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
Thursday, 27 May 2010
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
Friday, 30 April 2010
Iron Man 2 Review
The Summer is here!!! Whoo!!! It’s blockbuster season and first out of the blocks is Iron Man 2. Tony Stark is BACK! Wealthy, adored, witty, pithy, charming, disarming and that’s before he suits up and kicks ass and…
Oh who am I kidding, I didn’t like it.
It’s six months since Tony Stark came out as Iron Man and, in his own words, he has “privatised world peace.” The element powering his heart and keeping him alive is also slowly poisoning him and he has been unable to find a replacement power source. The U.S. Senate is trying to get him to hand over the Iron Man weapon but he is successfully deflecting them, mainly, it would seem, on charm and sarcasm alone. Returning from the original are faithful secretary and love interest Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow) and his long suffering army buddy Rhodes (Don Cheadle replacing Terence Howard) . Newcomers are Ivan Vanko a.k.a. Whiplash (Mickey Rourke) who is hell bent on Stark’s/Iron Man’s demise due to a personal vendetta, Natalie Rushman a.k.a. Natasha Romanoff a.k.a. Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) a SHIELD operative under cover as a Stark Industries employee and the thankfully singularly named Justin Hammer (Sam Rockwell) a rival arms dealer and wannabe Tony Stark who takes Whiplash under his wing to create an army of Iron Men to render the original obsolete and ruin Stark’s legacy.
As you can see there is a lot going on in Iron Man 2. Which makes it even more strange how, after about half an hour, the film keels over and dies. For the first 15 minutes or so it’s business as usual. Fast talking Stark talks fast, acts cool, flirts with Pepper Potts yada yada yada. At this point comes the film’s best sequence by a mile where Stark goes to the Monaco Grand Prix and ends up in the race. Here, Whiplash makes his entrance, his electric whips cutting through metal with ease, sending race cars flying and devastating Stark in front of the world. It’s a really fun sequence, it feels like something different, it’s well directed by returning director Jon Favreau and there are several cool little moments, my favourite being Mickey Rourke, his electric whips crackling, walking the wrong way up the middle of the track as race cars zoom past him. When Stark turns into Iron Man the expectation is an epic battle and here the sequence falls short; the build up is way better than the payoff but, that aside, the film felt for a moment that it might become a fun, Summer blockbuster. And then it flatlines. Completely. The problem is that Iron Man 2 is completely aimless, totally directionless. It has nothing driving it and nowhere to go. It basically spends the next hour waiting for the finale. Which, you know, isn’t brilliant really. This is best described by what happens to Rourke’s character. Having unleashed a fun villain and a credible threat to Iron Man, what happens? He spends the next hour in a warehouse building stuff; welding, typing on his computer, waiting to be released again for the finale. Imagine if, in The Dark Knight, when The Joker was caught and captured he hadn’t escaped and had sat in jail waiting to be let out for the finale. It’s the same thing. The film doesn’t know what to do with him because it doesn’t know what it’s doing or where it’s going.
The middle hour is completely flat. Characters yabber at each other about nothing and the whole film is resting on Robert Downey Junior’s charisma. There is actually very little Iron Man in the film and while one could argue that Tony Stark is more interesting than Bruce Wayne, Bruce Banner or Peter Parker, ultimately we are there to see their superhero alter egos, not their normal personas. One or two individual moments work reasonably well, Stark getting drunk at his birthday for example because he believes he won’t live to see another. But these moments are exactly that; moments. Individually they are insufficient and collectively they don’t add up to anything. The issue of Stark being slowly poisoned seems to be the driving force for the film but the way it resolves is massively anti-climactic, way too easy and totally lacking in drama. On top of that, it never really impacts on the story. Stark as Iron Man is always able to fight and fly and do whatever he has to so we never really feel the threat of the poison. Add to that the fact that the main villain spends his time building robots and the other villain is pretending not to be a villain and you have a film completely devoid of threat, tension and interest. There was talk of the script being rushed through because of the writer’s strike and the film basically being made up as they went along and that would go a long way to explaining the problems with Iron Man 2. By the time the finale comes it’s too little too late. There are a couple of nice action moments but it ultimately comes down to CGI metal men clanging each other across the head and, well, I guess that just doesn’t do it for me. There is a wonderful line in The Dark Knight when the Joker asks Batman (and this is paraphrasing) if he really thought he would let the battle for Gotham’s soul come down to a fist fight between them. It’s a terrific idea and it’s something these superhero films could try and incorporate into their stories. Your hero is made of metal so your villain also has to be made of metal, and be bigger presumably, but where can you really go with that? Have all the action and special effects you want but be clever and do something different with your story and its finale.
I’m not a comic book fan and I never read Iron Man so most of the references and in jokes will be lost on me. I’m sure the geeks will get off on things I didn’t spot, although I did get one. And I was very proud! Much of what’s in Iron Man 2 of course is also set up for Marvel’s Avengers movie coming in 2012. There are 2 scenes with Samuel L Jackson as Nick Fury, both of which are redundant in this film, but which serve to remind us of the broader universe Iron Man is operating in. Also, Scarlett Johansson gets a fight scene of her own that’s quite good fun and, just for a moment, watching her in her figure hugging leather outfit, I could empathise with straight guys and lesbians; she really is hot. But none of this helps Iron Man 2 which, tries to be bigger and better than its predecessor and for a moment succeeds, but in the end settles for being at best more of the same and at worst not as good.
4.5/10
Oh who am I kidding, I didn’t like it.
It’s six months since Tony Stark came out as Iron Man and, in his own words, he has “privatised world peace.” The element powering his heart and keeping him alive is also slowly poisoning him and he has been unable to find a replacement power source. The U.S. Senate is trying to get him to hand over the Iron Man weapon but he is successfully deflecting them, mainly, it would seem, on charm and sarcasm alone. Returning from the original are faithful secretary and love interest Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow) and his long suffering army buddy Rhodes (Don Cheadle replacing Terence Howard) . Newcomers are Ivan Vanko a.k.a. Whiplash (Mickey Rourke) who is hell bent on Stark’s/Iron Man’s demise due to a personal vendetta, Natalie Rushman a.k.a. Natasha Romanoff a.k.a. Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) a SHIELD operative under cover as a Stark Industries employee and the thankfully singularly named Justin Hammer (Sam Rockwell) a rival arms dealer and wannabe Tony Stark who takes Whiplash under his wing to create an army of Iron Men to render the original obsolete and ruin Stark’s legacy.
As you can see there is a lot going on in Iron Man 2. Which makes it even more strange how, after about half an hour, the film keels over and dies. For the first 15 minutes or so it’s business as usual. Fast talking Stark talks fast, acts cool, flirts with Pepper Potts yada yada yada. At this point comes the film’s best sequence by a mile where Stark goes to the Monaco Grand Prix and ends up in the race. Here, Whiplash makes his entrance, his electric whips cutting through metal with ease, sending race cars flying and devastating Stark in front of the world. It’s a really fun sequence, it feels like something different, it’s well directed by returning director Jon Favreau and there are several cool little moments, my favourite being Mickey Rourke, his electric whips crackling, walking the wrong way up the middle of the track as race cars zoom past him. When Stark turns into Iron Man the expectation is an epic battle and here the sequence falls short; the build up is way better than the payoff but, that aside, the film felt for a moment that it might become a fun, Summer blockbuster. And then it flatlines. Completely. The problem is that Iron Man 2 is completely aimless, totally directionless. It has nothing driving it and nowhere to go. It basically spends the next hour waiting for the finale. Which, you know, isn’t brilliant really. This is best described by what happens to Rourke’s character. Having unleashed a fun villain and a credible threat to Iron Man, what happens? He spends the next hour in a warehouse building stuff; welding, typing on his computer, waiting to be released again for the finale. Imagine if, in The Dark Knight, when The Joker was caught and captured he hadn’t escaped and had sat in jail waiting to be let out for the finale. It’s the same thing. The film doesn’t know what to do with him because it doesn’t know what it’s doing or where it’s going.
The middle hour is completely flat. Characters yabber at each other about nothing and the whole film is resting on Robert Downey Junior’s charisma. There is actually very little Iron Man in the film and while one could argue that Tony Stark is more interesting than Bruce Wayne, Bruce Banner or Peter Parker, ultimately we are there to see their superhero alter egos, not their normal personas. One or two individual moments work reasonably well, Stark getting drunk at his birthday for example because he believes he won’t live to see another. But these moments are exactly that; moments. Individually they are insufficient and collectively they don’t add up to anything. The issue of Stark being slowly poisoned seems to be the driving force for the film but the way it resolves is massively anti-climactic, way too easy and totally lacking in drama. On top of that, it never really impacts on the story. Stark as Iron Man is always able to fight and fly and do whatever he has to so we never really feel the threat of the poison. Add to that the fact that the main villain spends his time building robots and the other villain is pretending not to be a villain and you have a film completely devoid of threat, tension and interest. There was talk of the script being rushed through because of the writer’s strike and the film basically being made up as they went along and that would go a long way to explaining the problems with Iron Man 2. By the time the finale comes it’s too little too late. There are a couple of nice action moments but it ultimately comes down to CGI metal men clanging each other across the head and, well, I guess that just doesn’t do it for me. There is a wonderful line in The Dark Knight when the Joker asks Batman (and this is paraphrasing) if he really thought he would let the battle for Gotham’s soul come down to a fist fight between them. It’s a terrific idea and it’s something these superhero films could try and incorporate into their stories. Your hero is made of metal so your villain also has to be made of metal, and be bigger presumably, but where can you really go with that? Have all the action and special effects you want but be clever and do something different with your story and its finale.
I’m not a comic book fan and I never read Iron Man so most of the references and in jokes will be lost on me. I’m sure the geeks will get off on things I didn’t spot, although I did get one. And I was very proud! Much of what’s in Iron Man 2 of course is also set up for Marvel’s Avengers movie coming in 2012. There are 2 scenes with Samuel L Jackson as Nick Fury, both of which are redundant in this film, but which serve to remind us of the broader universe Iron Man is operating in. Also, Scarlett Johansson gets a fight scene of her own that’s quite good fun and, just for a moment, watching her in her figure hugging leather outfit, I could empathise with straight guys and lesbians; she really is hot. But none of this helps Iron Man 2 which, tries to be bigger and better than its predecessor and for a moment succeeds, but in the end settles for being at best more of the same and at worst not as good.
4.5/10
Thursday, 29 April 2010
Shrink Review
What is this Shrink I hear you cry? I see no such film in cinemas! Have you completely lost your reason Garreth?!? Well watching Shrink I almost did lose my reason (more on that to follow) but no, thanks to my editor-in-chief, I got to see a preview screening. Shrink is released on June 4th. Make sure you’re busy with something else that weekend.
Shrink tells the story of Henry Carter (Kevin Spacey) psychiatrist to the stars and, well, everyone else in Hollywood too. His wife has recently committed suicide (having seen the film presumably) and Henry is self medicating on dope, unable to sleep in the bed he shared with his wife and pretty much useless to any of his patients. His family try an intervention which he scoffs at, this is a man who is HURTING. Okay? He’s IN PAIN. Got it? Okay, good. So here we are in our single protagonist’s shoes for a character study. That is, until we meet Patrick (Dallas Roberts) a hotshot agent and OCD Hypochondriac and one of Henry’s patients of course. He has an assistant Daisy (Pell James) who is pregnant (surrogate for her sister), put down by her boss and has dreams of becoming a producer. She starts seeing a writer Jeremy (Mark Webber) who is sensitive and talented and basically a good guy but is ruthless because he is friends with Henry and steals the file of a young and troubled patient Jemma (Keke Palmer) whose Mother recently committed suicide and whose life Jeremy reckons would make a great movie. Best of all though is Shamus. Ah Shamus. Where have you been all my life? Shamus is an Irish (“Irish”) actor who is clearly, in no way, absolutely NOT meant to be Colin Farrell despite his drug problems and self proclaimed big cock. Shamus, by the way, is represented by the hotshot hypochondriac. So now we’re not in a single protagonist film, this is clearly a multi protagonist film a la 21 Gramms or Babel. Except that Spacey gets most of the screen time, but not so much that it feels naturally like it’s his story. So what’s going on? Everyone in the film is linked, everyone in the film is troubled and tormented and everyone in the cinema is fucking comatose.
There is a lot going on in Shrink (and I actually haven’t mentioned all the characters; just take my word for it, you have the picture) and, with all that happening, here is the one thought that occupied my mind for most of the film’s running time. The director’s name is Jonas Pate. Now, is “Pate” pronounced like “Tate” in Catherine Tate? Or is it pronounced like the delicious spread that goes so well on toast? Mushroom, goose liver and so many other varieties? I SO hope it’s the later. “Hi everyone, I’m Jonas Pate” Awesome.
This film is dreadful. It’s puddle deep, the characters skimming the surface of issues that could and should be interesting but which are dealt with in the most shallow and tepid way possible. What doesn’t help is the fact that many of these people are utterly vacuous, shallow and intensely dislikeable so why should I give a shit about any of them? Not only that but the film is horribly, persistently, offensively contrived. The only sympathetic character is the young girl Jemma who has tragically lost her Mother and who still has a passion for the movies that the people either working in Hollywood or trying to get into Hollywood have long forgotten. Jemma is not the typical patient for Dr Spacey so how does the story get her to him?
1. Spacey’s Dad (Robert Loggia) is also a shrink.
Okay that’s a tad convenient but I’ll go with you.
2. Spacey’s Dad is deeply worried about his son and organises the family together to have an intervention to try and get Spacey into rehab.
Right… I don’t see how this is connected but okay I’ll buy that.
3. When Spacey angrily refuses the idea of rehab, Spacey’s Dad gives Spacey Jemma’s file and tells him to treat her.
Right okay…wait, what?
A trained psychiatrist is giving a drug user the file of an emotionally damaged, bereaved and traumatised 14 YEAR OLD GIRL… because it might be good for him??? It might help him get over his own problems and sort out his drug habit??? What the fuck?!?! “Well it was worth a try. She’s such a troubled girl I was sure it would bring him out of his depression. But it didn’t work. Oh well.” “How is the girl doing?” “Who? How is who doing?” This is just WRONG! This is a freight train to the groin wrong, i.e. it shouldn't happen!!! This is the worst example. But characters spend the whole film bumping into each other, happening to know each other, dropping things on the ground just as the character who shouldn’t find it, does find it… Even if the characters were engaging or the stories interesting the plotting is so thunderously lazy that it would take you out of the film anyway. As it is it’s just another example of how bad the film as a whole is.
Spacey has made a career out of characters who are cynical, intelligent and witty and the idea of him playing a messed up shrink is great. But this is a film without intelligence, depth and, maybe this is just my cynicism, but it actually felt that Pate and writer Thomas Moffett were exploiting the kinds of themes and the kinds of issues and the kinds of films they’ve seen before to create something meaningful, rather than just trying to create something meaningful. Actually forget meaningful, how about something interesting?
Shrink is cinematic rohipnol. I was forced into unconsciousness and woke up at the end of it not knowing what had happened but knowing for certain it wasn’t good. June 4th folks. Remember the date. And for the love of God, avoid the cinema.
1/10
(I REALLY want to give it 0/10 but I feel I should save my first 0/10 review for something that’s actually offensive)
Shrink tells the story of Henry Carter (Kevin Spacey) psychiatrist to the stars and, well, everyone else in Hollywood too. His wife has recently committed suicide (having seen the film presumably) and Henry is self medicating on dope, unable to sleep in the bed he shared with his wife and pretty much useless to any of his patients. His family try an intervention which he scoffs at, this is a man who is HURTING. Okay? He’s IN PAIN. Got it? Okay, good. So here we are in our single protagonist’s shoes for a character study. That is, until we meet Patrick (Dallas Roberts) a hotshot agent and OCD Hypochondriac and one of Henry’s patients of course. He has an assistant Daisy (Pell James) who is pregnant (surrogate for her sister), put down by her boss and has dreams of becoming a producer. She starts seeing a writer Jeremy (Mark Webber) who is sensitive and talented and basically a good guy but is ruthless because he is friends with Henry and steals the file of a young and troubled patient Jemma (Keke Palmer) whose Mother recently committed suicide and whose life Jeremy reckons would make a great movie. Best of all though is Shamus. Ah Shamus. Where have you been all my life? Shamus is an Irish (“Irish”) actor who is clearly, in no way, absolutely NOT meant to be Colin Farrell despite his drug problems and self proclaimed big cock. Shamus, by the way, is represented by the hotshot hypochondriac. So now we’re not in a single protagonist film, this is clearly a multi protagonist film a la 21 Gramms or Babel. Except that Spacey gets most of the screen time, but not so much that it feels naturally like it’s his story. So what’s going on? Everyone in the film is linked, everyone in the film is troubled and tormented and everyone in the cinema is fucking comatose.
There is a lot going on in Shrink (and I actually haven’t mentioned all the characters; just take my word for it, you have the picture) and, with all that happening, here is the one thought that occupied my mind for most of the film’s running time. The director’s name is Jonas Pate. Now, is “Pate” pronounced like “Tate” in Catherine Tate? Or is it pronounced like the delicious spread that goes so well on toast? Mushroom, goose liver and so many other varieties? I SO hope it’s the later. “Hi everyone, I’m Jonas Pate” Awesome.
This film is dreadful. It’s puddle deep, the characters skimming the surface of issues that could and should be interesting but which are dealt with in the most shallow and tepid way possible. What doesn’t help is the fact that many of these people are utterly vacuous, shallow and intensely dislikeable so why should I give a shit about any of them? Not only that but the film is horribly, persistently, offensively contrived. The only sympathetic character is the young girl Jemma who has tragically lost her Mother and who still has a passion for the movies that the people either working in Hollywood or trying to get into Hollywood have long forgotten. Jemma is not the typical patient for Dr Spacey so how does the story get her to him?
1. Spacey’s Dad (Robert Loggia) is also a shrink.
Okay that’s a tad convenient but I’ll go with you.
2. Spacey’s Dad is deeply worried about his son and organises the family together to have an intervention to try and get Spacey into rehab.
Right… I don’t see how this is connected but okay I’ll buy that.
3. When Spacey angrily refuses the idea of rehab, Spacey’s Dad gives Spacey Jemma’s file and tells him to treat her.
Right okay…wait, what?
A trained psychiatrist is giving a drug user the file of an emotionally damaged, bereaved and traumatised 14 YEAR OLD GIRL… because it might be good for him??? It might help him get over his own problems and sort out his drug habit??? What the fuck?!?! “Well it was worth a try. She’s such a troubled girl I was sure it would bring him out of his depression. But it didn’t work. Oh well.” “How is the girl doing?” “Who? How is who doing?” This is just WRONG! This is a freight train to the groin wrong, i.e. it shouldn't happen!!! This is the worst example. But characters spend the whole film bumping into each other, happening to know each other, dropping things on the ground just as the character who shouldn’t find it, does find it… Even if the characters were engaging or the stories interesting the plotting is so thunderously lazy that it would take you out of the film anyway. As it is it’s just another example of how bad the film as a whole is.
Spacey has made a career out of characters who are cynical, intelligent and witty and the idea of him playing a messed up shrink is great. But this is a film without intelligence, depth and, maybe this is just my cynicism, but it actually felt that Pate and writer Thomas Moffett were exploiting the kinds of themes and the kinds of issues and the kinds of films they’ve seen before to create something meaningful, rather than just trying to create something meaningful. Actually forget meaningful, how about something interesting?
Shrink is cinematic rohipnol. I was forced into unconsciousness and woke up at the end of it not knowing what had happened but knowing for certain it wasn’t good. June 4th folks. Remember the date. And for the love of God, avoid the cinema.
1/10
(I REALLY want to give it 0/10 but I feel I should save my first 0/10 review for something that’s actually offensive)
Wednesday, 28 April 2010
Centurion Review
Some films take you by suprise, for good or bad. Kick Ass is a recent example of a film I expected to dislike and ended up quite enjoying. Other times you expect to enjoy something and end up disappointed (The Wrestler) or absolutely gutted (Indiana Jones and the Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull. There IS no fourth film.) And then there are the films that do exactly, precisely, with zero deviation, what you think they are going to do. Welcome to the Centurion review.
The normally excellent Michael Fassbender plays Quintas Dias, the titular Centuron, whose battalion of Roman soldiers invading Britain is slaughtered by the native Picts early on in the film. Dias is captured but escapes and joins up with the Roman 9th Legion who are also wiped out save for Dias and four or five others. They are hunted by mute Pict tracker Olga Kurylenko and her crew and it is at this point that Centurion settles into being a chase movie. A very long chase movie.
To its credit, Centurion is a film that looks and feels bigger than it actually is. I would imagine the budget for the film was fairly low, very low by the standards of most movies of this genre, and for the most part the film succeeds in not being hampered by that issue. The film makes good use of its locations and the tough Scottish landscape with its cold, wet climate and much of the photography is stunning. But, in the end, who cares? Not me. Maybe had Centurion been a brisk, get-in-and-get-out, 85/90 minute job I could have gone with it. Though that said, a manageable running time didn't help my lack of enjoyment of Apocalypto, Centurion's spiritual cousin. As it is, the film takes what feels like an age to do very little. Michael Fassbender is one of my favourite young actors, not "British" actors as he is so often called by the way; he is Irish. I'm just saying. His work in Eden Lake, Fish Tank and in particular his stunning portrayal of Bobby Sands in Hunger have set him apart as an actor of considerable talent. Here though he is given very little to get his teeth into other than the film's many, many fight sequences. While he aquits himself well in these scenes, there is never any real sense of growth as he goes from centurion to General and, weirdly, I never really believed him as a leader of men. Fassbender is supported by The Wire's Dominic West who seems to have forgotten how to act, David Morrissey who I'm not sure has ever known how to act, Noel Clarke as a very East London sounding Roman andOlga Kurylenko as the silent but deadly Etain. When your most believeable and charismatic character hasn't got a single line to say you know you're in trouble.
You know exactly what you're going to get from Neil Marshall and I guess there is some comfort in familiarity. There's nothing inherently wrong with a meat and potatoes genre film, but what can I say? I like a spoon of gravy too.
4.5/10
The normally excellent Michael Fassbender plays Quintas Dias, the titular Centuron, whose battalion of Roman soldiers invading Britain is slaughtered by the native Picts early on in the film. Dias is captured but escapes and joins up with the Roman 9th Legion who are also wiped out save for Dias and four or five others. They are hunted by mute Pict tracker Olga Kurylenko and her crew and it is at this point that Centurion settles into being a chase movie. A very long chase movie.
To its credit, Centurion is a film that looks and feels bigger than it actually is. I would imagine the budget for the film was fairly low, very low by the standards of most movies of this genre, and for the most part the film succeeds in not being hampered by that issue. The film makes good use of its locations and the tough Scottish landscape with its cold, wet climate and much of the photography is stunning. But, in the end, who cares? Not me. Maybe had Centurion been a brisk, get-in-and-get-out, 85/90 minute job I could have gone with it. Though that said, a manageable running time didn't help my lack of enjoyment of Apocalypto, Centurion's spiritual cousin. As it is, the film takes what feels like an age to do very little. Michael Fassbender is one of my favourite young actors, not "British" actors as he is so often called by the way; he is Irish. I'm just saying. His work in Eden Lake, Fish Tank and in particular his stunning portrayal of Bobby Sands in Hunger have set him apart as an actor of considerable talent. Here though he is given very little to get his teeth into other than the film's many, many fight sequences. While he aquits himself well in these scenes, there is never any real sense of growth as he goes from centurion to General and, weirdly, I never really believed him as a leader of men. Fassbender is supported by The Wire's Dominic West who seems to have forgotten how to act, David Morrissey who I'm not sure has ever known how to act, Noel Clarke as a very East London sounding Roman andOlga Kurylenko as the silent but deadly Etain. When your most believeable and charismatic character hasn't got a single line to say you know you're in trouble.
You know exactly what you're going to get from Neil Marshall and I guess there is some comfort in familiarity. There's nothing inherently wrong with a meat and potatoes genre film, but what can I say? I like a spoon of gravy too.
4.5/10
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