysterically. This is a character type that is very recognisable from television sitcoms. Going back to Malary in Family Ties all the way through to Joey in Friends via Dougal in Father Ted, many sitcoms use slow, stupid, dim-witted characters to provide much of the humour with their ineptitude. The problem for me is that this is a film, not a sitcom, and, on the big screen, I found the character unbelievable and the humour obviously scripted rather than coming naturally from the situations and characters. Because all of the humour that works does come from the characters and situations, it just makes this all the more apparent. Also, much of the mock arguing and pretend rambling suffered from this same problem; it felt staged and scripted and I didn’t quite believe it. I would have been interested to see what Morris as writer would have done with a more experienced film director guiding the material. Also, given Morris’ background, particularly thinking about Brass Eye, I was actually expecting the film to go closer to the bone. Having made the decision to tackle this material, the film ends up playing it surprisingly safe.
But this is to get the negatives out of the way so as to concentrate on the positives. Four Lions is generally well written and very well acted, particularly by its lead Riz Ahmed as the only marginally less hapless Omar leading the quartet towards their destiny. Omar is radicalised yet also Westernised, his slightly more free form Islam contrasting with the rigidity of that of his brother Ahmed who believes in Islam at its most Old Testament (to mix my religions) but is utterly opposed to the violence his brother espouses. This makes for a really interesting juxtaposition between a character steeped in his religion, with all the negatives (from our perspective) that goes along with this, particularly in the treatment of women, but who is ultimately peaceful and a character who has probably never read the Qur’an all the way through and is, on the surface, more “acceptable” (again, from a Western perspective) but has latched onto a popularised, corrupted misinterpretation of the faith and is capable of killing innocent people as a result. It’s also interesting how all the references of the would be Jihadists are Western, to the point where a character at the Pakistani training camp refers to Waj and Omar as being like Mr Bean, Rambo and James Bond. Hassan reveres Tupac but is later outed as a Maroon 5 fan. This goes alongside numerous anti western rants and tirades. It’s a subtle and very deliberate contradiction in the writing of the characters that reveals the absurdity of their ill informed opinions and actions. The film is laugh out loud funny and its humour ranges from the witty to the slapstick, the death of one character at the hands of the guys’ own bombs branded as martyrdom because he also happened to kill a sheep for example. The police and other security forces emerge as every bit as useless as the cell they are chasing and this results in one of the film’s funniest moments when two snipers, under orders to take out the terrorists dressed up as fun runners, can’t distinguish between a Wookie and the Honey Monster and engage in an extended argument about the differences between the two over their radios.
The film also has a couple of very striking and moving scenes, Omar saying goodbye to his wife before setting off to blow himself up, and explaining the notion of suicide bombing to his young son through use of The Lion King are the two standouts. The latter reminded me of that horrible yet brilliant and compelling scene in Happiness when paedophile Dylan Baker explains his proclivities to his son who is upset that his Dad doesn’t want him. Four Lions doesn’t quite push its scene that far but it’s cut from the same cloth and resonates amidst the mayhem of much of the rest of the film. That mayhem, one would hope, won’t distract audiences from the very serious nature of the material and the importance of discussing the topic. Four Lions is satirical, pointed, intelligent and funny. Everything you’d expect from the man who made Phil Collins talk about “nonce sense.”
And yes this review is weeks late, I know. What can I say? I've been busy enjoying the sunshine!
7/10
That’s basically it for story. Omar and Waj travel to Pakistan for training. Meanwhile convert Barry recruits rapper Hassan to the cause and nervous Fessel worries over making the bombs and starring in the obligatory homemade video with a box over his head to preserve his identity. On the downside, Four Lions feels like it belongs more on TV than in a cinema. Scenes don’t feel like they build upon each other to form narrative as much as they come and go as funny, engaging, stand alone segments. In fact they feel less like scenes and more like individual sketches, a product perhaps of Morris’ background and that of his writing partners Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain, most famous for writing Peep Show. At a certain point this started to get to me and I found my interest waning. This also means that the finale could come at any time because there isn’t much of a sense of narrative build. We could get our protagonists to London now, half an hour ago or not for another hour; let’s just see what happens. On top of that, the gags come thick and fast and I personally found that there were as many that missed the mark as hit. In particular, I simply didn’t believe the character of Waj. Moments like him mistaking chickens for rabbits and asking who was on the phone after Omar makes the telephone gesture with his hands and talks into it while making a speech are big, obvious gags, and indeed had many people in the audience I saw it with laughing hysterically. This is a character type that is very recognisable from television sitcoms. Going back to Malary in Family Ties all the way through to Joey in Friends via Dougal in Father Ted, many sitcoms use slow, stupid, dim-witted characters to provide much of the humour with their ineptitude. The problem for me is that this is a film, not a sitcom, and, on the big screen, I found the character unbelievable and the humour obviously scripted rather than coming naturally from the situations and characters. Because all of the humour that works does come from the characters and situations, it just makes this all the more apparent. Also, much of the mock arguing and pretend rambling suffered from this same problem; it felt staged and scripted and I didn’t quite believe it. I would have been interested to see what Morris as writer would have done with a more experienced film director guiding the material. Also, given Morris’ background, particularly thinking about Brass Eye, I was actually expecting the film to go closer to the bone. Having made the decision to tackle this material, the film ends up playing it surprisingly safe.
But this is to get the negatives out of the way so as to concentrate on the positives. Four Lions is generally well written and very well acted, particularly by its lead Riz Ahmed as the only marginally less hapless Omar leading the quartet towards their destiny. Omar is radicalised yet also Westernised, his slightly more free form Islam contrasting with the rigidity of that of his brother Ahmed who believes in Islam at its most Old Testament (to mix my religions) but is utterly opposed to the violence his brother espouses. This makes for a really interesting juxtaposition between a character steeped in his religion, with all the negatives (from our perspective) that goes along with this, particularly in the treatment of women, but who is ultimately peaceful and a character who has probably never read the Qur’an all the way through and is, on the surface, more “acceptable” (again, from a Western perspective) but has latched onto a popularised, corrupted misinterpretation of the faith and is capable of killing innocent people as a result. It’s also interesting how all the references of the would be Jihadists are Western, to the point where a character at the Pakistani training camp refers to Waj and Omar as being like Mr Bean, Rambo and James Bond. Hassan reveres Tupac but is later outed as a Maroon 5 fan. This goes alongside numerous anti western rants and tirades. It’s a subtle and very deliberate contradiction in the writing of the characters that reveals the absurdity of their ill informed opinions and actions. The film is laugh out loud funny and its humour ranges from the witty to the slapstick, the death of one character at the hands of the guys’ own bombs branded as martyrdom because he also happened to kill a sheep for example. The police and other security forces emerge as every bit as useless as the cell they are chasing and this results in one of the film’s funniest moments when two snipers, under orders to take out the terrorists dressed up as fun runners, can’t distinguish between a Wookie and the Honey Monster and engage in an extended argument about the differences between the two over their radios.
The film also has a couple of very striking and moving scenes, Omar saying goodbye to his wife before setting off to blow himself up, and explaining the notion of suicide bombing to his young son through use of The Lion King are the two standouts. The latter reminded me of that horrible yet brilliant and compelling scene in Happiness when paedophile Dylan Baker explains his proclivities to his son who is upset that his Dad doesn’t want him. Four Lions doesn’t quite push its scene that far but it’s cut from the same cloth and resonates amidst the mayhem of much of the rest of the film. That mayhem, one would hope, won’t distract audiences from the very serious nature of the material and the importance of discussing the topic. Four Lions is satirical, pointed, intelligent and funny. Everything you’d expect from the man who made Phil Collins talk about “nonce sense.”
And yes this review is weeks late, I know. What can I say? I've been busy enjoying the sunshine!
7/10
Thursday, 27 May 2010
Heartless Review
Sometimes I hate London. £12.95 to sit in what amounts to an oversized living room at 5.00pm on a Tuesday in Leicester Square to watch Heartless. I have a Cineworld Unlimited Pass but of course Cineworld weren’t showing it so I had to stump up the cash. Also, as much as I love Mark Kermode, I think I need to get savvier to the films he likes. Heartless was his film of the week last week. Admittedly it was a pretty shabby week for films but even still. He wasn’t alone though. There were a few middling to decent reviews for this British horror film from writer/director Philip Ridley, his first film in 13 years. The link to this blog on the spankingly, awesomely refurbished Eggmag website warns readers that “I’m a hard man to please.” But honestly, I don’t LIKE being negative, I don’t ENJOY coming down on films, particularly when I’ve PAID £12.95 to sit in an oversized living room to watch them.
Enough preamble. With emphasis on the amble.
Jim Sturgess plays Jamie Morgan, a young man with a heart-shaped birthmark across his face. Jim wears his hood up constantly to shield himself from the stares and taunts he regularly receives. Jamie lives in the East End where gangs of hoodies prowl the streets. Except that in this film, hoodies may not be the young kids we’ve all come to know, but actual demons lurking in the shadows. There is a lot of are they/aren’t they demons, a family tragedy, a pact with the Devil, lots of heart ripping, a truly hilarious use of cling film and a last act that, suggests it’s offering a few conclusions and is letting you make up your own mind but, for me, was emphasising one particular interpretation in the pursuit of a twist that amounts to nothing more than a pretty lame cliché.
Which is a shame because there are points of interest in Heartless. The idea of the hooded gangs as demons is a nice one. This works best when we catch glimpses of hoods disappearing behind walls or buildings but even when we first see an actual demon beneath the hood (not actually the spoiler it appears to be, don’t worry) it’s a surprisingly convincing effect. London’s East End is shot in a suitably grimy, graffiti covered way which makes for some atmospheric shots and moments and Jim Sturgess delivers a good performance, even if his character is hampered by being somewhat one note. Apart from Sturgess, the acting is very hit and miss however with Jamie’s wayward nephew in particular managing to ruin the scenes he is in. Also watch out for Noel Clarke making a great bid for the 2010 Most Pointless Character award.
There are a couple of insurmountable problems. The first is that what we basically have here is a new take on the old Faustian story which is fine. But it takes an absolute age for the Devil, or Papa B as he is known here (I wonder if I could get people to call me Papa G?) to turn up. Papa B’s entrance and the deal he strikes with Jamie is basically the crux of the film but we spend way too long watching and following the demons first which, though a nice idea as I say, in the end becomes somewhat redundant to the narrative. It’s no great spoiler to reveal that what Jamie wants is to lose his birthmark. The way this is dealt with though is very unconvincing and kind of over the top. The birthmark has left Jamie something of a recluse, single, living with his Mum etc etc etc. The birthmark is definitely evident and, I guess you could say disfiguring, and I’m certainly not naïve enough to think that people wouldn’t have some reaction, but people stare and recoil and react as if his head had been dipped in acid and was about to fall off completely. This happens repeatedly and to the point of being kind of laughable. It would have been much more interesting if, for example, people had not reacted at all and Jamie’s self consciousness and confidence issues had still been there. This would have made it much more of a character issue, an internal issue, and made his pact with the Devil more tragic as a result. As it was, I found it difficult to believe. The aftermath of the deal, in which things go briefly right for Jamie, is thoroughly unconvincing and by the time we get to the cling film (rocketing its way into the top 5 favourite scenes of the year list) the heart ripping and the cop out ending, the film and its near two hour running time have long outstayed their welcome.
As with Alice Creed, I’m trying to give British horror and thriller a go but it’s just not happening. At least it’s not for me. A couple of nice scenes, a few moody shots and one or two good ideas do not make a film. Heartless was in need of a restructure at the script stage to focus its story and intentions but never received it. An opportunity wasted.
4.5/10
Enough preamble. With emphasis on the amble.
Jim Sturgess plays Jamie Morgan, a young man with a heart-shaped birthmark across his face. Jim wears his hood up constantly to shield himself from the stares and taunts he regularly receives. Jamie lives in the East End where gangs of hoodies prowl the streets. Except that in this film, hoodies may not be the young kids we’ve all come to know, but actual demons lurking in the shadows. There is a lot of are they/aren’t they demons, a family tragedy, a pact with the Devil, lots of heart ripping, a truly hilarious use of cling film and a last act that, suggests it’s offering a few conclusions and is letting you make up your own mind but, for me, was emphasising one particular interpretation in the pursuit of a twist that amounts to nothing more than a pretty lame cliché.
Which is a shame because there are points of interest in Heartless. The idea of the hooded gangs as demons is a nice one. This works best when we catch glimpses of hoods disappearing behind walls or buildings but even when we first see an actual demon beneath the hood (not actually the spoiler it appears to be, don’t worry) it’s a surprisingly convincing effect. London’s East End is shot in a suitably grimy, graffiti covered way which makes for some atmospheric shots and moments and Jim Sturgess delivers a good performance, even if his character is hampered by being somewhat one note. Apart from Sturgess, the acting is very hit and miss however with Jamie’s wayward nephew in particular managing to ruin the scenes he is in. Also watch out for Noel Clarke making a great bid for the 2010 Most Pointless Character award.
There are a couple of insurmountable problems. The first is that what we basically have here is a new take on the old Faustian story which is fine. But it takes an absolute age for the Devil, or Papa B as he is known here (I wonder if I could get people to call me Papa G?) to turn up. Papa B’s entrance and the deal he strikes with Jamie is basically the crux of the film but we spend way too long watching and following the demons first which, though a nice idea as I say, in the end becomes somewhat redundant to the narrative. It’s no great spoiler to reveal that what Jamie wants is to lose his birthmark. The way this is dealt with though is very unconvincing and kind of over the top. The birthmark has left Jamie something of a recluse, single, living with his Mum etc etc etc. The birthmark is definitely evident and, I guess you could say disfiguring, and I’m certainly not naïve enough to think that people wouldn’t have some reaction, but people stare and recoil and react as if his head had been dipped in acid and was about to fall off completely. This happens repeatedly and to the point of being kind of laughable. It would have been much more interesting if, for example, people had not reacted at all and Jamie’s self consciousness and confidence issues had still been there. This would have made it much more of a character issue, an internal issue, and made his pact with the Devil more tragic as a result. As it was, I found it difficult to believe. The aftermath of the deal, in which things go briefly right for Jamie, is thoroughly unconvincing and by the time we get to the cling film (rocketing its way into the top 5 favourite scenes of the year list) the heart ripping and the cop out ending, the film and its near two hour running time have long outstayed their welcome.
As with Alice Creed, I’m trying to give British horror and thriller a go but it’s just not happening. At least it’s not for me. A couple of nice scenes, a few moody shots and one or two good ideas do not make a film. Heartless was in need of a restructure at the script stage to focus its story and intentions but never received it. An opportunity wasted.
4.5/10
Bad Lieutenant: Port Of Call New Orleans Review
Bad Lieutenant: Port Of Call New Orleans, to give it its full title, arrives on a wave of glowing reviews and praise for Nicolas Cage’s “return to form” performance. In the end the film is one great big joke, which is fine because Cage and director Werner Herzog are clearly in on it. However I’m not sure it’s a return to form performance. Cage has been doing “weird” and “over the top” and “what-the-fuck crazy” for years. The only difference with Bad Lieutenant is that finally it’s a role that suits his weird, over the top and what-the-fuck crazy. Rather than shoehorning that into, say, The Wicker Man which (despite being a terrible film in many ways) badly suffers from a miscast Cage, even if one could argue that Cage’s tics and affectations provide most of the film’s highlights, with Bad Lieutenant, drug addled, boozed up, corrupt beyond belief cop Terrence McDonagh actually benefits from a dialled up to 11 Nicolas Cage.
Is there much point in discussing the story? I’m not really sure there is. McDonagh injures his back, gets addicted to painkillers, gets addicted to coke, gets addicted to heroin, gets a blowjob from the girlfriend of a guy whose drugs he took on the pretext of being a cop but actually, he just wanted the drugs, (naturally the young man is forced to watch said blowjob) and hallucinates seeing many, many iguanas and the break dancing sole of a dead drug dealer (no joke). Makes sense right?
In case it isn’t clear, this version of Bad Lieutenant bears precisely zero relation to Abel Ferrara’s original. Gone are the catholic guilt, Harvey Keitel's swinging willy and the always popular nun-rape. In its place are a series of increasingly over the top and bizarre scenes that don’t really form a narrative as much as they do a series of increasingly over the top and bizarre scenes. The last 20 minutes in particular is so ridiculous that I’m convinced the film has switched perspectives from objective narrator to untrustworthy protagonist. If the last 20 minutes of the film aren’t a drug induced hallucination then what you actually have is Herzog and Cage standing behind the camera laughing hysterically at the giant piss take they have unleashed. And maybe it is that simple. Maybe that’s all they’ve done. Which is fine I guess. It’s certainly not the first time a director has given the two fingers to a genre and the studio financing the film. “You kill bugs GOOD Johnny!” I’m just not sure that’s enough. And, in a weird way, I was actually expecting the film, its tone and central performance, to be bigger. Given how over the top Cage always is, I’m not sure exactly how much more so he is here. This is basically a “see it once and get everything from it” film. There are hilarious moments to be sure, Cage hiding behind a door, shaving with an electric razor, the aforementioned sexual indiscretion and a great scene where he tortures a pensioner by cutting off the air supply from her oxygen tank. Maybe I’m greedy, but I still wanted more.
This is such a weird film. I’m not sure what else there is to say about it really…
5/10
By the way, for anyone who hasn’t seen the highlights of Neil LaBute's Wicker Man remake…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6i2WRreARo
Is there much point in discussing the story? I’m not really sure there is. McDonagh injures his back, gets addicted to painkillers, gets addicted to coke, gets addicted to heroin, gets a blowjob from the girlfriend of a guy whose drugs he took on the pretext of being a cop but actually, he just wanted the drugs, (naturally the young man is forced to watch said blowjob) and hallucinates seeing many, many iguanas and the break dancing sole of a dead drug dealer (no joke). Makes sense right?
In case it isn’t clear, this version of Bad Lieutenant bears precisely zero relation to Abel Ferrara’s original. Gone are the catholic guilt, Harvey Keitel's swinging willy and the always popular nun-rape. In its place are a series of increasingly over the top and bizarre scenes that don’t really form a narrative as much as they do a series of increasingly over the top and bizarre scenes. The last 20 minutes in particular is so ridiculous that I’m convinced the film has switched perspectives from objective narrator to untrustworthy protagonist. If the last 20 minutes of the film aren’t a drug induced hallucination then what you actually have is Herzog and Cage standing behind the camera laughing hysterically at the giant piss take they have unleashed. And maybe it is that simple. Maybe that’s all they’ve done. Which is fine I guess. It’s certainly not the first time a director has given the two fingers to a genre and the studio financing the film. “You kill bugs GOOD Johnny!” I’m just not sure that’s enough. And, in a weird way, I was actually expecting the film, its tone and central performance, to be bigger. Given how over the top Cage always is, I’m not sure exactly how much more so he is here. This is basically a “see it once and get everything from it” film. There are hilarious moments to be sure, Cage hiding behind a door, shaving with an electric razor, the aforementioned sexual indiscretion and a great scene where he tortures a pensioner by cutting off the air supply from her oxygen tank. Maybe I’m greedy, but I still wanted more.
This is such a weird film. I’m not sure what else there is to say about it really…
5/10
By the way, for anyone who hasn’t seen the highlights of Neil LaBute's Wicker Man remake…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6i2WRreARo
Friday, 21 May 2010
American: The Bill Hicks Story Review
Since his untimely death at the age of 32, Bill Hicks has become something of the “comedian’s comedian”, an inspiration to anyone attempting that most difficult of art forms and a staple at college parties the world over. He regularly appears very near the top of those “Top 100” list programmes that have become so popular in recent years and is now legendary for his pro-smoking, anti-American ranting. With American: The Bill Hicks Story, British film makers Matt Harlock and Paul Thomas have attempted to get to the heart of what drove Hicks, his background, family life, everything that shaped the man and the comedian and for the most part they have succeeded.
There’s a wonderful moment near the end of the film, recalled by Hicks’ Mother, when Hicks was dying and they were spending a lot of time together. Hicks was telling her things he felt she should hear before he died and, responding with understanding and compassion, Hicks was prompted to tell her that “she is way more liberal than he realised she was.” Hicks, with his two siblings, was brought up a Southern Baptist and his early motivation for success was simply to get away. His best friend Dwight Slade recounts their early attempts at comedy. When Slade moved to Oregon, Hicks continued performing on his own and was a bona fide stand-up in his early teens. The film charts his move to L.A., his early television performances and documents his battle with alcoholism that would at first help create the Bill Hicks we all know today, but not before it almost destroyed him.
Some people are born to do what they do and there can be little doubt that Bill Hicks was born to perform comedy. Fiercely intelligent, his early comedy was filled with observations of his home and family life and while he learned his craft with this material and achieved a measure of success, he knew he was going to have to push things if he wanted the kind of success his comic inspirations like Richard Pryor had. Drugs and alcohol helped release his anger and played a large part in creating the enraged and hostile persona that became his trademark. Alcohol got the better of him however and he went through an extended period where his performances became little more than a drunk falling around on stage. Once he got sober, he was able to take what worked about that style and turn it into something hilariously didactic and vitriolic which is what made it even more cruel that just as he was peaking as a performer and gaining international recognition, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer from which he wouldn’t recover.
Directors Harlock and Thomas have an abundance of performance footage from which to choose the highlights but they make the smart choice not to overload the film with it, instead choosing snippets that express whatever particular point they are trying to make at any given time. Hicks emerged in the 80s as video was becoming popular and the directors have much grainy footage of his early shows. This gives a great sense of journey as we watch him learn his craft and develop into a consummate and confident comedian. Less abundant is footage to play over the talking heads interviews but Harlock and Thomas use animated photographs to tell the story and fill in the blanks. It’s a great device that works very well to keep the audience visually interested during the film’s slightly over long running time. They are also well served by Hicks’ friends, family and peers who provide great insight and first hand accounts of the man’s life. Conspicuous by their absence are any of Bill Hicks’ girlfriends or significant relationships but, on Simon Mayo last week, the directors explained how they were simply unable to find any of Hicks’ ex girlfriends willing to talk to them. It’s an omission that is noticeable but doesn’t destroy the film.
The latter part of the documentary is genuinely moving. His old friend Dwight makes the interesting point that a comedian’s voice should be an extension of their real selves rather than being totally fabricated. You get the sense that, for all his on stage blustering and, at times, outright abuse of his audience, this was a man who cared deeply about the things he was saying. It wasn’t front, it was genuinely felt and, most importantly, thought through and considered. The siege at Waco profoundly affected Hicks and there is amazing footage of a subsequent performance that, at least in the excerpt shown, contains little comedy. He was dying long before he told most of the people that knew him about his cancer and, indeed, continued performing until quite near his death. Hicks returned home to be with his family and you really feel the profound sense of loss his family experienced at his passing. Famously, his last ever television performance on the David Letterman show, was cut due to concern about the nature of the material. It’s in part this lack of mainstream acceptance and success that has helped ensure Hicks’ status as a “real” comedian amongst devotees. It’s interesting to speculate how the events of recent years might have raised his mainstream acceptance as Americans grew weary of George Bush and became less afraid to say so. Equally he would have been over a decade older and it’s possible the passing of time would have blunted the edge that made him the comedian he was. We’ll simply never know. In the end, like all artists who die young and at their peak, Bill Hicks is now immortalised as one of the greatest at what he did
With a subject this strong it’s difficult to go wrong but American: The Bill Hicks Story is imaginative, well crafted and predictably very funny. Avoid Prince Of Persia (which I won't be seeing or therefore reviewing by the way) and Robin Hood (which I'll get to at some point). Its release is limited but it’s well worth seeking out.
7.5/10
There’s a wonderful moment near the end of the film, recalled by Hicks’ Mother, when Hicks was dying and they were spending a lot of time together. Hicks was telling her things he felt she should hear before he died and, responding with understanding and compassion, Hicks was prompted to tell her that “she is way more liberal than he realised she was.” Hicks, with his two siblings, was brought up a Southern Baptist and his early motivation for success was simply to get away. His best friend Dwight Slade recounts their early attempts at comedy. When Slade moved to Oregon, Hicks continued performing on his own and was a bona fide stand-up in his early teens. The film charts his move to L.A., his early television performances and documents his battle with alcoholism that would at first help create the Bill Hicks we all know today, but not before it almost destroyed him.
Some people are born to do what they do and there can be little doubt that Bill Hicks was born to perform comedy. Fiercely intelligent, his early comedy was filled with observations of his home and family life and while he learned his craft with this material and achieved a measure of success, he knew he was going to have to push things if he wanted the kind of success his comic inspirations like Richard Pryor had. Drugs and alcohol helped release his anger and played a large part in creating the enraged and hostile persona that became his trademark. Alcohol got the better of him however and he went through an extended period where his performances became little more than a drunk falling around on stage. Once he got sober, he was able to take what worked about that style and turn it into something hilariously didactic and vitriolic which is what made it even more cruel that just as he was peaking as a performer and gaining international recognition, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer from which he wouldn’t recover.
Directors Harlock and Thomas have an abundance of performance footage from which to choose the highlights but they make the smart choice not to overload the film with it, instead choosing snippets that express whatever particular point they are trying to make at any given time. Hicks emerged in the 80s as video was becoming popular and the directors have much grainy footage of his early shows. This gives a great sense of journey as we watch him learn his craft and develop into a consummate and confident comedian. Less abundant is footage to play over the talking heads interviews but Harlock and Thomas use animated photographs to tell the story and fill in the blanks. It’s a great device that works very well to keep the audience visually interested during the film’s slightly over long running time. They are also well served by Hicks’ friends, family and peers who provide great insight and first hand accounts of the man’s life. Conspicuous by their absence are any of Bill Hicks’ girlfriends or significant relationships but, on Simon Mayo last week, the directors explained how they were simply unable to find any of Hicks’ ex girlfriends willing to talk to them. It’s an omission that is noticeable but doesn’t destroy the film.
The latter part of the documentary is genuinely moving. His old friend Dwight makes the interesting point that a comedian’s voice should be an extension of their real selves rather than being totally fabricated. You get the sense that, for all his on stage blustering and, at times, outright abuse of his audience, this was a man who cared deeply about the things he was saying. It wasn’t front, it was genuinely felt and, most importantly, thought through and considered. The siege at Waco profoundly affected Hicks and there is amazing footage of a subsequent performance that, at least in the excerpt shown, contains little comedy. He was dying long before he told most of the people that knew him about his cancer and, indeed, continued performing until quite near his death. Hicks returned home to be with his family and you really feel the profound sense of loss his family experienced at his passing. Famously, his last ever television performance on the David Letterman show, was cut due to concern about the nature of the material. It’s in part this lack of mainstream acceptance and success that has helped ensure Hicks’ status as a “real” comedian amongst devotees. It’s interesting to speculate how the events of recent years might have raised his mainstream acceptance as Americans grew weary of George Bush and became less afraid to say so. Equally he would have been over a decade older and it’s possible the passing of time would have blunted the edge that made him the comedian he was. We’ll simply never know. In the end, like all artists who die young and at their peak, Bill Hicks is now immortalised as one of the greatest at what he did
With a subject this strong it’s difficult to go wrong but American: The Bill Hicks Story is imaginative, well crafted and predictably very funny. Avoid Prince Of Persia (which I won't be seeing or therefore reviewing by the way) and Robin Hood (which I'll get to at some point). Its release is limited but it’s well worth seeking out.
7.5/10
Thursday, 6 May 2010
The Disappearance Of Alice Creed Review
You really do want to give British films a chance. Especially when it’s a stripped down thriller like The Disappearance Of Alice Creed and particularly when it’s generating half decent reviews (Mark Kermode, Empire) but guess what? Is this the most singularly negative film review blog in the history of film review blogs? Do I like anything I see at the cinema? I don’t think I can actually face writing yet another protracted negative review so here’s the cut and thrust:
Vic (Eddie Marsan) and Danny (Martin Compston) kidnap Alice (Gemma Arterton) for a million quid. We watch them meticulously prepare the kidnapping and snatch Alice and keep her shackled to a bed. For the next ninety minutes the power shifts between the three as secrets are outed, relationships revealed, twists and turns occur with glee abandon and, in that long tradition of movie crime, nothing goes according to plan.
I went in to Alice Creed knowing next to nothing about it and, for anyone interested in seeing it, I would advise you to do the same. My problems are that I found the characters very difficult to like and sympathise with (even the eponymous kidnap victim) many of the twists I simply found unbelievable (one in particular: for anyone who has read this blog before, you’ll know it when you see it) and much of the film followed the same formula which is that character A leaves the flat leaving characters B and C to fight/argue/whatever but, uh oh, character A is coming back… I understand that this is a product of the set up and to a degree is unavoidable but that doesn’t stop the film feeling repetitive. Also my flatmate made the good point that much of the film inadvertently ends up being about characters asking each other for the keys to the handcuffs. Seriously, you could make a new drinking game out of the amount of times someone says “Give me the keys.”
It’s not terrible I guess but I was never on the edge of my seat, there were about three too many twists, it could easily be 15 minutes shorter and much of the writing and acting is less than convincing. Though kudos to Martin Compston for being quite good looking. It’s trying to do something interesting and character led (with only 3 characters onscreen) and deserves credit for that but in the end it wasn’t for me.
4.5/10
Vic (Eddie Marsan) and Danny (Martin Compston) kidnap Alice (Gemma Arterton) for a million quid. We watch them meticulously prepare the kidnapping and snatch Alice and keep her shackled to a bed. For the next ninety minutes the power shifts between the three as secrets are outed, relationships revealed, twists and turns occur with glee abandon and, in that long tradition of movie crime, nothing goes according to plan.
I went in to Alice Creed knowing next to nothing about it and, for anyone interested in seeing it, I would advise you to do the same. My problems are that I found the characters very difficult to like and sympathise with (even the eponymous kidnap victim) many of the twists I simply found unbelievable (one in particular: for anyone who has read this blog before, you’ll know it when you see it) and much of the film followed the same formula which is that character A leaves the flat leaving characters B and C to fight/argue/whatever but, uh oh, character A is coming back… I understand that this is a product of the set up and to a degree is unavoidable but that doesn’t stop the film feeling repetitive. Also my flatmate made the good point that much of the film inadvertently ends up being about characters asking each other for the keys to the handcuffs. Seriously, you could make a new drinking game out of the amount of times someone says “Give me the keys.”
It’s not terrible I guess but I was never on the edge of my seat, there were about three too many twists, it could easily be 15 minutes shorter and much of the writing and acting is less than convincing. Though kudos to Martin Compston for being quite good looking. It’s trying to do something interesting and character led (with only 3 characters onscreen) and deserves credit for that but in the end it wasn’t for me.
4.5/10
'Allo?
This review is about 2 weeks too late… I simply didn’t get around to seeing The Ghost before this week. I won’t go into huge amounts of detail but I couldn’t let the film pass without congratulating that chameleon of accents Ewan McGregor on perfecting another dialect. Those of you who saw Ewan in Woddy Allen’s Cassandra’s Dream will have heard his cock-er-knee accent before. Add this to his “American” in The Men Who Stare At Goats and his Oirish in Angels And Demons and quite the CV is emerging. I still think Ewan McGregor is good with good material, Young Adam or Trainspotting for example. It’s just that his last few films have been pretty bad and he can never seem to rise above bad material. What’s interesting is that the choices he makes are usually understandable. Roman Polanski and Woody Allen are two directors every actor wants to work with and, I would imagine regardless of the script, chances are you’ll say yes to working with them. It’s just a pity these are two of the worst films of their careers. Same with Tim Burton. And who is going to turn down the chance of appearing in the Star Wars universe? Or to work for a presumably healthy payday alongside Tom Hanks for Ron Howard? It just seems to keep happening that the films end up being terrible and he’s bad in them. And it’s a shame because, as I say, he can be good and in person he comes off really well whenever I see him interviewed.
In fairness, in The Ghost he’s well matched by Pierce Brosnan and Kim Cattrell and even Olivia Williams, who comes out of the film better than anyone, kind of just has to hit one note for the entire film. The Ghost is plodding and dull. There is the germ of a good story in there and maybe the book is more interesting. But at two hours long with very little happening, Polanski’s film is a slog.
The best joke made about it was on Have I Got News For You when (I think it was Alexander Armstrong) quipped that The Ghost is a 15…but Polanski was sure it was an 18. The old ones are the best.
3/10
In fairness, in The Ghost he’s well matched by Pierce Brosnan and Kim Cattrell and even Olivia Williams, who comes out of the film better than anyone, kind of just has to hit one note for the entire film. The Ghost is plodding and dull. There is the germ of a good story in there and maybe the book is more interesting. But at two hours long with very little happening, Polanski’s film is a slog.
The best joke made about it was on Have I Got News For You when (I think it was Alexander Armstrong) quipped that The Ghost is a 15…but Polanski was sure it was an 18. The old ones are the best.
3/10
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