COSMOPOLIS

Road movies - they celebrate the open road, the freedom of travel, and the discovery of the self. Hardly the kind of genre you would expect to be a claustrophobic and dystopian philosophical musing on modern day capitalism. Yet here we are, with David Cronenberg bringing us a strikingly original take on the road movie based on Don DeLillo’s novel of the same name.

First things first, this movie is nowhere near as action packed as the trailer would have you believe. This is what I hate about trailers, they sell a film as something it’s not, people go to see it, hate it, and then tell everyone it sucks. This is something I’m sure scores of screaming R-Patz fans are going to be doing as his character - Eric Packer, a super rich billionaire - is a far cry from the smouldering, floppy haired and vacuous Edward Cullen that they would come to expect. Instead what we have is a study of a cold and calculating young man at the pinnacle of his existence, where the only way for him to go is down.

And a long way down he goes as well - treading familiar Cronenberg ground, the edge of human mentality and physicality - he loses everything he has in the space of a day in his limo trying to get across town to get a haircut. These are mostly events that take place outside of the car, which doubles up as his control centre, and shows that even those who command such incredible wealth and power are not completely invulnerable to the outside world. One particular sequence, in which Eric gets a cream pie to the face, can only lead to recollections of one News Corporation CEO falling to a similar fate.

Though despite the events that send his life spiralling out of control occur outside of his limo, the severe majority of the film takes place within the confines of it. A lot of the time it’s just the characters talking, and even the dialogue is something that would barely be used in a real conversation, but that’s not to say that nothing happens. It’s the performances and cinematography that make this film shine. Pattinson is brilliant as Packer, and his performance is one that is likely to break him from the R-Patz mould. He is fierce, yet blank - the epitome of cold calculation you would expect from such a figure in the real world. The camera work and lighting are enough to keep the conversations visually interesting as well as subtly creating the detached mood of the film.

It is this complete otherness that the film exudes that is going to divide the audiences. People have walked out of it, people have praised it, and people have vehemently attacked it all over the web. It’s a film to get people talking, and the issues it discusses in the film have never been so relevant today. It’s a startlingly close, if not hyper exaggerated, rendition of our times and if it gets people talking, then it has done it’s job. 

iLL Manors

Let’s rewind for a moment back to August 2011. Police stop search a young man in Hackney and set off a chain of events that exploded into widespread rioting and looting that was to spread across the country. Ever since then, people have been looking for a reason behind the mentality of these people’s actions. This is where Ben Drew (aka Plan B) comes in with his take on the subject with his debut feature, iLL Manors - a contradictory film that doesn’t quite cut as close to the bone as it could.

To make one thing clear, I did not come from a background or a lifestyle of any similarity to those depicted in the film, hence why I am not going to be talking about the film’s realism - but a little research shows that the events depicted seem to be quite close to real things that do go on in a London that David Cameron doesn’t want the world to see with all eyes on the upcoming Olympic frivolities. So this is a very brave move from Drew and he’s certainly chosen the right medium to open up a discussion on the underlying issues of the riots, rather than the damning news reports that reduce the actions to nothing more than ‘criminality’.

However, it’s a shame that this realism has been undone by some of the formal choices he made in the presentation of his film. A multi-stranded narrative, we are introduced to the main players by a little rhythm and poetry from the man himself (the film is a companion piece to his upcoming album of the same title and the tracks, I can only assume are taken from said album). Now this is a neat little touch, but what it ultimately boils down to is exposition of the character’s back-story, leading the characterisation to seem forced with an air of “they are this way because I wrote them this way”.

Combine this with some stylistic flourishes in the camera work and some over used time-lapse photography, the film feels much more like an overly long music video than a social realist film. The style of it does make me wonder as to whether a feature length film was the right platform for this project. He may have been able to do something similar to Daft Punk’s Interstellar 5555 (if you haven’t seen it, you absolutely MUST) - a long short film set to an album - and make it have more of an affect, which is what this film lacks. It’s kind of like watching a train crash, brutal and unrelenting with no hope in sight, which makes it’s completely convenient, happy ending more like the studios forced it on him than something he actually wanted to include in the finished product and essentially takes the venom out of the sting.

That’s what the real problem with iLL Manors is - it’s been dulled down by a main contradiction that runs throughout the film and is especially prevalent at the end. The idea is that we are all products of our environment, and this environment breeds a particular kind of person that would have been found in the rioting and looting. But the film ultimately states that while this is the case, we all have a choice in our complicity with this environment.

There are some really great moments in this film, and the message is one that’s all too clear. There are issues that need to be talked about and I commend Drew for bringing these ideas back to popular culture. But the way he tells the story has been done many times before, to much greater effect.

THE RAID

One of the most incredible things about forking out the price of a DVD to go to the cinema is the buzz and the noise you hear when a film strikes a particular chord with an audience - comedies have the howling laughter, dramas have the teary sobs, horrors have the screams of terror etc. But recently, these kinds of reactions seem to be in decline, especially in action films as they get bigger and bigger in an attempt to show us things we have never seen before. The Raid, an Indonesian martial arts flick directed by Welshman Gareth Evans, brings back the visceral reaction we hope to get with an action film and punches you square in the gut with it.

The plot couldn’t be simpler - 20 police officers head to a tower block in the Jakarta slums to apprehend a psychotic crime lord. There is however, one snag; this place is a haven for any criminal willing to pay protection money and serve under the rule of said psychotic crime lord. So once the police squad get spotted, chaos naturally ensues. There are a couple of twists and turns to the tale, but nothing groundbreaking. This is totally OK though, because the experience (and trust me, it is an experience) won’t allow much room to breathe, let alone develop a complex plot.

But don’t let the simple plot fool you, The Raid offers something much more visually complicated than your bog standard action film. Instead of cutting every half a second to disorientate the audience and disguise the fact they aren’t actually fighting, Evans allows for longer shots and relies on the astonishing talent of the star, Iko Uwais to provide an authentic realism that adds to the visceral nature of the film. Also adding to the excitement is that these fight scenes have a certain sense of desperation about them, they don't seem 100% planned. Combine this with a camera choreography that compliments the action and you certainly feel every bone breaking, skull smashing stunt you see on screen. If you thought it couldn’t get any better, the on screen carnage is accompanied by a symphony of heavy punches, bones snapping, machetes chopping and squeals of pain all to a meaty, beaty soundtrack from Mike Shinoda (from Linkin Park…blast from my past right there).

This is a film that sets out to assault the senses and its ability to do this well is what’s getting it all of the praises of everyone who’s seen it. Sure, it’s an incredibly simple film with plenty of violence that barely gives you a moments rest to develop its basic story - but the sum of its parts creates something far more intelligent than the big blockbusters that try so desperately to instil a sense of awe in an audience. This is something that brings cinema back to the days of the medium’s origin, where the Lumiére brother’s screening of a train pulling into a station caused their audience to dive out of the way and run out of the tent to look for the train behind the screen. It’s a visceral testament to the powerful kind of magic that cinema has on us.

The Problem with Lisbeth Salander

After all the hype that’s been surrounding Stieg Larsson’s Millenium trilogy, spawning a Swedish film adaptation of all 3 books and an American adaptation of the first instalment (with two others on the way I presume), I figured I might as well check it out and see what all the hype was about and sat down to David Fincher’s rendition of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. What I found was a very competent and largely enjoyable thriller, greatly crafted in almost every aspect except for one - Lisbeth Salander (played by Rooney Mara).

This isn’t a review; you pretty much know how I feel about the film from the last paragraph. But what I want to talk about is not only why Lisbeth lets down the film, but also how her portrayal can be seen as worrying considering that she is the biggest draw of the story and has been the main selling point for many people that have invested in the series. Also, I would like to point out that I have not read the books, so please call me on something if it’s wrong, but the point I am looking to make in all likelihood stem from the source material on which the film was based.

The problem is the presentation of Lisbeth as some sort of feminist role model. She’s a rebellious, bisexual and independent woman; free to do whatever she wants and is a freelance hacker who gathers personal information for an anonymous company. Sounds like quite the strong female character. Yet this really couldn’t be further from the truth, in a character arc that seems to jump forward in logic and motivation before finally placing her in a position in which she is briefly emotionally saved from herself by Mikael Blomkvist (played by Daniel Craig) before being let down and ending on the generic male perspective of feminists - that they believe “all men are bastards”.

So to begin at the start of the film, she has a narrative that is completely separate from Mikael’s and they don’t actually meet for a good thirty minutes. This narrative takes us down a very dark route; her legal guardian - the man responsible for providing her with a decent living allowance (in which I assume is a Swedish government funded system) - has had a stroke and as a result becomes mentally incapacitated. This basically means that she now has no money and is referred onto another guardian, who turns out to be a rapist and wants sex in return for the money he is supposed to provide her.

The first time this happens, it’s oral, and is more of a psychological than physical affair. Lisbeth reluctantly submits to what is happening to her in order to get the money and in effect, is relying on satisfying a man in order to get money. The second time she plans to secretly record the events, thinking she was just going to be doing the same thing again. However, things get a lot nastier and more physical than the previous time. Eventually, she goes back for a third time, but she’s back for revenge and sets him up a treat in one of the best retorts for such an atrocity (I won’t spoil it too much for those of you that haven’t seen it).

So she comes out a champion and she has been set up as a tough individual, with smarts and a twisted imagination and eventually turns the rapist’s mind games back around in order to get the money she wants. So far so good, she’s a strong woman in the end - supposedly.

But then in swoops Mikael with this case that he needs her help with. She is interested and takes it on, helping him out and eventually getting rather intimate with him, seemingly coming from nowhere. She lets her emotional barriers down and grows to like him. They fuck a few times (again, any motivation for this seems to come from out of the blue) and by the time the case is solved, she’s saved him from being tied up and the usual thriller lark - she’s the real action hero of the piece. But then comes the coda, where Mikael sets off with Lisbeth’s help to address the reason he has been disgraced, which is seen at the start of the film (a narrative that takes place alongside Lisbeth’s until they meet).

In this part, we see Lisbeth go above and beyond to ensure that everything is OK for Mikael in the end, and she even buys him a gift and goes to meet him all doe eyed and one might push to say ‘loved up’ to an extent…OK not ‘loved up’ but she’s definitely happier than before she met him. BUT she sees him with another woman - a married woman he was involved with at the start of the film. She dumps his present and rides her motorcycle off into the night and we are left with an empty frame, suggesting her isolation and loneliness.

This final 15 minutes or so of the film has completely undone her entire character set up as feminist anti-hero because in the end, everything she’s done was for a man and it seems to be the only emotional solace that she is able to find. The image of a strong woman is broken down by her own romantic ambitions and it’s only in her rejection that she gets angry and becomes herself again. What it boils down to is this: if a woman is independent, she can’t have a man, and without a man, she will remain unhappy. So they have to choose one or the other.

The worrying thing about this is that as people are praising Lisbeth as this feminist role model for standing up for yourself - which for the large part she is - they aren’t realising that her character is in fact a pseudo feminist role model. One who has the traits of the powerful and strong woman but at the cost of her own happiness, destined forever to be a loner. So despite having some original flair to it, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo is at it’s core, has the same representation of women as every other male centric crime thriller ever written.

This is just something to think about as you watch the film though. Please don’t let it hamper your enjoyment of it because it is a great film that’s worth the time it takes to watch it, and in all likelihood I will probably watch parts 2 and 3 of the trilogy - providing it has the same calibre team that was behind this part.

THE CABIN IN THE WOODS

There’s a certain curiosity to be had before going in to see The Cabin In The Woods - one that asks the question as to whether it actually does strip the horror genre of its tight cheerleader uniform before grabbing it by its long blonde hair and pulling its head off as promised from its marketing campaign. The combined writing effort of Joss Whedon (creator of Buffy and Angel and writer of Toy Story) and Drew Goddard (writer of Cloverfield), who also directs, there was certainly the promise of a fresh take on a tired format. And it certainly doesn’t fail to deliver - providing us with a smart and reflexive genre film whilst remaining freshly entertaining and full of laughs.

It all starts off with every possible cliché known to man: a jock, a nice guy, a stoner, a whore and a virginal type all venture off for a cabin holiday in the middle of nowhere. They stop off at the traditional creepy gas station and have the usual foreboding crazy gas man act all crazy at them before leaving him behind as the obvious last post of civilisation. They get to the cabin and you instantly picture their blood all over the walls as everything just screams YOU ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!!! Please - stop me if you’ve heard this one before.

But The Cabin In The Woods is much more sophisticated than that. Revealing much of the ulterior plot quite early on in the film, it uses that to riff off the unfortunate events that befall our generic heroes and in turn flip our generic expectations, thus keeping the film continuously fresh despite using the common tropes of horror films. With a tongue firmly in its cheek, it isn’t afraid to use the plot devices that it is mocking in order to propel the story and it falls very firmly into the category of self-referencing films that are being released at the moment (see my review on 21 Jump Street).

However, despite its intelligence it never gets too smart for itself and isn’t afraid to break out the big guns for what quite frankly is one of the most batshit insane third acts I’ve ever seen in any film. There’s plenty of humour and gross out moments to satisfy the teenage audience Hollywood is so desperately trying to please these days - but it doesn’t stoop to the juvenile level of the Scary Movie franchise to get the laughs. The large part of the cast play out their roles to an acceptable standard, with a couple of stand out performances and one completely unexpected appearance - but the large part of the entertainment is down to the fantastic script and solid direction grounded in a firm understanding of the genre they are satirising.

Don’t think there aren’t any scary parts though; there were moments where I did jump a little and a few moments where the tension is ramped up to great effect. And like all good horror films, there is an underlying message or fear that’s in the subconscious of society - but I’ll let you watch it and figure it out because if I were to go into detail, it would spoil some of the twists and turns in this great genre mashing mental film.

ONCE UPON A TIME IN ANATOLIA

At a time where the cinematic mainstream is overrun with fast paced and over edited, attention grabbing quick fire films, it’s very refreshing to delve into smaller and often foreign films that slow down the pace and meditate on the themes it is addressing. Nothing I have seen in recent times has done this more than Once Upon A Time In Anatolia - the latest film from Turkish director Nuri Bilge Ceylan. Running at 150 minutes, the film follows a haphazard group of police officers and officials as they drag a weary perp around the Anatolian Steppes in search of where he committed an undisclosed crime. However, this narrative is merely a backdrop for a cinematic meditation of middle-aged men and how they deal with crisis, as well as a musing on the beauty of life in a world full of violence and monotony.

Let me say from the outset that this film isn’t going to be for everyone. It’s pacing is so slow it makes 2001: A Space Odyssey look as fast as the Transformers films - it sets to try your patience just as the perp tries the patience of the officials as they search for the crime scene. But as the saying goes: good things come to those who wait - your patience will be rewarded with a rich and engaging experience through some of the most beautiful photography ever committed to celluloid and with one of the most subtly clever scripts that really lets each individual audience member take away something different.

But through all of its metaphysical and philosophical musings, this is still a genre film. Firmly set up as a police procedural film, we are introduced to each of the characters as they discuss the banal procedure they are undergoing as well as the goings on in each of their lives. Conversations ranging from food to prostate infections crop up throughout and each character grows very delicately as we learn more about them piece by piece. As the procedure progresses, so do the characters, and it’s all so closely tied in with the pacing of the whole thing - everything here is working together in harmony.

But not only are the script and cinematography pitch perfect, the writer/director has also managed to garner incredible performances from his predominantly male cast. Each individual tic from the actors adds the crucial third dimension to each character, making them stand out from one another and fully drawing you into their deathly dull procedure. You feel as though you’re there with them, and that’s what all good films do. They transport you into their world and make you empathize with their characters.

But ultimately, at the end of the long journey - followed by an extended coda once they return to town and a wide open ending - it’s what you personally feel about the film, which is what makes the experience so enriching. I mentioned in an earlier review that films essentially strive to reveal a particular truth about the human condition, what Once Upon A Time In Anatolia does is allow you to find that truth for yourself.

21 JUMP STREET

I’m not going to lie; I really wasn’t expecting to like this film. I had a couple of hours to kill and my cineworld unlimited card was just itching to be used so I went in and chose the film that was starting first. So imagine my surprise when I found myself laughing along to what has to be one of the freshest comedies of recent times.

The opening sees Schmidt (Jonah Hill) in full clad Eminem gear - bleach blond hair and all - get rejected by the head cheerleader he asks to prom in front of the lead jock, Jenko (Channing Tatum) in an all too familiar high school prom date rejection scene. However, that is where the similarities to such films end. 4 years on, and the pair meet again at police academy and become friends. Now fully-fledged policemen, they are far from the action they expected on park patrol where high-speed chases are at an all time low. After a show of gross incompetence, and because they still look young, the pair are busted to an undercover unit to infiltrate a local high school to uncover a drug ring.

So far so average, and with a few laughs in this opening I was getting ready for a let down, but it actually gets better. And here’s why: as they give some smart remarks and backchat to their new squad lieutenant (played by a fantastically cast Ice Cube) about their new assignment, he yells at them and says, “embrace your stereotypes!” That’s what the film does. It embraces all of the generic clichés and fully understands them in order to subvert the usual expectations of not only the buddy cop genre, but the high school movie genre as well. The most notable example is the fact that Schmidt is now the cool kid and Jenko is the nerd hanging out with all the science kids.

But what really makes the film work is the comic timing between Hill and Tatum. I never would have pegged Tatum as a comedy actor and Jonah Hill hasn’t really done anything of comic merit since the overrated Superbad - so seeing the two of them on the poster made me a bit more confused than anything. However, it actually works fantastically well and is what really carries the film through its predictable narrative. You see; it isn’t the narrative that makes the film fresh, but the comedy that is woven into it. And this comedy is very 21^st century. Cynical and self-referencing, it embraces the style of its predecessors whilst sharply mocking them. There is even a cameo from Johnny Depp - and a fantastic one at that - which seems fitting seeing as it was the 80’s TV show this film is based on that pretty much kick started his career.

So ultimately, while it isn’t setting the benchmark for originality in its storytelling, 21 Jump Street is a solid entry into the comedy buddy cop genre. Where the story is predictable and on the odd occasion the comedy divulges in gross out humour (probably to appeal to the younger teen audiences), it also delivers enough genuine laughs from a very strong comedy pairing to make up for all its flaws and provide a thoroughly enjoyable experience that’s probably going to be one of the best comedies of the year. 

RAMPART

You like films about dirty cops? You like to watch them run off the rails doing bad things? You like to watch them make wise cracks as they crack skulls and rob perps while they beat them to a bloody pulp? If the answer to most of these is yes, then Rampart will be disappointing. BUT, if you like intense character studies, low key performances and altogether something a little bit different, go and see it because you will not be disappointed.

This pretty much sums up the overall reaction to rampart, which has been mixed to say the least. Woody Harrelson plays ‘Date Rape’ Dave Brown - a police officer belonging to the LAPD Rampart division - a man who is in control, knows his business and isn’t afraid to cross the line in the name of justice both in aid of the court and himself. Based around the true case of the Rampart police corruption scandal in 1999 that subsequently shut down the department, the film’s director - Oren Moverman - takes us away from the overarching big case story and instead chooses to focus on Dave’s life as it begins to fall apart in the wake of the scandal. The result is a very intimate portrait of a man who is so completely convinced he is in the right that he will go further into the wrong to prove it.

This is subjective filmmaking at its most prominent. Moverman really presents the world as seen through Dave’s eyes, from every argument he has with his family (he has fathered two daughters by two sisters and still lives casually with them) to a mad night in a deranged club (which is one of the best club scenes committed to celluloid). This is just as well, because if this story were to be seen from the outside, Dave would seem like a complete prick. And he is a complete prick, but the subjective filmmaking allows us to sympathise with him…OK maybe not ‘sympathise’, it just makes us hate him a whole lot less.

Harrelson goes full throttle into the performance, right down to the big, butch LAPD walk. He’s hyper masculine, yet charming, yet troubled, yet paranoid and so on and so forth. Moverman and Harrelson have created an incredibly complex character that completely carries the audience through the jumpy narrative - we never really see any of the big events break AS they break, just how they’re filtered down to Dave and how they affect him. There is no clear and concise narrative sequence, which can leave viewers feeling frustrated, but once you get settled into the film you begin to connect the various dots and you can really see how adamant this man is that above all things, he is right.

So, as I’ve said before, this film won’t be for everyone. The almost vignette-like narrative combined with a more intimate and emotional approach that doesn’t have any explosions or car chases will leave many fans of the dirty cop genre  (or any other action/thriller for that matter) disappointed. There are some great, straightforward dirty cop movies out there, but not many of them really go into such psychological detail as Rampart, which is definitely a great strength to have. Here is a relatively fresh take on a tired subject that isn’t afraid to delve right into the intimate emotions felt by these people that breaks down the whole myth about the LAPD to reveal that despite their tough image, they are still human.

THE WOMAN IN BLACK

Horror films both amaze me, and infuriate me. The good ones are completely nerve shredding and the bad ones cause fits of laughter. It is perhaps one of the most parodied genres of all time (Scream, Scary Movie et. al) thanks to its conventions being so overused and obvious, but it is also one of the most interesting in that treading the history of the genre correlates to societal fears at the time of release (e.g. one can see Ringu as a fear steeped not only in technology, but identity theft, as Sadako kills, leaving her victims almost unchanged, coupled with the need to copy the tape to pass the curse on induces the idea that she steals a persons soul and repeats the process). So where does The Woman in Black fit into this highly varied genre? Well, to put it simply, it’s in the bad pile - but not for a lack of trying.

Arthur Kipps (Daniel Radcliffe) is a man about to lose his job and his home. Working for a law firm, he leaves his young son to work on a job sorting out the plethora of legal documents left behind by an old woman in a big mansion in the middle of nowhere. Pretty standard set up, all delivered in a highly contrived and clunky piece of expositional writing that is so desperate to get on with the scares that it completely forgets the story. In the end, it just means that there is no characterisation and no concern as to what actually happens to Kipps - which dulls the scares quite a bit if you’re planning on putting him in jeopardy. What we actually have here is shoot-by-numbers horror film that stays so true to its gothic horror nature that it becomes predictable and trite - using generic shock tactics that pack all the punch of a soggy marshmallow.

Not that I’m against this kind of film. It can work when it’s done well, but most of the time that means not taking itself too seriously. Drag Me To Hell was a rollercoaster that had small sections of simple story punctuated by big jumpy set pieces that just had a lot of fun with the ridiculous story and just wanting to make the audience scream as much as possible. The main problem with The Woman in Black is that it takes itself way too seriously considering that it follows to a fault all the conventions of a ghost story without the actual story part to back it up. What it has ended up as is a film about a guy wondering around a haunted house and sometimes in the neighbouring town to encounter the strange townsfolk for an hour and a half. There is a story to be had, but it would rather get on with being scary than really get you involved in the world it creates.

So not only is The Woman in Black not a very good horror film, it also is not a very good film as a whole. There are a couple of scares that were effective, and it did show some promise, but its chopping and changing between the house and the neighbouring town isn’t handled very well in creating an overall atmosphere other than it being grey and miserable. This lack of atmosphere is not at all helped by the poor sound design. A horror film’s worth is largely based on a good sound design, whether it be signifying sounds that indicate something is wrong (the beeping of the scanner in Alien), a genuinely freaky sound that send shivers down your spine (the ‘click click click’ sound of The Grudge), or even the really subtle sounds that are grounded in reality (The House of the Devil does this for most of the film and it’s incredibly tense), anything lacking in the sound department can lead to change the mood entirely from something scary to something funny.

Thankfully The Woman in Black doesn’t stray too much into the ‘funny’ side of horror, but a better handling of it could have delivered something much better. But the things it really lacks are a point and a decent story. There is no particular fear that it addresses and nothing has been put in place to make you care about what happens to the characters. It tries to characterise a lot of people and as such ends up painting nothing more than caricatures and because it’s so confused between trying to scare you and trying to make you empathise with people it doesn’t have time to find a fear it’s trying to address.

So as a post Harry Potter vehicle for Radcliffe (I guess it had to be mentioned at some point), it’s hardly anything to write home about. It wasn’t the best casting choice (despite it being biologically possible, his baby face really doesn’t make him look like the father of a 4 year old), but it doesn’t really point to how well his career is going to go. A limited range of being either scared of confused doesn’t really allow him much room to prove himself, but I can’t deny he has this effortlessly likeable screen presence, meaning this film isn’t going to ruin him. But down the line, I don’t think he’ll be reminiscing about this outing to Eel Marsh if he ever picks up an Oscar.

CARNAGE

Parents will always worry about how their children will turn out, and there will always be the debate of nature vs. nurture. Are our kids naturally destined to become reprobates on the Jeremy Kyle show or can strict parenting get them on their way to achieving that PhD from Oxford? Such concerns are those of the parents at the centre of Carnage, Roman Polanski’s satirical stab at the politically correct middle classes who are so very desperate not to offend anyone.

The four protagonists are two sets of parents (one couple played by Kate Winslet and Christoph Waltz, the other Jodie Foster and John C. Reilly) whose children have gotten into a fight. They decide to meet up and discuss the incident and how to go about reprimanding the children in a civilised fashion. Of course, things spiral out of control, tempers start flaring and everyone ends up acting more childish than the kids. Add alcohol to the mix and…well I’m sure you’ve experienced the emotional effects of one too many.

Originally based on a play (the playwright also helped Polanski pen the screenplay, so at least the spirit of the original source material is there), 99% of the film takes place entirely in one location. For a play, this is advantageous because it doesn’t require set changes and the stage is the actual boundary in which this rather talky story can be told. However, when you get into the realm of film, these boundaries cease to exist. Camera angles and sets, even planets can change with a simple cut, so it’s hard to confine all the action to one space that doesn’t physically trap the characters. What this ultimately means is that you find yourself constantly asking why they don’t just leave. Even at the points where they are practically out the door, something manages to drag them back in again and this repetition causes the opening to drag somewhat.

However, once their manners begin to dissipate, the real comedy starts and the film gets very entertaining and begins to flow a lot more. The humour is witty and snide, backed up by decent performances (from a cast where 3 of 4 have won Oscars, what would you expect?) from the four leads. Each character is has their own set of believable ticks and the character progression from civilised to barbarism is natural. And at a brisk 80 minutes, it certainly doesn’t want to hang around for too long, which is more than can be said about the characters.

There is one big problem with it though - it really isn’t very memorable (apart from Kate Winslet’s no infamous projectile vomiting scene), which leads me to think that maybe Carnage isn’t as aggressive as the title claims it to be. It’s an interesting thematic concept - how adults are trapped by manners and attempts to please everyone, when all they want to do is act like children and lash out at anyone that says they’re wrong - but is it one that really needs addressing? Surely we all know this, even if it’s subconscious, we know it. This intimate knowledge of the driving force of the story then in the end sucks out the venom that Polanski is trying to sting you with.

It’s a shame really, because it really is so bloody entertaining. So by all means, go and watch it, enjoy the great performances and the zinger upon zinger dialogue. Just don’t see it as anything more than watching intellectuals trip over their own political correctness which, let’s face it, is always fun.

THE DESCENDANTS

“Paradise? Paradise can go fuck itself.”

This line pretty much sums up the entire philosophy of Matt King (George Clooney), a middle-aged man in crisis. His wife is in a coma after hitting her head in a boating accident, his 10-year-old daughter Scottie (Amara Miller) is acting out, and 17-year-old daughter Alex (Shailene Woodley) is all too aware how absent her father has been over the course of their lives. Then, just to make the whole matter worse, Alex reveals to her father that his wife was having an affair before the accident.

The Descendants is the long awaited return from Alexander Payne, director of Oscar Winning Sideways (for best adapted screenplay, which he also co-wrote), and deals with themes of the family, uncertainty, and reconnection in the same way as many Indie films of the same ilk. Infused with a degree of honesty that births humour from a bad situation and everyday occurrences, it rings much like Win Win or Little Miss Sunshine in its portrayal of a patriarch struggling with the world he has built for himself.

It’s this honesty that really makes the film shine and coupled with the delicate intimacy that Payne directs the film with, it feels like you’re taking the journey with them. Every character turn and plot twist reveals something new and draws in your sympathies - even with Alex’s stereotypical douchebag surfer friend, Sid, who tags along for her moral support. This is screenwriting at its best and I would be happy if it picks up Payne’s second Oscar for best adapted screenplay (but the prize will probably go to Moneyball, which admittedly, I haven’t seen so I shouldn’t really be judging).

However, it’s not just great writing that make the characters come to life. The performances by the entire cast are great - especially from the younger members. Scottie has a great naivety as she struggles to understand why the people around her are acting so weird, Alex is brash and outspoken whilst hiding her emotions to protect her little sister and Sid turns out to be much more than the 2 dimensional ‘surfer dude’ we’re introduced to. And of course there is Clooney’s master class in restrained acting - bettered this (Oscar) year only by Gary Oldman in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - but whether you believe Clooney as a struggling family man will affect whether you believe entirely in his character. But what makes the performances stand out is that they feel completely real.

The realism of the film turns it into a piece of work that doesn’t romanticise everything. There isn’t a sweeping orchestral score dictating our emotions (the music used is wonderful, but I’ll let you see it and find out for yourself), there aren’t explosions of emotions to show how distraught the characters are, the cinematography is beautiful without being like a postcard tour of Hawaii and its neighbouring islands and the comedy all comes from very real dialogue instead of big set piece jokes and slapstick. Yet it isn’t an entirely realistic film in that it depicts real life as we live it, the realism instead is embedded deeper in the subtext and comes about as something that all films seek to explore - truth.

A classic film reveals or explores a particular truth about the human condition (even blockbusters such as Jurassic Park - man’s futile desire to play God/control life), which is why they become timeless. And whether The Descendants becomes a commercial smash hit or not, it will stand the test of time because its honest and real portrayal of a father under pressure explores something we should all think about - what will our descendant generations inherit, both physically and morally, from us?

SHAME

When I first watched ‘Hunger’ - the debut feature film from British artist Steve McQueen - it was hard not to be taken aback by such an intimate portrait of human extremes and where it did have its flaws (creeping into artsy pretentiousness), it was a very strong stepping stone to bridge the gap from art to feature film making. His sophomore feature, ‘Shame’ is a much more refined piece of film craft that really shows McQueen is definitely a director to watch out for in the future.

Brandon (Michael Fassbender) is a model citizen of Manhattan. He’s top dog in his job, he’s charming, well dressed and lives in a comfortable, modern flat high up in the city. However, he’s also a sex addict - an addiction he works around in his day-to-day life with calm calculation. But when his younger sister, Sissy (Carey Mulligan), comes for an unexpected (and indefinite) visit, his routine is shattered and he is forced to deal with his addiction.

But to say that this is a film about sex addiction would make it sound like a film that tried to deal with the issues surrounding it: causes, problems and the effect it has on Brandon and those around him. This couldn’t be further from the truth. The causes are only hinted at, the problems it brings aren’t black and white and the effects are not what we would imagine. Not least because Sissy is just as damaged as Brandon. So it’s much more like a portrait of people dealing with their emotional damages and it just so happens that the protagonist we find ourselves with manifests these damages as a sex addiction.

It’s this emotional quality of the film that is the driving force of the story, rather than actual plot. Taking place over the course of a few days, we see slices of Brandon’s life and routine and how once Sissy appears, the utter contrast between the two characters completely disrupts it. They are both complete train wrecks of people who have both developed their own ways of dealing with life. Where Brandon is sophisticated and introverted, Sissy is impulsive and extroverted. But both of them share a traumatic past that is never revealed and all we know is that despite being total opposites, they both share a tragic loneliness. This is most clear during a sequence in which Sissy sings an original, haunting rendition of “New York, New York” at a stylish Manhattan bar. The shots are close and editing is minimal and the emotion is ramped up by the magnificent performances of both actors.

Both Fassbender and Mulligan give the performances of their careers. The lingering shots of Brandon doing very little other than thinking are utterly compelling to watch and to see Mulligan playing the total opposite of her usual quiet, mousy characters is incredibly refreshing. These performances are emphasised by McQueen’s use of the long take, where emotional beats of the script change and the performances change with them. The performances also work in harmony with all visual aspects of the film. Both characters are seen in reflections, shot through glass or we see the backs of them. McQueen places the audience in the position of a voyeur, keeping us visually distant from the characters as they distance themselves from everyone around them in their own ways. It all comes together to produce a film more about crushing isolation than sex addiction.

What really struck me about the film was the audience reaction to when the unflinching and raw sex scenes appeared. There was a lot of awkward laughter, which was intriguing to say the least - the presentation of sex as essentially animalistic seemed to make the audience squirm. Believe me when I say the sex scenes aren’t sexy, not in the traditional Hollywood sense anyway. There isn’t any sweeping emotional music or rich colours with glamorous lighting - it’s just pure fucking.

But the question of the laughter is an intriguing one. Maybe by placing us in a position of voyeurism, McQueen is placing the audience in Brandon’s position when a work colleague discovers his work computer is full of porn - that embarrassment of being caught? Or maybe laughing off the sex scenes is an emotional barrier for the realism involved - we don’t want to admit that we have sex in such an animalistic and unromantic fashion?

Sounds like an essay topic, I’m digressing a little.

But despite the frank and graphic sex scenes, the real emotional plight of the film comes from the parts that made the audience laugh for another reason: seeing two characters having genuinely comic and emotional interactions - little moments showing that both Brandon and Sissy have the potential to engage in an emotional relationship with someone, but their debilitating personalities won’t allow them. That’s what makes this film so ultimately tragic, yet utterly compelling. It’s a weighty film to watch, but if you see any film at the cinema this awards season, make sure it’s this one as it’s worth every single penny you’ll spend on it... 

...just don’t bring your parents or first dates with you.

THE IRON LADY

OK, so I was born in 1988, well into the latter years of Thatcher’s reign and until she left Number 10, I was more concerned with my toys and food than the state of the country. So I’ve never really known much about her politics or what she had done, which actually made walking into this film quite refreshing - I was free from any particular bias towards the woman who is the main subject of the film. However, that was where the refreshment ended as we were propelled into Phyllidia Lloyd’s confused and sentimental biopic about one of the most controversial politicians in this country’s history.

The main base of the story revolves around Thatcher in the present day, going about her day-to-day life. She is a grieving woman growing old and senile, far from the picture that public memory has. From having conversations with her dead husband, she begins to remember times from her formative younger years as a grocer’s daughter to her years as prime minister. We jump back and forth through the narrative as the script (written by Abi Morgan) attempts to contrast the past and the present to reveal Thatcher’s human side, but it only really serves to turn her life into a series of episodes that attempt to define what she stood for.

The biggest problem with the narrative is that as it jumps around, it really doesn’t know what kind of film it wants to be. It’s trying to be an emotional portrait of a woman who no longer has the power she had, it’s a biopic of a divisive public figure, it’s a film about a grieving wife. It deals with themes of power, madness, death, loss, politics, sexism in politics, belief in what is right, belief in one’s self, grief, family, the cost of power and probably a few more that I probably don’t remember. The choice of events to go back to are too varied, pretty much warranting their own feature length film and thus leads the film not only to be rather confused, but it also turns these complex events into ones that are oversimplified and lack any emotional or narrative weight.

I suppose there should be some mention of Meryl Streep’s “please please please give me the Oscar” performance. There, that was it. It doesn’t matter how good her performance is - and there were moments when she was fantastic (but I’ve seen better) - it can’t carry a film that’s as weak as this.

It is nothing but pure Oscar bait, trying its best to please everyone but ultimately, it pleases no one. For the emerging middle class of the 1980’s, who might praise Thatcher for what she did and how she helped the country, the film is a soppy love letter that presents her in a way that totally differs from how they remember her. Then for the working class, who endured and rioted against many of her policies (if they put their political bias aside and actually watch it), its reluctance to engage with the political issues and presentation of them simply as ‘events that happened to her’ could (and probably should) be considered a massive insult.

So as the final frames roll, and Maggie ambles away to carry on with her life, we are left with an empty, blue (the amount of blue in this film is practically insulting, YES WE KNOW SHE WAS A CONSERVATIVE) kitchen and hallway, the camera lingers as the credits begin to roll and the image fades to black. That pretty much sums up the entire film - empty and blue and as confused as the aged Maggie appears to be.

THE ARTIST: REVIEW

Every now and again, a film will come along that dispels the whole “they don’t make them like they used to” belief, but never before have I seen a film that actively enforces it. I mean, many films enforce the belief by being so utterly terrible (just look at last year’s blockbusters), but to see a film that’s deliberately provoking that vintage nostalgia of cinema at its most basic form of storytelling is actually quite refreshing.

Hollywood, 1927. George Valentin is a major star in silent films and at the peak of his career. Outside the premiere of his latest hit, a young aspiring actress - Peppy Miller - waits patiently for an autograph. A chance encounter between the two in the chaotic crowd begins the narrative, charting the rise of Peppy and the fall of George as sound is introduced to cinema and the great depression begins.

This is visual storytelling at its most rich, yet basic. Complex emotions and plot developments are reduced to nothing more than a few simple gestures, dialogue cards (used very sparingly) and visual design. What the director - Michel Hazanavicius - has done here, is create something that appears to be very simple, but in actuality is incredibly complex. The lack of speech has lead every other aspect of the production to do its absolute utmost to convey the emotions, plot points and ideas. Everything here works in harmony to stir emotions in an audience the way that all films should.

Look at this picture as an example. Here, Peppy Miller has snuck into George Valentin’s dressing room to leave a thank you note for an earlier deed he had done to help her. From the initial spark when they first met, we had an inkling of their feelings towards each other, but here we get inside Peppy’s head and what she’s thinking. We see her fantasy and this in turn reveals her feelings for George in an incredibly original way. It’s a brilliant play on vision, being slightly comic, but incredibly intimate. These kind of images perpetuate the film and are what gives it the incredible beauty that it has.

I can’t really talk about this film without mentioning the performance of Jean Dujardin as George, which is one of the most prolific and wonderful performances of the year. Offering charm and charisma, but only as a mask to hide his cynical bitterness and pride. This is a character that is so complex that Hazanavicius’ handling of him is simply masterful. The journey we follow him on is an emotional one, and you really feel for him when he reaches a crisis point, but also laugh when he’s being funny. It’s rare that a character can take you on such highs and lows alone in this way. With a fantastic supporting cast, not one performance takes a bad turn, with John Goodman playing the traditional fat cat in a suit producer, Bénérice Bejo as the young Peppy Miller and James Cromwell as George’s loyal and faithful driver, Clifton. They all have an extraordinary chemistry, which allows you to forgive the incredible typecasting that has taken place.

However, despite the superb direction, incredible cinematography and powerhouse performances, it’s own medium as a silent film is the biggest downfall this film has. Not because it was a bad choice, or because it made it a bad film. It’s because no matter how much publicity or critical praise it gets, no matter how many stars you slap on the posters (believe me, there are a lot), it will not take a lot of money because of the modern mainstream audience’s aversion to anything that doesn’t involve big guns, explosions or fart jokes.

But for me, what is most interesting about The Artist is how relevant it still is today. The main narrative and the sub-plots are all completely universal, and it offers a critique of the industry that it tells the story about. The pride of the old with their reaction to new technology, trying to hold on to their old ways is very allegorical to what is happening today with the rise of digital technology and the industry’s struggle with Internet piracy. But past the struggle between old and new, it ultimately is about how the new can embrace the old and carry it through so that it will last. You can apply it to many industries, but specifically for filmmakers, the new generation my be embracing digital technology for its affordability, but there will always be the utmost respect for celluloid and if the suits let them, they will preserve and look after film as a means of production for decades to come. 

WAR HORSE: REVIEW

When I heard that Steven Spielberg was embarking on a new project, I was sceptical. Having nothing particularly notable to his name since Munich (somewhat underrated), it seemed that he had lost his spark. I need only mention the latest Indiana Jones to send shivers down the spines of anyone that has the slightest hint of good taste in anything.

However, upon hearing he was going to be adapting War Horse - being a colossal success on stage (which in turn was adapted from a children’s novel) - for the big screen, a glimmer of hope appeared. This was Spielberg returning to his classic territory – a story of an unbreakable bond, set in the First World War, between a boy and his horse in a sort of Black Beauty meets Saving Private Ryan affair. Incredibly schmaltzy, but he’s proven he can deal with these themes in an incredibly engaging way (Saving Private Ryan is one of the most shamelessly patriotic, overly romantic, and brilliantly constructed films to come out of Hollywood).

Joey is a horse, bought by a drunken farmer at a livestock auction in Devon, for more money than the poor man can afford. The farmer’s son forms an instant bond with the horse, and the horse pulls its weight around the farm against the odds. World War 1 breaks out and Joey is sold to the army, upon which he embarks on a journey encountering many people and many hardships until eventually, in the depths of the trenches, he is reunited with his original owner – cue the Kleenex.

Drawing from both the original source text, with its story told from the horse’s perspective, and the stage show, with its intensity and incredible visual style, the film becomes confused as to what it wants to do. The film is from the horse’s point of view, focusing on the beast’s power to bring out the best in people. But it also attempts to be violent and intense in a family friendly way. What this leads to is brief encounters with chief characters with which we have no time to empathise with and intense sequences lacking a visceral punch to make it effective.

I can’t say this is true for the entirety of the film though, there are segments where you do see Spielberg’s mastery of this brand of film shine out (2 have stuck in my mind since seeing it), but they are too few and far between to give the film the emotional clout that such a story deserves. The characters are so thinly spread that they become pantomime like tropes in order to make the audience remember who they are and the focus on the boy’s bond to his horse is virtually nonexistent so by the end that you feel the entire first act was a waste of time. There was also a completely schizophrenic cinematic style in the opening that I’m convinced was done entirely to combat the shitty British weather that confused the film as to whether it was trying to be realistic or pure fantasy.

But these are not the weakest points of this film. The biggest shortcoming is the actual horse itself. Where the things they manage to get the horse to do for the film are something quite spectacular, for the entire story to be focussed from his point of view means that we have to find some way to connect with him in the supposed way the characters do. This is pretty hard to do with a live action horse, and where the film could have benefited more from being animated. Allow me to explain; films such as Dumbo or Wall-E – both classic family films – feature protagonists that do not speak. Yet they both manage to carry the entire plot for the film’s duration. Why? Because the animators can control their facial expressions, they can emote. A live action animal cannot convey emotions on cue. If they could, I’m sure we’d be replacing many actors with highly trained chimps (and in the case of Orlando Bloom, I’m surprised they haven’t already). So for a live action film to be from the point of view of an animal just cannot work, as we cannot understand its feelings and thus the film keeps its audience at a considerable distance.

It’s a shame, because as a film, this had great potential. There’s great source material (the stage show blows the film completely out of the water), and you can see the technical prowess of Spielberg at work throughout - from the classic John Williams score that swoops and blossoms in all the right places to the grandiose camerawork depicting a luscious British countryside – but it all falls flat because at the end of it all, it’s just a series of vignettes telling us how incredible the horse is and it’s showing us how emotional we should be without actually invoking any emotions in us by using generic, romanticism in every sequence. Ultimately, it’s just patronising.