Cinema Fool

True Grit

2011-02-19T17:28:00.000Z

Back in 2008 the Coen Brothers scooped up some Oscars in their deserved hands with No Country for Old Men, which gave rise to a pie analogy on these very pages. Good old pies, you can always count on them to help explain a Cormac McCarthy adapted thriller that stretched out tense shoot outs and epic landscapes. Anyway, the Co-Bros are back with another adaptation, this time of True Grit, a Charles Portis novel already made into a film back in 1969 featuring John Wayne. Not being a big Western fan, or alive when it was released, this review can only take True Grit on its own merits and will have to side-step the remake factor.

True Grit is the story of a 14 year-old girl attempting to avenge her father’s murder by hiring a bounty-hunter type person in the shape of a drunk and violent Jeff Bridges. Helped / hindered by a Texas Ranger on the same man’s trail (Matt Damon), the film is a simple adventure story with shoot-outs, long pony rides and some gentle violence along the way. Bridges has been Oscar nominated for his portrayal as the grizzled drunk, and he is an amusing watch, complete with a drawl so thick it’s sometimes too difficult to understand what on earth he’s saying. Matt Damon is a pleasant surprise, almost unrecognisable as the slightly square Texas Ranger, riffing with Bridges and taking a much-needed step away from the rectangular-headed hero role he’s recently cast himself as.

Completing the trio is relative newcomer Hailee Steinfield as 14 year-old Mattie. Steinfield is up for best supporting actress, and rightly so. She plays the unbelievably competent teen with suitable gravitas, but shows enough flecks of fear in her eyes to give her a human edge. Not that it’s particularly easy to accept her as entirely human. Her character reels off Dawson’s Creek-style dialogue, bargaining with adults, tripping through legal terminology and coming across as one of those know-it-all teens that only exist in fiction (because let’s face it, teens know nothing). She verges on being one of those teen heroines doing feats that you’d only see in some early Disney flick, maybe called “Cowgirl!” or something equally jolly. Thankfully the adults around her stop it from falling into that genre, and the incredulity of her character is offset by the likeable lead Steinfield creates.

Overall, True Grit is an enjoyable adventure, with some flashes of suspense, a couple of thrilling shoot-outs and plenty of dark humour. But it doesn’t rise above being a simple Western tale. There is no undercurrent here, nothing extra to savour or ponder, and the ending feels somewhat unsatisfying. No Country was compared to a big pie, while the lighter Burn After Reading got a tasty snack such as a chocolate chip muffin. In my world of food, True Grit would sit as a really nice cheese and tomato sandwich. Fills a hole in a substantial way, but you wouldn’t turn to it if you needed a fully satisfying meal. With the Coens behind it, this is one well-made sandwich. But even the greatest chefs will be constrained by what they chose to put on the menu.

I’m being overly critical, perhaps because of increased expectations from nominations and other reviews. And I would definitely recommend True Grit, with enough enthusiasm to build it to a CF2. But it’s just not the pie I was expecting, and if you go wanting pie and get a sandwich then you leave wanting something a bit more. Some chips maybe. I’ll stop now – I’m hungry.

The Fighter

2011-02-12T18:01:00.001Z

Every time I thought of this film I’d get Christina Aguilera’s song “Fighter” in my head, which puts a strange girl-power perspective on this boxing drama. To make it clear: the song and film are not related, although actually if you read through the lyrics you’d get an internal monologue from The Fighter himself, Micky Ward.

See, Micky takes shadow boxing to the extreme by forever being in his big brother’s shadow. Big Bro, Dicky, was a success until a pesky crack addiction turned him into a twitchy ball of trouble. The Fighter is Micky’s tale of battling with an overbearing family in order to do what he does best: punch other men in the face and kidneys.

So far, so familiar sports-biog (it’s based on a true story), but The Fighter surprises a sports-biog-snob like myself by flinging some depth into the mix. Not just a tale of Micky, but a peak at his brother’s fall from grace, his mother’s misguided love, and the love fraught with conflict from his girlfriend. Director David O. Russell (behind 90’s hit Three Kings) keeps the pace moving with a belting soundtrack, blistering fight scenes and, naturally, some sport-based montages.

But what really impresses is the cast. Christian Bale skinnies up for Dicky, but it’s not just the weight loss that forms his transformation. His jumpy, haggard exterior is a sight to behold, adding warmth and humour where necessary and crafting an awards-deserving performance. Wide-eyed Amy Adams casts aside her sweet and timid typecast and brings believable power and raunch to her role as the girlfriend, creating a role that is more than just “token woman at the ring-side”. And in the middle of it is Mark Wahlberg as Micky. Good old Mark. I’ve a soft spot for his simple face, and his parts in The Departed and The Other Guys have certainly impressed. But though the character requires it, you can’t help but feel he is the lump of melancholic meat overshadowed by a zesty and exciting side dish.

Just as Portman wowed with her dedication to ballet skills and physique for Black Swan (whose director Aronofsky is The Fighter’s producer), so must credit go to Wahlberg and Bale for honing their bodies into boxing machines. The fight scenes are wincingly real, punches connecting with such apparent force that you’ll forget you’re watching a couple of actors and assume it’s a real boxing match. Without any real interest in the sport, I was still wrapped up in the obligatory finale, but because of the additional family element the film satisfies much more than on a basic “yay sport” level.

Though not as intense an experience as Black Swan, The Fighter still impresses with a formidable cast and chunkier-than-expected plot. A family drama with boxing on the side, The Fighter notches up a CF2, and I wouldn’t be surprised if an award or two tags along soon either.

Black Swan

2011-01-24T15:17:00.000Z

Ballerinas? They’re pink and fluffy, or posh and prissy. The big macho “The Fighter” has just come out and that’s got a real sport in it, with actors who have beefed up especially. Let the girls have their silly little dance film. It’ll be a sports-movie for girls. Like Bring it On.

You might be mistaken into thinking the above, particularly if your brain is very small and your name is something like Gray. But The Black Swan is so far removed from both a girls’ “The Fighter”, or any sports-genre flick you can think of. It isn’t one ballerina’s struggle to do the perfect twirly thing (I know nothing of ballet but conceal it well). It’s a dark psychological horror. With dancing. Fun!

Director Darren Aronofsky, doing the whole fighting thing with The Wrestler in 2008, trips back to his trippy roots of Requiem and The Fountain for this piece, bringing surreal and graphic images to screen, twisting reality and tightening the drama. Natalie Portman plays Nina, a perfectionist and a prude, who is cast as the central character in Swan Lake. Nina’s task is to embody two roles – one the delicate white swan (which she is made for) and the other a dark and dangerous black swan. Unfortunately Nina’s attempts to transform into the dark side slowly crumble her mind.

Portman is outstanding, and deserves just as much credit as the fighting boys for her physical work, doing ballet training for a year, dropping 20lbs from her already slender frame and sustaining a rib injury during filming. It all pays off, as she is entirely believable as a ballet dancer, her grace and poise beautiful to watch. She also brings great fragility to the role and mixes it with her disintegrating sanity. Her Oscar nomination is rightly so, and I would applaud a win next month.

Aronofsky’s direction is dizzying at times, cameramen twirling among the dancers and flicking past full-length mirrors in “hang on, how’d he..?” moments. And when things get dark, they get really dark – flashes of horror and explicit violence shock among all the plumage, and the whole film leaves you somewhat shaken. There are a few moments that raise a wry eyebrow. Graphic lady-loving, though adding to the seeping darkness in Nina’s mind, is perhaps a tad unnecessary in places and starts to feel a little exploitative. But in all this is a powerful film, with some striking direction and a fantastic cast.

A tense psychological drama wrapped up in the slender and punishing world of ballet makes for a visually exciting experience. Don’t watch too close to bedtime, and if you had hopes of becoming a world-class ballerina this might just put you off. Black Swan nails a CF3.

127 Hours

2011-01-15T16:25:00.000Z

Let’s face it, a film that involves one man, largely set in a single small location, with a known outcome that isn’t massively pleasant, does not make the most desirable of pitches. But golden boy Danny Boyle, glowing with over-heaped praise for Slumdog, brings the story of one man’s self discovery (hey, that’s what the inside of my arm looks like!) into must-see territory.

You know the story. Man’s arm trapped under rock. 127 long hours later man escapes. Arm does not. But Boyle plays with your expectations and tweaks the tension, creeping towards the bits you’re waiting for with nervous anticipation and throwing a few extras in to make the journey fresh. Though you’re waiting on the big separation, the rest of the 127 hours highlights the other issues poor Aron Ralston has to deal with; hunger, thirst, temperature, a loss of hope.

I say “poor Aron”, but the film doesn’t shy away from the fact that Aron is a cocky, selfish, egotistical little numbskull who thrives off ridiculous thrills and gurns for his camera at any opportunity. One of those people you went to uni with who end up going off round the world on a whim with no real life-plan, and has crazy adventures that they broadcast on a blog while you sit in a drizzly office silently hating the bastard before descending into a sea of self-pity at how uninteresting and pointless your own life is. You know – “one of those”.

Anyway, Aron himself has admitted he was a bit of a knobhead (probably) and James Franco plays it to perfection. Someone you can believably hate but at the same time, once that panic has kicked in as arm meets rock, someone you can sort of care for. There’s plenty of time to think about getting yourself into the same situation and the sheer horror of it all, and more “how far would you go?” questions than you’d probably anticipate.

At a trim 94 minutes this isn’t an epic character study, but Boyle doesn’t need to pad it out. There are some smart explorations into Aron’s psyche (a talk show being a particular highlight) and accepting your fate scenes on a par with the incinerator moment in Toy Story 3 (still haunts me). Though you’d go for the money shots – and they are brutally but stylishly handled – 127 Hours packs a strong emotional punch too. Who knew a film about a guy cutting off his arm could nearly make me cry?

The combination of a raw performance from Franco and Boyle’s typical frenetic direction with a killer soundtrack makes a bold, emotional and squirm-inducing film. Even if arm innards aren’t your cup of tea, it’s still worthy of a watch - you’ll only miss a couple of minutes if you choose to hide your eyes. 127 Hours grips and doesn’t let go, and as such pulls out a CF2.

The Next Three Days

2011-01-10T12:16:00.000Z

For some reason the title of this film stuck in my head as 3 Days Later, so it was with surprise that I found it was not a prequel to the Danny Boyle zombie horror. The Next Three Days is another offering from Paul Haggis, the man who brought Crash to the Oscars back in 2005 (a film reviewed as “Yes, racism, very good. But too polished to be truly affecting” by a very young Cinemafool).

Haggis is better known for his writing, sitting behind Million Dollar Baby and the two Bond re-brands, and given the weighty nature of his portfolio it seems that Three Days is his version of a mini-break. Everyman Russell Crowe has the perfect family – hot wife with a top career and tiny big-eyed child who generally keeps quiet. Perfect. But when wifey (Elizabeth Banks) gets arrested for murder and sent to jail indefinitely, poor old Russell’s world is turned upside down. And, as all beardy college teachers would do, he decides to break his wife out of jail.

Now, this has the potential to be utter faecal matter. Crowe’s character has none of the pre-requisite skills for such an endeavour. So his transformation into jail-breaking superman could stink of, well, poo. But Haggis handles it smartly. Firstly by pumping up the pace to such a degree, you barely get chance to say “hang on…?” Secondly by casting Crowe, whose acting chops lend weight to his character’s emotional stew making him appear human, not a shallow action cut-out. Thirdly, though Haggis bends reality he still clings to it with amusing persistence. How does Crowe learn the majority of his anti-jail skills? Youtube and google of course. A neat trick would have been to have him sit down and watch the first series of Prison Break, but maybe they didn’t have the rights…

Anyway, the pumped pace makes for an exhilarating film, with Crowe building a character you can genuinely care about and Haggis sticking him in situations that you can almost, sort of, believe. Plus he does hi-jinks while driving a Prius, which is always fun to watch. There’s a slight lag mid-way through when clichéd detectives are wheeled out, and the lack of time spent with imprisoned wifey means her no doubt harrowing experience – way worse than hubby out in the real world in his comfy house – is inconsequential as she becomes just a woman waiting to be rescued.

You can’t help but wish for a braver ending to give the film a more dramatic punch, but overall The Next Three Days is a fun and thrilling journey that doesn’t make you roll your eyes. Granted, if you had time to stop and really think about the plot it would no doubt turn out to be utterly unbelievable nonsense. But hats off to Haggis for burying that point in exciting chases. Three Days makes for an entertaining watch, and so gets the recommended CF0.

What happened to 2010...

2011-01-01T14:10:00.000Z

Yeah yeah yeah, no reviews since April, no review of the year. Yada-ya. What are you going to do? Stop paying me? Exactly.

In brief - best film of 2010? Toy Story 3.

I saw others. They were good too.

That's the door shut on 2010. Sorry.

1st April 2010 - Kick Ass

2010-04-09T11:15:00.001Z

Critics are knocking each other over to flout how much they like this film, probably in order to show how cool and in touch with modern culture they are by not being offended at a little girl who swears and kills people. Not like anyone stuffy enough to dislike the film. They’re losers. We’re not. Love us.

Trouble is, the build-up of media Lick-Ass can only end up triggering an “it’s not that good” backlash sooner or later. Which will be a shame as this is a fun film, with the smart premise of a superhero story set in the real world. Average teenage comic-fan Dave Lizewski (Aaron Johnson) buys a crap suit and some sticks, and sets out to be Kick Ass. His only skill is a plucky determination. He gets beaten up quite a lot.

Stealing the show is the kid making all the critics quiver, little Hit Girl (an outstanding Chloe Mortez), the 12 year-old brought up by her bonkers daddy to be a lean, teeny killing machine. Said daddy became the highlight, played by Nicolas Cage channeling Adam West in a crap Batman suit. He is absurdity and hilarity rolled into one, with some gigantic teeth and a silly hair do. There are many componenets here that could create utter dirge along the lines of Daredevil or Batman & Robin, but Kick Ass has the right mix of tongue-in-cheek and seriousness to pull it off.

Nerd comedy (ala Superbad) mixes with uber violence (ala Kill Bill – well, all the films Kill Bill riffs off), with big nods to Raimi’s Spider-man and comic book name-checks sprinkled throughout. Superhero conventions are played to, then deliberately broken, leaving you with a fresh feeling of not really knowing what’s going to happen next. A slice of real darkness adds jeaopardy to the proceedings, and Mark Strong brings a fun villain in the form of a mob boss, with a wimpy son played by Christopher Mintz-Plasse (no doubt now type-cast as McLovin’ for the rest of his career).

But Kick Ass sometimes has a whiff of familiarity, be it through the soundtrack (an odd choice to reuse a 28 Days Later track for a blistering fight scene, making it feel more wannabe than fresh newcomer), the uber violent school girl (Gogo Yubari wearing the same tartan skirt in Kill Bill) or the general nods to the superhero franchises that have already dominated our screens, some pretty damn successfully. Whether they’re deliberate or not, these feelings of de ja vu hamper the film’s efforts to find a unique voice. It’s a shame the spirit of originality doesn’t cover all bases.

Still, Kick Ass is a lively, surprising, funny and enjoyable film - a welcome breath of fun after the seriousness of Watchmen and Dark Knight. Whether the freshness will last for a sequel (no doubt in the works) is another story. Nic Cage makes this film worth the watch, Chloe Mortez a close second for dazzling confidence. Kick Ass scores a CF2, kicking 2010 ass with the highest score so far.

The 2010 catch up

2010-04-09T11:12:00.001Z

Ok, Ok. My head is hung in shame at the actions so far of 2010. Mainly because there have been no actions. We’re on week 14 and I’ve only seen 7 films. That’s 50% effort, and what’s worse I haven’t even posted reviews. Just think of the dozens of people out there with no Cinemafool guidance, stumbling into films with no idea of their CF rating. The pressure of such responsbility is almost too much to bear. But give me some slack, Cinemafool has existed for 4 years now. I needed a break.

Break over.

Ok, 5 of those 7 pesky films shall be summed up for your perusal in a series of minifools, mainly because I saw them so long ago my aged brain can't remember enough detail to fill a review. Here they are:

Sherlock Holmes

As I’ve already said: RDJ is predictably enjoyable playing himself with an English accent, the direction is predictably Ritchie with a lot more money. Film is fun, got a bit sleepy in the middle, and not quite the excitement the trailers promised. Ok, though. Just Ok.

Can’t say much more than that, really. CF0.

The Road

A heart-warming family drama....

Putting the “eak” in “bleak”, this takes Cormac McCarthy’s post apocalyptic tale of grim survival and transfers it to screen in all its distressing glory. Viggo Mortenson is obviously brilliant, and the only side-steps from the book are almost gratefully received, as to stick too closely to the details would no doubt elicit mass suicide. Not exactly a breeze to watch, but gripping, moving and everything it means to be. CF1, and no higher only because it loses the rewatch factor due to being crushingly horrible to absorb.

Solomon Kane

What could have been a snowy swordy epic is more of a damp rag as James Purefoy mooches around behind floppy hair, rarely takes off his clothes and signs up to a no-violence lifestyle after the devil tries to claim his soul. When the gloves do come off (“I will not fight you, I... oh Ok, hi-ya!”) the heads come off too and there are some fun slice and dice moments. But clunky editing and taking itself too seriously hamper any chance of overcoming the sizeable problems of trying to do sword fights and mystic monster stuff when numerous films have already done it much much better. A disappointing CF-1.

Alice in Wonderland

Like Blackpool illuminations, the magic of what appears to be a visual feast is quickly quashed once you peer past the distracting lights and see it for what it really is. Burton delivers another spectacle that deserves praise for style and technique, but flops at the important stuff like depth or heart. Depp’s flamboyance is fun, but expected. Despite all the giant heads and talking mice, Burton manages to do nothing surprising with the material. And the addition of 3D adds another headache in what is becoming quite an irritating new trend. Points for visuals only, this sits at a CF0.

Green Zone

Greengrass and Damon put Bourne into Iraq, marching around after those illustrious WMDs and generally causing trouble. Except, it’s not really Bourne of course, just a looky-likey and figurehead for a statement film. Damon is solid but a bit inconsequential, the action is fast and furious and the plot is worryingly plausible. Some exciting chases aside, the fact I can’t remember much more about the film suggests its impact is somewhat insubstantial. As such, Green Zone gets CF0.

2nd Jan 2010 - Sherlock Holmes

2010-01-02T18:20:00.001Z

Minifool

RDJ is predictably enjoyable playing himself with an English accent, the direction is predictably Ritchie with a lot more money. Film is fun, got a bit sleepy in the middle, and not quite the excitement the trailers promised. Ok, though. Just Ok.

Introducing Minifool

2010-01-02T17:17:00.000Z

Last year there was an unacceptable delay between watching a film and posting a review. I admit it. This year there might still be such a delay, but at least there now will be Minifool, your quick paragraph review to keep you going until the real thing comes along.

I don't think it needs any more explanation than that. If you think it does, you're obviously too stupid to be reading this site, and you should probably leave now.

Thanks

The Cinemafool review of 2009

2010-01-01T17:56:00.001Z

First, an apology. Cinemafool has been running now for three years and always prides itself on seeing a new film at the cinema pretty much every week, then delivering a stunning review. Recently, due to personal movements (not bowel), it has become more difficult for Cinemafool to visit the cinema as often as desired. And so the year has seen a shocking lack of new films at the cinema – only 40 - and an even more shocking delay for reviews. For this poor performance I can only apologise. But what are you going to do? How about pay me and I’ll make more of an effort. Otherwise you’ll just have to make do with what you get.

Anyway, 2009 has been a year. Indeed. And the best way to celebrate that year is by the now famous Cinemafool review. First up, the anticipated top ten of 2009. Here they are, in chronological order:

Top Ten

1. Doubt

Rating: CF2

What: Fiddler or no fiddler? Priest vs Nuns. A couple of alternative titles also summing up the film.

I said then: a fully enjoyable film, with superb performances and a simple yet completely effective plot.

I say now: Big weighty paedo films never come so entertaining. Way more enjoyable than you’d at first think, Doubt is a rare stage-to-screen adap that works.

I also said: an altar boy’s holy vestibule.

2. Watchmen

Rating: CF3

What: “The best graphic novel ever” made into “the best graphic novel film adaptation ever”.

I said then: a mature and complex plot, twisted and intriguing characters, wowing visual punch and a kick-ass soundtrack

I say now: Proving there is still life in the stylised comic book genre, this was both mature and oh so very cool.

I also said: a big glowing blue-man’s schlong

3. Religulous

Rating: CF3

What: Bill Maher tackles the insanity of religion in a compelling documentary.

I said then: makes you wish this film was made available to a wider audience rather than a small cinema screen full of guffawing pretentioles like me.

I say now: as the athiests start to gather forces in billboard, buses and books, this is the documentary that is both oh so very relevant, but also very, very amusing.

I also said: interviewing mentals for laughs

4. Let the Right One In

Rating: CF3

What: Children, vampires, Sweden. What more do you need?

I said then: captivating, beautiful and slightly disconcerting.

I say now: An icy overcoat covering a warm heart, this is a welcome take on the now overblown Vampire genre.

I also said: how I imagine Angel rip-off Twilight to be, if the characters were 12 year old Swedish kids

5. In the Loop

Rating: CF2

What: Armando Iannucci’s cutting tv show turned to the big screen, joined by American friends.

I said then: In the Loop is a proud example of Britain’s writing talent, and a withering reminder of how crap politics can be

I say now: The dialogue is so swift and so delicious you’ll need to see this more than once just to gather all the barbs. Ace stuff.

I also said: the best angry-breathing ever.

6. Star Trek

Rating: CF3

What: A genre that’s usually partly ace and partly tosh, given a J J Abrams makeover.

I said then: Abrams blasts the Trek into the realms of the popular, making a show that many shy away from or turn their noses up at into something any uninitiated Trekster can actually enjoy.

I say now: Something for the fans and a fun trip for everyone else, Abrams proved there was still a lot of life in the Trek.

I also said: A bit like the Jonas Brothers.

7. Moon

Rating: CF3

What: Bowie Junior directs a sci-fi indie, pretty much a one-man show too. Sort of.

I said then: a charming little film, beautifully handled by Jones and superbly acted by Rockwell.

I say now: If you’ve still not seen this, avoid other reviews that spoil the plot and check it out. The understated sci-fi sister to boisterous Star Trek.

I also said: Cinemafool reviews are more considerate and, let’s face it, better.

8. Mesrine: parts 1 & 2

Rating: CF2 & CF1

What: A bit of a cheat to squish two films into one spot, but this French biog of a criminal superstar comes as a pair, and I couldn’t leave one out. It’d get jealous.

I said then: a lengthy study of a fascinating character… an absorbing, thrilling piece, made brilliant by Cassell’s performance

I say now: Vincent Cassell wows as uber crim Mesrine – stick this with your Goodfellas and Godfather collection.

I also said: autoglass would make a killing with the number of back windows shot out.

9. District 9

Rating: CF2

What: The sleeper hit that smashed the charts despite coming from a first-time director featuring unknown cast. Aliens penned into shanty towns in South Africa are given a crap deal by the government. Huh..

I said then: a sort of buddy-movie, mixed with Tsotsi, the alien-in-bar scenes from Star Wars, some first person shoot-em-up games and transformers.

I say now: The mix of traditional film with documentary and CCTV footage drags aliens into reality, and makes this an original little classic.

I also said: Fooking hell

10. Up

Rating: CF4

What: Pixar brings old man in a flying house via lots of balloons.

I said then: Funny, exciting, heart-warming – just beautifully enjoyable

I say now: The plot sounds stuffy and silly, but the film is both emotinally devastating and childishly silly, making it one of the most enjoyable of the year, and also the highest rated in 2009.

I also said: All they do is shuffle and pee

2009 – The Losers

Fewer films mean fewer miss-steps, but there were still a few stinkers to be found in front of Cinemafool’s eyes in 2009. Some are not necessarily bad films, but they either disappointed, befuddled or simply angered.

Bride Wars

Rating: CF-1

I said: “A plot so thinly constructed a five-year-old could predict what was going to happen (well, maybe not just any five-year-old, but perhaps myself at five, although I was unnaturally clever at that age of course).”

Synecdoche New York

Rating: CF0

I said: “I spent the last two hours watching something weird and meaningless. And if I wanted to do that I’d just watch Inland Empire again.”

“Like a jigsaw puzzle featuring baked beans – the only puzzle my mother has ever given up in her illustrious jigsaw career – there is being tricky enough to test you but cause enjoyment, and being so tricky that it just ends up left in pieces on the table.”

Public Enemies

Rating: CF-1

I said: “You’ve blown up the balloon to its maximum capacity and you’re about to release it, ready to be thrilled as it zooms across the room in a zigzag of fun chaos, complete with silly noises. Alas this was more like those times when you fumble the release and end up with a sputtering disappointment and some spittle in your face.”

Turkey of the year

Only one film stands out as truly shite this year, and it was its insistence of posing as something serious and decent that helped to land it this title, previously shared by Indiana Jones 4, Ocean’s Thirteen, and Pirates of the Caribbean Two, which I hear is now forcing out a fourth instalment like the big, festering turd it will most likely be.

Anyway, this year’s Turkey is:

The International

Rating: CF-2

I said: “it spiralled into a sea of who-cares, launching characters in willy nilly and churning the plot into indecipherable mulsh.”

“It is a mix of the talky bits in Bond that act as fillers between the fight scenes, and the bits in Bourne where they show shots of different European cities. The rest of the mix is filled with shit.”

End on a high

It wasn’t all crap, of course. The Oscar season brought out some pretty enjoyable stuff (Changeling, Slumdog), documentaries shone (Anvil), there was another good zombie comedy (Zombieland) and I got to see Hugh Jackman and Jason Statham on the big screen again, often with few clothes on (Wolverine, Crank 2).

Who knows how many films will be seen in 2010, and who knows if any will ever make a CF5 rating. There is, obviously, a pre-emptive CF-5 for Pirates 4. Can any film be worse? Let’s hope not. See you next year.

31st Dec 09 - Avatar

2009-12-31T17:51:00.002Z

A few weeks ago I vented my stuffy air about not liking this new 3D technology in the cinema. And then this week there I sat with a pair of 3D specs, like a big hypocrite, waiting to see just what James Cameron has been up to for the last ten years and what all the fuss is about his new film Avatar. He’s trumpeted about the groundbreaking 3D technology so much I assumed it must be worth a go. And so I “oo-ed” and “ah-ed” as the screen leapt into life in front of me, depth added to landscapes and things flying out of the screen into my face. What isn’t advertised is the headaches, blurred vision and general annoyance as your brain attempts to adjust to the specs, my pathetic short-sighted handicap meaning I had the added problem of wearing 3D specs on top of normal specs, which when not properly lined up created a dizzying blurred 3D mess. I’m not making sweeping statements here, but James Cameron is obviously prejudiced against people who wear glasses.

Anyway, as well as 3D technology, Cameron has followed his passion for pushing the boundaries of effects. The Abyss saw the first computer generated silver wormy thing, Terminator 2 unleashed stunning effects on the T1000, subsequently used in Alex Mack (there’s progress for you), and Titanic brought in lots of little CGI people falling to their deaths. In Avatar, 60% of the film is computer generated using motion capture and photo-realistic technology. It does look pretty ace. The aliens – Navi – move and emote so smoothly that you begin to see them as just another set of actors, lead female Neytiri (voiced and motion captured by Star Trek’s Zoe Saldana) being the strongest and most enjoyable to watch. The landscapes are sometimes breathtakingly beautiful, and the critters are odd and deftly constructed. It all looks pretty damn good, really.

But here I am reviewing a film and not yet have I actually mentioned the film itself. For all the fancy visuals and teccy gizmos, a film has to stand on its own merits too. And Avatar… well, Cameron may have spent ten years on the effects, but he appears to have spent about ten minutes on the story. Namely, he watched Disney’s Pocahontas, then watched a BBC Wildlife documentary while inhaling sherbet. Bish bash bosh, there’s your story. The Navi are giant blue creatures with tails and weird tentacles that come out of their hair. But they also talk in African accents, have dreadlocks, a “chief” who wears feathers around his shoulders, a “witch-doctor” type person who has bones and stuff, and are “at one” with the earth and all the forest creatures. Take such blatant clichés, and the laziness increases when you add in more cooker-cutter human characters – the lanky geeky tech guy, the noble scientist, the corrupt company man after money, the insane army man after blood, and Michelle Rodriguez (seriously, does she turn up to all film and TV sets and bring her own costume – “it’s alright guys, I’ll just use the one from last time”.) Here’s an idea - sod the fancy 3D, try getting your characters’ dimensions up to two first.

Despite the transparent plot, Avatar manages to kick into enjoyment mode when the fighting begins. There is definitely excitement to be had by watching dragons attack helicopters in 3D and perfect graphics. Leads Sam Worthington (dim muscle with a cheeky grin) and Zoe Saldana are reasonably charming, and Cameron’s trademark penchant for having strong female leads is still apparent, and most welcome. The 3D works in places, adding depth to cockpits and landscapes, but hinders or distracts in others. The effects are breathtaking. But wrap up a bootleg copy of Pocahontas in pretty paper and it’s still a crappy copy underneath. Avatar is enjoyable, no doubt helping the film universe make further strides into jaw-dropping effects, but failing at the basics like plot and character. It’s fun but nothing more, and so ends the year with a CF0.

18th Nov 09 - 2012

2009-11-24T11:37:00.001Z

I wasn’t there, but this is how I imagine the conversation went between Roland Emmerich (“RE”), and Roland Emmerich’s subconscious film-making mind (“SC”), when trying to decide on whether to make 2012:

RE: I quite fancy a period drama next.
SC: I think you should destroy the world again.
RE: Oh… all right then.

And so 2012 was born. Though he was cajoled into it, Emmerich seems to have decided that if he is going to destroy the world again (he really hates the world – see Independence Day and the Day After Tomorrow) he’s going to do it so much that there can no longer be another disaster film. It’s like everyone’s had a go at folding down a cardboard box to shove it in the bin, all with varying degrees of success, but Emmerich has stomped in, doused the box in petrol and set it alight. No one can even attempt to have a go now. The box is gone.

Well it’s sort of like that.

Anyway, the key ingredients to this sort of disaster flick are all there – an everyman trying to save his family (John Cusack), some hot British scientists on hand when explanations are needed, an American president (randomly being Danny Glover), a crazy man (Woody Harrelson), a scattering of token “foreign” people (it is the whole entire world that’s going bust this time after all), and a cute doggy. The action, when it kicks in, is giggle-inducing fun. Cusack driving away from a collapsing planet is probably the best action sequence you’ll see this year, and shot in such a way that it would be a crime not to convert it into some sort of simulator/3-D/coaster experience in Florida. The pure scale of everything is awesome, and you can almost feel Emmerich chuckling behind the camera as he smushes buildings, sticks two fingers to religion, and just generally causes chaos. Great fun.

Great fun for about 40 minutes, that is. Trouble is, 2012 is 158 minutes long. The usual padding – slow build up to mass destruction – is forgivable and necessary for the genre, but post-destruction events take a dull turn as the surviving humans board their getaway ships (and that’s sea-ship, not space-ship) and everything goes a bit Titanic. We’ve just seen the entire earth destroyed – some water in a cabin is suddenly a million times less interesting.

You then add in the typical problems with this sort of thing – our hero always managing to be on the brink of every new moment of chaos and managing to just avoid everything over and over again, the usual American way of saving the American world with occasional glances at how the rest of the planet is doing – oh yes, there goes another country, ah well – before back to who’s really important, and Cusack looks too bored with the role, his trademark sardonic pout clashing with the CGI pandemonium around him. Once you’ve added all that, 2012 starts to look a bit crap, really.

The highlights – uber destruction like you’ve never seen – are thrilling, fun and quite superb. It’s a pity this beast has become a bit too bloated, the airy pockets smothering the juicy good centre into a passable way to spend several hours. Go for DVD, skip to the mid 40 minutes, then discard. For the best scenes, 2012 gets a CF2. But the score is diluted to a disappointing CF-1. I’ll still be making friends with a pilot though, just in case…

11th Nov 09 - Up

2009-11-11T11:37:00.001Z

Call me old fashioned, but I just don’t get this new fangled 3-D obsession in cinema nowadays. If I wanted things appearing to poke me in the face then I’d attach a pen to a spinning bicycle wheel and sit a few centimetres away from it with my eyes taped open. And I’m obviously not going to do that.

As a short-sighted glasses wearer I don’t need to wear an extra pair of specs on top, with a fuzzy bit at the top of my vision which neither glasses cover. Therefore in defiance of the future of cinema, I strode into a 2-D version of Up. And it just goes to show that 3-D is unnecessary, because even without the fancy gizmos, Up is simply marvellous.

With a plot obviously written while on magic mushrooms, Up is a joyous blend of childlike silliness and adult heart-wrenching sadness. The opening ten minutes managed to reduce me to tears with a montage, echoing Wall-E’s amazing knack of conveying deep emotion without using any dialogue. It features the crushingly cruel truth of the outcome to any long-term love, and deals with it in such a beautiful, mature manner that you’d be forgiven for thinking it wasn’t a child’s film at all. And then the balloons come out.

Anyone miffed by the sudden change in tone from cold hard truth to vibrant sugar-fuelled insanity should be branded an idiot fool – and I mean literally branded. On the forehead. A film about a man who attaches balloons to his house and flies away – an inescapable point given all posters feature a picture of said event – must surely hint that the plot is far removed from the realms of the possible. Just how far it takes you into crazy territory is surprising, but if you’re going along for the ride it becomes not only hugely enjoyable, but also absolutely hilarious and thrilling too.

Picking an old dude for the main character seems a bit of a stuffy move for Pixar – who the hell wants to watch old people in films anyway? All they do is shuffle and pee. But Pixar win again, because not only is it original to feature a geriatric hero, they also accomplish two genius things – one, an OAP fight scene that’s just gold, and two, the idea of small children coming out of this film and never seeing their Granddad in the same light again.

Never one to disappoint, Pixar have done it again with an original gem, scoring points for tackling such deep emotional issues and mixing them with some old fashioned childish nonsense. Funny, exciting, heart-warming – just beautifully enjoyable, Up storms up the CF point scale to reach the dizzying heights of a CF4. Highest scorer of the year? Cor blimey I believe it is. Up yours!

24th Oct 09 - Zombieland

2009-10-24T11:36:00.001Z

Zombies are probably the second most popular dead things right now (second to vampires, overly exposed by Twi-shite, which I only hate because I’ve realised I’m now too old to understand the hype, and it’s an emo’s version of the superior Buffy).

After Shaun brought the hee hee to Zombhee, it was only a matter of time before Hollywood decided to step up to the play. And so we have Zombieland, a Zom-com set in a post-apocalypse world, where the zombies are fast and the survivors are few. Our narrator is Jesse Eisenberg, a white-fro nerd whose survival depends on cowardly but smart rules. He teams up with Woody Harrelson, a gun-toting lunatic with a knack for killing zombies. Life gets even more interesting when they stumble upon sisters Emma Stone (sultry, super and one to keep an eye on) and Abigail Breslin (the little one from Little Miss Sunshine).

The opening credits help to set the tone, with slow-mo gore spewed into camera lens set to heavy metal. Awesome stuff. The rest of the film doesn’t disappoint, with a heady mix of zombie chaos (what would happen if you fought zombies with fairground rides?) and American nerd jokes. Granted it lacks the more subtle, shall we say “British” humour of Shaun – this is certainly more wham-bam, in your face silliness. But being less than 90 minutes long means this is a flash of entertainment, fast-paced, thrilling and with the best use of a cameo for years (I won’t spoil it).

The cast are strong, Harrelson having a whale of a time as a redneck hero, while “the kids” hold their own, Eisenberg impossible not to compare to Michael Cera (even though I know he hates it) and the girls not just the token totty, although despite all the end of the world stuff they do manage to apply the makeup and keep the hair smoking hot.

With the strong duo of Z-Land and Shaun, there’s little scope for any more Zom-coms that could be successful, or more accurately, original (for we all know that the unoriginal shit-pile can still become successful due to the inherent stupidity of the majority of the human race). Zombieland proves there was still life in the undead and injects fresh life and fun into the genre, and for that it lopes in with a CF2. Dead funny. Ho ho.

10th Oct 09 - District 9

2009-10-10T11:35:00.001Z

As Sting once wisely said: I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien. I’m an Englishman in New York.

What he could have said was: I’m an alien. I’m an illegal alien. I’m an insect-like thing in a shanty town in South Africa. Granted it’s not as catchy, but it does sum up District 9 quite nicely.

Sneaking up on the box office like a little sneaky alien, District 9 somehow blasted its way to the top of the charts, despite coming from a first-time director and featuring an unknown cast. Of course the fact that it’s good should mean it nabs a high place on the box office, but Joe Public aren’t always smart enough to flock to the best film, instead getting confused by bright piles of poo with a picture of the Wayan brothers pinned to it.

Newcomer Neill Blomkamp was down to direct the Halo adaptation, but after it was canned, producer Peter Jackson gave him a wad of money to make something else instead. Blomkamp drew on his childhood in South Africa to cleverly meld the real into the alien, having the outerspace visitors –“Prawns” – treated as lower class folk and relegated to live in shanty towns. By drawing on documentary and CCTV style footage, Blomkamp adds an extra dimension of realism to the familiar alien format. CGI aliens meld perfectly with the real world, with two singled out as our “hero” prawns who team up with a hapless government dude due to circumstances I won’t go into to avoid spoiling the gruesome surprises.

What you get is a sort of buddy-movie, mixed with Tsotsi, the alien-in-bar scenes from Star Wars, some first person shoot-em-up games and transformers. All sort of familiar, but done in such a neat way it’s simply marvellous. With no big-name stars it’s difficult to tell where the story will lead you, and there is a gritty and explosive streak of violence that will have you “ewwing” and “wooing” in equal measures. There’s also a lot of use of the excellent swear word “fook”, which you’ll be saying for days after seeing this film.

Unfortunately the film falters towards the end when it attempts to big-up the action and brings in some unnecessary transformer-eqsue action, diluting the smaller, indie feel to the flick. But still, this is a smart take on the alien genre, the docu-style bringing an element of realism to pixels such that you’ll really care what happens to them. Worthy of its box-office success, District 9 plumps up the points and scores a CF2. Fooking hell.

26th September 09 - Funny People

2009-09-26T13:46:00.001Z

It’s called Funny People. It’s written and directed by funny people. It stars actors considered to be funny people. They play characters whose careers revolve around being funny people. Is the fact the film isn’t that funny down to an ironic title, or because they spent so long smugly thinking they were funny, they forgot to add any comedy to the script?

Let’s take the foot off the abuse accelerator for just one second and start with the positives though. Funny People features a solid cast full of likeable folk, and smart piece of casting with Adam Sandler as a well established comedian slightly twisted and delusional from his world, and Seth Rogen as a newcomer to the comedy scene. See what they did there? Yeah, it’s clever isn’t it. Or akin to having Julia Roberts disguise herself as Julia Roberts in suck-fest Ocean’s Twelve. Not sure.

Anyway, when Sandler finds out he has a life-threatening disease everything goes to pot, he questions his own life, tries to win back his lost love and employs young Rogen to be his gopher. That’s pretty much the plot, but sprinkled with snippets of stand-up routines and some smaller sub-plots. Choosing to drag 146 minutes out of the idea is an interesting decision. Or, as we in the film reviewing business call it – a mistake.

The film suffers due to two main problems – structure and character. Structure, because the plot rambles around on a directionless arc, stretched out by improvised scenes that lose the funny half way through. Character, because Sandler paints such a dislikeable figure that your empathy is totally dissolved, you don’t care if he succeeds in his mission of stealing back his love and you find very little to root for. Rogen is the usual – good, but starting to get familiar.

What’s extra strange is the incredibly sombre tone throughout the film. The main comedy comes through the stand-up routines each comedian shows, some of which are very funny, others are lost a little on a non-American audience. The rest of the film is at times actually quite depressing. With the odd structure and unexpected plot corners, this comes out as not just another Judd Apatow solid comedy nugget, but as a weird comedy/drama hybrid. Not a bad thing to mix the genres. Just odd to behold when expecting something else, and when it goes on for a wee bit too long.

The abuse accelerator got pressed again didn’t it? Well there are things to enjoy too. Leslie Mann is very likeable, there’s some fabulous dry humour from Jonah Hill and Jason Schwartzman, and some amusing cameos from a variety of celebrities including a very surreal exchange between Eminem and Ray Romano. Plus it’s refreshing to see some family-based drama erupting from the Apatow cannon instead of porn jokes.

In short: Funny People is a quite funny, but also a quite morose and soul-searching look at the world of comedians, or just basic humans who make certain life choices. It’s too long and needs tighter control of the pace and structure, but a brave move to turn out a dramatic comedy as opposed to another Superbad. Funny People gets a standard CF0, but only if you change your expectations. And make sure you go to the loo beforehand.

29th August 09 - Mesrine: Public Enemy No1

2009-08-29T20:05:00.002Z

Taking off from where part one finished, Mesrine Public Enemy No 1 surpasses its recent Hollywood namesake (Mann’s Public Enemies, rated a poor CF-1 back in July). Our Mesrine is now a fully fledged criminal, but media-savvy and image conscious. Still robbing banks and escaping prison in style, this is a fatter, hairier Mesrine. A cheeky chappy, a charmer, wooing woman and the jury, just with a bigger belly.

The second part takes a different tone to the first, ditching the Goodfellas life story/relationship plod and going straight for the heist jugular, with some frantic shoot-outs. Seriously, autoglass would make a killing with the number of back windows shot out. Mesrine himself is like the French John Dillinger, or Mark Brandon “Chopper” Read (last week’s Eric Bana in a performance to be savoured). A criminal whose delusions of grandeur begin to make him more than just a robber. Mesrine, so annoying with lack of publicity during one prison stint, wrote his own autobiography, which then became the basis for the first of these two films.

Cassell is once again awesome. He piled on the pounds to shoot this part first, before downsizing to play the younger Mesrine in part one (they filmed events in reverse chronological order – clever, see) so this is essentially the first time he’s tackled this character. Only prejudice against subtitles will stop you from enjoying this performance. A childish, overblown, naïve and sly concoction, making a dangerous but almost lovable villain. Violence is sparingly shown, but when it hits it packs a wincing punch, particularly during Mesrine’s attack on a silly journalist.

The ending is built with skilful tension by Director Jean-Francois Richet. Though you know precisely what’s to come from watching part one, there is still an unnerving build up to Mesrine’s eventual bow-out, with a particular sadness about the doggy…

As a duo, Mesrine is a lengthy study of a fascinating character, who could easily have popped up in any Scorsese epic. His life is certainly diverse enough to warrant two films, although maybe could have summarised various heists into a handy montage. Part one felt more of a coming of age story, compared to part two as a straight up heist/downfall pic, the two cramming in every major French actor known to all us non-French folk. Though some scenes may feel familiar to anyone who’s seen an organised crime/criminal based film, Mesrine is still an absorbing, thrilling piece, made brilliant by Cassell’s performance. Mesrine: Public Enemy No 1 scores a CF1, a point lower than the former film probably due to increased expectations. Still, a worthy duo well worth a watch.

26th August 09 - The Time Traveler's Wife

2009-08-27T19:40:00.000Z

You won’t catch me willingly watching a “romance” film very often. Particularly one whose trailer featured soft lighting and a seemingly pobby plot. But Time Traveler’s Wife (TTW) happens to be a fabulous book. A traditional romance with a sci-fi twist, shades of darkness bold enough to provoke tears even when reading, and characters who are fully developed. It is a genius concept – a man who involuntarily time travels throughout his life, with resulting interactions with his wife throughout hers. An idea too genius to miss in film world. But can Mr film world match the book?

Well, it’s the age old problem – how do you match all the intricacies of a full blown novel with a 120 minute piece of film? The answer is mostly: you can’t. Very few films come close to accomplishing such feats, but that doesn’t mean you can’t create a great film in the process. The film has solid foundations on which to settle, tackling a tricky criss-cross time structure with a smart, simplified, streamlined approach. Anything else would have confused the average cinema pleb.

Eric Bana takes the lead as the time traveller, dashing but quiet, somewhat understated but encapsulating my idea of Henry from the book. Rachel McAdams is “the wife” Claire, suitably sassy and doe-eyed but a tad skeletal for my liking. The crux of the story is there, certainly with enough oomph to build emotions that instil weird leaking eye effects. Not sure what that’s all about. And the pitfalls and complexities of Henry’s time travel add a meaty layer to an otherwise basic love story.

But – and of course there’s a but – the film only served as a reminder of how good the book is. Fleeting scenes spark memories of whole chapters, incidents lightly touched upon remind you of much grander events. The leaky eye effect only triggers with the knowledge of what’s to come. Without such a solid book behind it, is this film really worth much?

The major trouble is, though this is a good adaptation, the book is so deep and complex, anything but feels somewhat lacking. In particular the choice to avoid certain areas – Claire’s entire family backstory, making her another atypical Hollywood woman whose only function is to see how many vertebrae she can show in the obligatory post-sex shot (go on – count them!), and a rather major medical consequence is missed out, which sparked the start of the general feeling of doom that clouds the last part of the book. Without these, the film begins to feel like a diluted version of the book. A diet novel. A novel-zero. Tastes like the real thing, but ultimately is a shitter version.

My non-novel reader informants tell me the film is still enjoyable without the novel background, but my novel-reader comrade concurs that though the film is reasonable, there is still a feeling of disappointment, particularly considering the film avoids the cinematic and beautiful ending.

So, a difficult one to grade. On the one hand, a unique take on the romance genre, dragging it into complex time travel paradoxes and no doubt boggling the minds of the usual audience for romance trite. On the other this is a cop-out adaptation of a dark book, side-stepping any unpleasantries for a smooth-ish ride. Was the enjoyment and emotion purely an echo of memories from reading the novel, rather than the film itself? Not sure. But despite the disappointment, it was already obvious that a film couldn’t match the book and needed to stand on its own. As such, TTW gets a recommendation for being something different for non-readers, and an extra point for grasping some aspect of what made the book so good. But it can’t climb any higher. The novel itself? CF4. The film: CF1

22nd August 09 - Inglorious Basterds

2009-08-27T15:52:00.001Z

Let’s face it. After Pulp Fiction, Tarantino’s work has slowly declined in popularity and quality. It was only natural, given the extent of Reservoir’s impact and Pulp’s cult status. Hit a career high first and you’ve only got a downwards slump ever after (unless you have time out and do a come-back). But despite this, his name is still big enough that most people - even the dim-witted general public - refer to Inglorious Basterds as “the new Tarantino one”, a feat that is rarely accomplished by directors, no matter how great they may be.

Inglorious has been floating round the Tarantino ideas pile for a while, even before he started Kill Bill, though it was weird to think of him producing a typical WW2 flick. Good job he hasn’t then. Inglorious is simply Tarantino does the 1940s, with some pre-drawn Hilter-shaped characters thrown in. The setting may be different, but we still have multiple plots, a chapter structure, smooth talking cool dudes, graphic violence and coincidences bringing everything together.

The multiple plots cover a girl with a grudge (a pretty deserved grudge really), a team of American Jews on a mission to kill Nazis (the Inglorious Basterds), and a handful of players from all sides. Brad Pitt’s lead Basterd is a drawling eccentric, a walk-in-the-park for Pitt whose presence doesn’t add the same as, say, Willis, Travlota and Sammy L did in the past. But it’s the non-Americans who steal the show. French actress Melanie Laurent plays grudge girl with finesse and is immediately likeable. And the prize for smooth talking cool dude goes to Austrian born Christoph Waltz, who plays the chief Jew-hunter (to put it bluntly) and emits such smooth intelligence and icy danger it’s both captivating and terrifying to watch.

Tarantino certainly knows how to create tension, each chapter building finger twisting apprehension before exploding into another bout of ultra-violent chaos. You will care how things turn out, and as it’s Tarantino there are of course some surprises on the way.

But the film isn’t quite as clever as it tries to appear, the plots not smartly intertwined, more occasionally crossing. The Basterds themselves feel somewhat superfluous and at times a little bit silly (the introduction of Eli Roth – director of Hostel – is a build up to an “errr..?” moment). There are probably hundreds of clever references to films that only Tarantino has seen, and of course references to his own films, reinforcing my belief that sooner or later he will remake one of his own, sparking an endless circle of remakes of the same film, by the same person, with increasing numbers of in-jokes, until a reality vortex is created that will destroy the world. That’s just my theory, anyway.

Basterds isn’t the huge career come-back that will put Tarantino back on his once held cult-King podium, but it is a well crafted, well acted thriller with some savage black comedy thrown in. A point just for Christoph Waltz’s performance, Inglorious Basterds gets a CF1.

12th August 09 - Mesrine: Killer Instinct

2009-08-19T14:39:00.001Z

Dubbed “the French Scarface”, Mesrine is the true story of a notorious French chappy, famed for bank robbing, kidnapping, prison breaks and being public enemy number one. Split across two films, the first, “Killer Instinct”, features life before the esteemed title of Public Enemy, and focuses on Mesrine’s back story. He’s a right charmer, following a stint in the army to woo ladies, make money on the side, and slowly seep into a life of organised crime with a few forays into the straight life inbetween.

The shining glory of this is lead Vincent Cassel (who’s popped up in good films like Eastern Promises, and shite films like Ocean’s Twelve). Remarkably gorgeous despite odd features, Cassel oozes cheeky charm and spikes it with flashes of insane violence to create a character who is likeable and frightening at the same time. My knowledge of French criminals is sparse, and to avoid spoiling the second instalment I have restrained my research into Jacques Mesrine, although note with curiosity that the film is based on a book that he himself wrote. Whether he twisted true events to be more exciting, or to portray him as a sexy devil, is unknown at present, and I’m certainly looking forward to finding out more once I’ve completed the film duo.

The film is in Goodfellas territory, with linear story telling, elongated running time and the highs and lows of the life of crime, but melds in some brutal prison time (they don’t make prisons like they used to) and some rather exciting if not a little silly gun battles. But with the excellence of Cassel in front of the camera, and the sparky direction of Jean-Francois Richet steering the show, Mesrine erupts as a fresh, thrilling piece.

The decision to split the film into two is one I can only judge after catching the second part (released in a couple of weeks), as is the extent to which we explore Mesrine’s psyche, which was covered in some depths in this instalment but has definite room for further exposition. But as a standalone piece, Mesrine: Killer Instinct is engaging, exciting and well-paced enough to climb to a CF2. Bring on the second part, is all I can say.

5th August 09 - Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

2009-08-12T11:28:00.001Z

After my lacklustre response to the previous Potter (what number are we on now anyway? Six? Five? Two hundred?) I approached this new instalment with a “meh” attitude. I am a rare non-reader of the Potster, but I knew this was the one where “someone” dies (sorry to spoil it for non-readers of the book… but “someone” dies. There. And no, sadly it’s not Potter) so was mildly curious as to how.

As a non-reader, wading through these films is like walking into the sea with an inflatable around your waist. It gets harder the further you go and you never get to appreciate the depths of the story because you only ever see the surface. The longer the book, the less sense the films make. From what I can make of it, The Half Blood Prince is when everyone’s trying to bone everyone else, then Potter and Dumbledore go on a random quest to fight a group of gollums, before a wet flannel finale and an open ended finish.

As such, there are some amusing teenage romance moments, some slightly creepy bits, and a slight advancement on the plot. At least something actually happens in this one, compared to the previous film (Potter: the moody years) but it very much feels like a run up to the final flick, which has been split into two in order to make more money - sorry – I mean because the book is too long.

Acting-wise this is still painfully patchy, Radcliffe’s face sometimes so blank it looks CGI’d. And because of the gaps in the plot most events seem disjointed or unremarkable, or often just plain stupid (“hey Harry, let’s go to this random place for no reason and put you in peril. Again.”) But it pulls together just enough to hold your attention (saggy middle aside) and the likeable Grint and Watson are at least fun to watch, even if their characters don’t do anything at all.

If you haven’t read the books then I would rate this at CF-1. As a stand alone film it is disjointed and unclear. My book-reading companion appeared to enjoy it more, however, so I suspect a more enthusiastic recommendation would go out to those immersed in the Potter world already. But then, if you’ve read the books you’ll probably see it regardless of what I say, like a lamb going to cinema slaughter. So I’m sticking with CF-1. Up yours people who read Potter! Up yours!

29th July 09 - Bruno

2009-07-29T14:47:00.000Z

Back in 2006 Borat stormed cinemas with balls-in-face humour and cringe-inducing set ups. Now Baron Cohen pulls out his final character from the original trio, Austrian TV presenter Bruno, for another foray into the world of duping Americans for laughs. Bruno hungers for fame, loves fashion and, it’s fair to say, is reasonably homosexual. The film sees him head to LA with the dream of becoming famous, trying anything and everything to realise his dream.

At an anorexic 1 hour 20 mins, Bruno ploughs through scenarios and jokes like they’re going out of fashion. Shining moments include interviewing shameful parents for their babies to be included in a photo shoot (“are they comfortable with wasps, bees and hornets?”), baffling tough guys in an army camp and appearing on a talk show with his adoptive child. The best gags have mostly been splashed on the trailers, but will still elicit laughs.

But you’re more likely to do those gasping laughs, the ones you do when you’ve just seen something shocking but you can’t help laughing anyway. You know, like when children fall over. Take the man wrestling scene from Borat and amplify it tenfold, and you’re still not close to some of the chaos that Bruno spurts on screen. He certainly goes for the shock factor, but in my book “funny” outweighs “shock” for entertainment value, and unfortunately Bruno gets it the wrong way round.

Bruno also loses the original gist of the character – a device to expose the vacuous nature of the fashion world – and goes for the homophobic instead. Trouble is, there’s using a gay character to highlight the still apparent homophobia of certain areas of America, and then there’s taking your pants off and attempting to kiss a man in order to make him get up and run off, angrily complaining about the gay guy who just tried to kiss you. That’s not exposing homophobia, that’s exposing people who object to being sexually assaulted. Hilarious!

It’s a shame, as Baron Cohen has created a sympathetic chap, flawed but still likeable, and he yet again demonstrates his spectacular ability for character acting. Faced with a crowd of Americans baying for his blood on more than one occasion, Cohen never breaks face. You’d have to have some mega balls to do that. And Cohen’s not afraid to show them…

If the funnier scenes were beefed up and there was less reliance on staged moments aimed purely to shock, Bruno would have matched Borat for a comedy treat. As it is, Bruno feels too quick with not enough material or a clear focus to warrant a film. Although it gains point for having Paula Abdul sit on a Mexican. One to wait for DVD, Bruno slides to a CF-1. Nicht so gut.

22 July 09 - Moon

2009-07-28T11:18:00.001Z

Moon feels like a distilled version of a Philip K Dick story. I compare to Dick as it uses science fiction concepts to explore the very nature of humanity. I say distilled, as you can actually follow the plot the whole way through without losing your sanity. Hurray!

Newcomer Duncan Jones (son of some guy called David Bowie) brings a high concept pitch – moon setting, futuristic mining machines, split screen mayhem – and somehow manages to create a cinemaworthy piece on a miniscule budget. As such, there are no “look what we can do with all our money” shots, and instead just a tight, focused piece that puts plot and character before visual effects, but managing to avoid that “BBC budget” feel.

Without spoiling the plot too much, as part of the joy is in letting realities unravel before your eyes, Moon orbits around Sam Bell, a man coming to the end of his three year stint supervising giant mining machines on the moon (humans have found a new source of energy up there, thus saving our energy crisis back home). His only company is a slightly creepy robot computer type thing, and with live communications blocked by a downed satellite his only real link to the earth is through pre-recorded messages from his wife back home. It’s when Sam’s replacement arrives that things start to get interesting. Read other reviews and the whole concept of interesting is blown out the water via the medium of spoilers, but compared to the others Cinemafool reviews are more considerate and, let’s face it, better.

Anyway, Sam Rockwell takes on the lead role, pretty much carrying the whole film himself and doing a damn fine job of it, building a character who is believable and sympathetic. The creepy but amusing robot companion is perfectly voiced by Kevin Spacey and neatly echoes 2001’s HAL. Jones’ direction is intimate and creative, particularly when tackling various splitscreen type shots (it’s like he thought “hey, we’re on a tiny budget. What’ll make this even more difficult…?)

Moon’s plot would perhaps need some more meat on its bones to bring it out of short story territory and into novel glory, but it’s a charming little film, beautifully handled by Jones and superbly acted by Rockwell. Certainly standing out from the current crowd, Moon delighted enough to raise a CF3. Marvellous.

18th July 09 - The Hangover

2009-07-28T11:16:00.001Z

At first glance this looked like just another film for idiot men. You know the sort of film – gratuitous boob shots, jokes involving fat people and bodily fluids, a plot that revolves around someone wanting to bone someone and a reliance on stereotypes or casual racism to elicit laughs. Between fart gags. The type of men these films are aimed at are thick faced, gel-haired morons who seriously read the Sun and Nuts magazine, and the sight of a woman bending over in a thong causes them to clap their hands in meaty delight. Between farts.

This is how I dismissed The Hangover, based on its trailer with strippers and a convicted rapist (hilarious!) But then a weird thing started to happen. People were recommending it to me. People who weren’t meat fisted, thick-faced morons. Curiosity and a desire for entertainment lead me to watch it, expectations upgraded from “pile of shite” to “unexpected comedy greatness”. Damn you expectations, because armed with the former I would have been very pleasantly surprised.

The Hangover is not the hair-brained turd-stool that you might think. Four friends go off to Vegas for a stag do, and three of them wake up with limited memories, some unexpected guests and a missing groom. It becomes a whodunit mystery as they piece their night back together again. With a writing team who worked on such gems as Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, and Four Christmases, and a director who brought us Old School and Starsky and Hutch, it’s no wonder this isn’t a hair-brained turd. And every wonder it’s more like a slightly unsatisfying digestive biscuit.

Yes, this has a little more to it than the usual, but it still brings out the old favourites to get a laugh. Naked old people (ha ha, they’re old and flabby!), foreign people (ha ha, they can’t pronounce things!) and bodily fluids (ha ha, it’s spunky!) all get a turn. Then there’s the great void of female characterisation, the main women being either a) a stripper, b) a moany bride to be, or c) a naggy cow, who of course is the one who wears glasses. Not that the men aren’t left out either, our main trio being token hot guy who’s a bad boy who learns to be good, token dweeby guy who learns to be kerr-azy, and token hairy guy who’s a bit weird.

But hey, sometimes all people want is to be entertained, right? And The Hangover can do that, its plot intriguing enough, and dealt with smartly enough, to keep you hooked throughout. Laughs may have been amplified if the trailer hadn’t ruined half the main surprises, or if your reviewer hadn’t watched it in a semi-comatose state with a very irritating person in front who fits the female equivalent of the meat-faced men described above.

So, not half as terrible as at first perceived, but disappointing based on the recommendations, The Hangover jiggles around the ratings and settles on a basic CF0. It’s enjoyable enough without raising the roof, and probably not best to watch it while suffering from the title condition…

8th July 09 - Public Enemies

2009-07-28T11:09:00.001Z

The pairing of Christian Bale and Johnny Depp, with Michael Mann steering the ship, is surely the stuff of cinema dreams. Throw in a true story of an uber cool bank robber and you’ve got a winner before you ever get past the title screen. You’ve blown up the balloon to its maximum capacity and you’re about to release it, ready to be thrilled as it zooms across the room in a zigzag of fun chaos, complete with silly noises. Alas this was more like those times when you fumble the release and end up with a sputtering disappointment, some spittle in your face, and then a final flop to the ground.

Depp plays John Dillinger, a notorious bank robber (and namesake of metal mathcore band “the Dillinger Escape Plan”, a name that automatically pops into my head every time I say John Dillinger. There – it did it again.) Dillinger is a cheeky chappy, dodging the law and wangling his way out of prison every now and then (hence the band name). Depp nails the cool cheek of the man, dabbles in some deeper shades of emotion, but seems to spend most of the time attempting to squint his eyes and smile with only one half of his mouth. Take it from the expert – you’ve got to have a lifetime of practice before you get that smile right.

Meanwhile Bale plays FBI chap Melvin Purvis, assigned the task of hunting down Dillinger for good. As with Terminator, our Bale doesn’t get to do an awful lot besides running, a bit of shouting, and some moody staring out of windows.

There are some interesting choices in direction, particularly going digital for a night time shoot-out. The ‘digi’ effect wipes the usual sepia focus that covers this time period and gives an immediate feel, making things seem quite real. Either that or difficult to follow and as if filmed on your dad’s holiday camcorder.

What causes the failed balloon effect on this film is the fact that it focused entirely on the wrong guy. Dillinger is made the main man here, a bank robber with a slight weakness for a particular woman, who dodges police. Been there – done that. Bonnie and Clyde got the t-shirt. After 140 minutes, in which a surprisingly small amount of things happen, the usual blurbs appear that let you know what happened to each character next. And without even a bat of an eye Melvin Purvis – Bale’s FBI chap – gets a few sentences which sound infinitely more interesting than what you’ve just seen. Search his name and check out his life story. Now that would have been a good film! That would have given Bale something to get his chops round (and see if the Machinist was just a fluke…) That should have been this film. Not slightly clunky, slightly bland bank robber, cat and mouse type stuff.

For what it is, this is ok. Just ok. For what it could have been just make the noise of a balloon slowly deflating. I know I’m super intelligent, but surely the guys could have taken a few more minutes to check out the better story before ploughing into making this film. For such a stonking mistake, Public Enemies slips down a point and gets a balloon in the face CF-1.

1st July 09 - Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen

2009-07-12T13:13:00.002Z

Back in 2007 Michael Bay played with some big robots and let us watch him for a couple of hours. He created a film Cinemafool described as “bloody enjoyable cheese” and the trailers for the sequel were tantalising awesome. Can Bay serve up some more silly cheese? Or will he leave it out of the tupperware and end up with something hard and a bit of a funny colour?

Well, a bit of both really. Visually this still ticks the right boxes, the effects even more stunning and set pieces even more spectacular. The old cast are back, Shia with his weirdly massive nostrils, Megan Fox pouting like she’s never pouted before and occasionally undressing for no real reason, and the best feature of the first – John Turturro – returning with his usual odd-ball comedy spark. The size and number of bots have increased, including a cool tiger type thing, a monstrous wheeled giant and a super huge bot with a giant sucking mouth. It looks like they’ve been perfecting their CGI too, as the transformers are more expressive, and more interactive with their surroundings than before.

Such combinations of better effects and the same cast gives humour and wows in places, particularly the forest battle scene. But Transformers suffers from sequelitis, in that the pulling power of the first – seeing beloved toys come to life and blow shit up – no longer applies. We’ve been impressed with life-like robots transforming into planes mid-air. What else you got? Unfortunately it’s pretty much more of the same, but for a little bit longer.

Bay’s biggest problem – thinking we enjoy watching battle scenes as much as he does – hampers this as much as it did in the first film. Bay’s hard-on for helicopters and epic fights can never be matched by Joe-Public. It’s like he’s asked us to go for a run with him. Bay’s sprinting, arms flapping wildly, shouting “weeeeee” all the way. At first we – the audience – run along with him, finding it quite entertaining. But after five minutes Bay is still at it with the same level of enthusiasm, whereas we’ve stopped, out of breath and a little embarrassed to be seen near him. “Ok, that’s enough now” we’ll shout after him, but he won’t hear us. Not for another ten minutes or so. This is what the final battle scene is like – we’re tired and a little bit annoyed while Bay is running round going “weeeeee!”

There were elements of a run with Bay in the first film, but the excitement from the novelty of watching Transformers helped to make it bearable. Unfortunately this time around it’s lost its spark, leaving some enjoyment but also some tiresome battles. The plot is nonsensical as expected, clunkily edited together with some casual stereotyping. You’ll watch most of it with a smile on your face, but there’s a point as you go past the two hour mark where that smile wanes. Disappointing given the awesomeness of the trailers, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen is still a great summer blockbuster, but could have been so much more. It gets a recommended CF0, but no more.

17th June 09 - Looking for Eric

2009-06-21T13:47:00.002Z

Facts I know about Cantona: he’s French, has hefty eyebrows, used to wear his collar up and once kicked someone in the face. Oh and he played football for some team or other. As you can see, I know lots. But it seems not quite enough to truly appreciate Ken Loach’s Looking for Eric. With a greater knowledge about the man I’d probably have found more hilarity from the film, but really my head is so full up with knowledge already about more useful and interesting things, ex-footballers just don’t warrant deleting any of the info to make more brain space.

Anyway, in light of this my enjoyment of this film may have been hampered a little, but not enough to give an “I’m Not There” effect (described as unbaked cake smeared on the wall in Jan 08). Eric (not Cantona) is a postman, struggling with two divorces and two horrible step-sons to look after. His supportive mates try to help lift his spirits, but it turns out a hallucinated Cantona, Eric’s idol, is the best answer to his problems. Or a handy way for Eric to vocalise his back-story, without resorting to him just spouting monologues all the time. Still, it’s fun to see a gruff Cantona playing a hallucinated version of himself, spouting sayings (something I’ve since learnt was his speciality) and saying things in such a thick accent that it’s sometimes too difficult to follow.

Though the trailer suggests this to be a quirky romp with uplifting music from the Coral and lots of fat northern men chuckling away, the film itself is a tad grittier than expected. This is Ken Loach, after all, the chap who brought laugh-a-minute Kes to the screens. Set in Salford, a known shit-hole, Eric’s rough stepsons provide enough drama to muddy the lighter tone of Cantona’s visits and give the film a bit of weight. Steve Evets’ Eric has enough humanity to make you want him to succeed, even if his constant swearing feels slightly forced and unnatural for such a nice chap.

There’s a nice contrast between Eric’s harsh reality and his amusing relationship with Cantona, but a neat and slightly unbelievable finish leaves the film more namby pamby than something truly special. An interesting idea nicely played out, perhaps with a little more weight behind it the points could have climbed higher. As such, Looking for Eric finds itself at a CF1. Worth the effort to look at.

10th June 09 - Terminator Salvation

2009-06-16T18:40:00.002Z

Iconic, groundbreaking, terrifying, parodied and referenced to death, the Terminator films are some of the best popular sci-fi films. If you wipe number 3 from the world, of course. Making a fourth in the series with a different cast and the director of Charlie’s Angels Full Throttle wasn’t always the most exciting of news. With Christian Bale signed on, though, there was a glimmer of hope that this wouldn’t be a big pile of robotic shite.

And you know, it’s not actually that bad. Despite having a ridiculous name, director McG notches up a gear, throwing in some interesting tidbits such as the opening helicopter escape, the cameraman somehow hopping into a copter and following the action in a seemingly one-take shot. We have the world post-judgement day, with massive scary robots ruling the world and picking off any remaining survivors, and a strangely organised bunch of army types attempting to settle the score. On the goodies side is the grown up John Connor (Bale), who is heralded as humanity’s saviour, although you’ll be in big trouble if you shine light in his face…

Into the fray also is Sam Worthington, the anti-hero, doing a good job of looking vaguely perplexed most of the time. The rest of the cast is a mixed bag of tokens, with token hot lady who’s supposed to be well hard (Moon Bloodgood – what a name!) and Token rapper-turned-actor (Common – too good for two names). The terminators themselves are suitably nasty, but lack the original fear factor of the lone hunters from the first two films. Transformers-esque uber-bots are pretty cool, but slightly familiar.

In fact, there’s a lot that’s slightly familiar about this futuristic world. A heavy industrial setting, with big factories blowing fire and sparks out of the floor for no real reason. Human survivors who huddle in small groups wearing rags or building Mad Max style weapons. A small child who doesn’t talk but remains remarkably calm in all the chaos. It’s a bit like McG has researched the gig by watching loads of films from the same genre and then packaging them all up into one big fat cliché.

Not that it isn’t an entertaining cliché at least, and there are some fun nods to the originals (some low-key, some bleedin' obvious). But rather than take an ingenious yet simple set up from two insanely popular films and run the plot into new and exciting directions, Salvation just runs ideas into the well worn ground of futuristic chaos. And similarly takes an actor who can bring weight and a silly voice to something amazingly good (Batman), but leaves him to casually bark orders and run about a bit. Bale could have been replaced by any bog-standard actor or token and it would have had the same effect. A bit of a waste, really.

This could very easily have been a big mechanical turd, and it could also have been the revival of an exciting franchise. As it is, Salvation is a reasonably well done version of a familiar genre, but proof that sometimes you should leave some classics where they stand and perhaps try to come up with something brand new. Or just base something on a toy. Terminator Salvation gets a baseline CF0. Good, but not great.

3rd June 09 - Star Trek

2009-06-16T17:44:00.002Z

Star Trek is one of those phenomenons that is either insanely popular to the point of hysteria in one subset of the population, or a concept that is utterly alien and unknown in the rest. A bit like the Jonas Brothers. I straddle the gap between fan and non-fan, having been exposed to the various series and films throughout my childhood and enjoying it to a point, but not so far as to dress up and attend a themed event. Well, only the once...

This is a genius pairing of a franchise featuring a plethora of fascinating characters and decade-deep ideas, with a director who’s been behind some mega popular high scale TV shows (Alias, Lost) and the best of the Mission Impossible films (number 3). J J Abrams blasts the Trek into the realms of the popular, making a show that many shy away from or turn their noses up at into something any uninitiated Trekster can actually enjoy. Bursting with big-ass fights between ships in space and peppered with some basic hand-to-hand combat in unusual settings, Abrams packs in the action and doesn’t bore.

Though he’s marked himself as more of a Wars fan in the Star categories, Abrams still manages to litter the film with reference after reference to the good ol’ Trek, adding an extra layer for fans to giggle at without diluting the enjoyment for everyone else. The cast are mostly superb, playing the young versions of the original Enterprise crew without relying too much on straight parody or spoof. Zachary Quinto’s Spock is spot-on, and Karl Urban’s Bones hilarious, with the random choice of Simon Pegg to play Scotty working out as a nice comedy touch. Perhaps the hardest part was Kirk, being under Shatner’s formidable shadow, and though Chris Pine keeps away from any attempt to copy the Shat and try a new rebellious side to the young James T, his character seems to be more annoying than believably captain-like.

With a suitably extravagant baddy (Eric Bana as a Romulan) and some neat plays with time travel, Star Trek is big, brash, fun and thrilling. Sucking new fans into the somewhat marvellous world of the Trek, and pressing the right buttons to please the most die-hard fan, Abrams has struck gold with this one and earns himself a CF3. Kick starting the summer blockbuster season with a bang, let’s see if the others can match this one.

27th May 09 - Synecdoche New York

2009-05-29T14:07:00.002Z

Last week my brain had regressed to being nine years old, and I’d hoped the damage hadn’t been permanent. It seems that maybe I’ve caused more damage to my intellectual core than I’d at first realised. Synecdoche New York is by one of my favourite screenwriters (Charlie Kaufman). It’s been soaked in the slather of critics' praise, considered by some to be a masterpiece. And I’m never one to admit failure. Or a weakness in my brain. But I have to admit this.

I didn’t understand.

God it feels weird to write that.

Kaufman’s ideas have always astounded and excited me, his audacity to write himself into his own film (Adaptation), or crushing interpretation of relationships (Eternal Sunshine). Even a hole that leads into John Malkovich’s brain makes some sort of sense. But with Synecdoche I failed even at the first hurdle of pronouncing the bloody title. Featuring the ever brilliant Philip Seymour Hoffman as a theatre director who… well, loses his mind? Dies? Dreams? Or really does create a replica of New York inside a giant warehouse in order to create a play reflecting real life. God knows.

The trouble is the film plays out its duration without explanation, which is normally fine and dandy. Films that make you go “huh?” until their end reveal are often a joy, because you can then go back over the film with a new understanding and pick up on a heck of a lot more. Synecdoche, however, gives a hazy explanation, possibly hidden in a monologue or two or some reference to the time or whatever. It’s unclear. And being unclear just a little so you can have a ponder and figure stuff out for yourself is all well and good. But being so unclear that you leave without anything to go by at all means you’ve spent the last two hours watching something weird and meaningless. And if I wanted to do that I’d just watch Inland Empire again.

The frustration is there are some lovely moments and ideas in here. The warehouse-within-a-warehouse. The actors playing actors playing the main characters. The therapist. The strange dentist. The speeches, like “we're all hurtling towards death, yet here we are for the moment, alive. Each of us knowing we're going to die, each of us secretly believing we won't.” This could be a stark exploration of what it means to be alive. It could well be. Or maybe not. But what it definitely is, is confusing.

With a stellar cast (among others there’s Catherine Keener, Michelle Williams, Samantha Morton, Emily Watson) and a superb writer, this film should have been one of the best. It’s been dubbed “ambitious”, which is certainly true. But in adding too many layers and hiding the clues, Kaufman seems to have made it just that bit too difficult. Like a jigsaw puzzle featuring baked beans – the only puzzle my mother has ever given up in her illustrious jigsaw career – there is being tricky enough to test you but cause enjoyment, and being so tricky that it just ends up left in pieces on the table.

In short: though I’m curious to re-watch in order to try and make sense and perhaps gain more enjoyment from the numerous particulars I may have missed first time around, Synecdoche New York is still a disappointment. Tiny pieces of brilliance stirred into some baffling soup. I can’t even fathom what rating it should get, so will stick to a CF0. It doesn’t seem right to mark it lower than 17 Again, but also doesn’t seem right to give it higher marks when it made me admit to not understanding. Let’s hope my higher brain function returns soon.

24th May 09 - Hannah Montana: The Movie

2009-05-28T12:48:00.002Z

Ok. Let me explain. I never understood what Hannah Montana was, merely hated it from a distance because she was younger than me and smiles lots and seemed to be in that Disney gang of creepy Efron-bred performers. But then one weekend the Disney channel put on a 48-hour marathon of Hannah Montana, and this, combined with a post-alcohol state and the TV already being on the channel after my comrade’s obsession with creepy Efron-bred performers, meant I ended up watching several hours of Hannah Montana. After a while her goofy southern charm started to worm its way into my consciousness, and so it was only natural I would follow her to the cinema screens. In an entirely ironic way of course.

For those who know nothing of Montana, here is a quick overview. Miley Cirus, daughter of Billy Ray (the achey-breaky-heart chap) plays Miley Stewart, a normal girl who also happens to be a mega famous popstar called Hannah Montana. By the clever use of wigs, Miley can keep her normal life and her Hannah popstar life separate. This concept starts to get confusing when her real life dad also plays her on screen dad, called “Bobby Ray”. And the fictional Hannah Montana releases real-life CDs and goes on tour. And real life Miley also releases her own material and goes on tour. And in the film, fictional Miley ALSO creates her own material, which has ALSO been released. It’s as complex and fascinating as The Hills. Make of that what you will…

Anyway, the film deals with vast themes of identity and family. No, really. Montana gets too big for her boots so her daddy sends her back home to rediscover the real Miley. She falls in love with a cute cowboy, rides a horse and saves the town. Go Miley! Obviously this is Disney, and essentially a child’s film, so there’s also stuff like people getting cake on their faces, or non-fatal alligator attacks. Plus a host of songs, although thankfully they’re relatively short and don’t have much of a High School Musical dancey feel to them.

Now, only a month ago I purposefully watched a shit film (17 Again) and happily admitted to it. Montana is a different bag, though. It was actually rather emotional, good fun, made possible by the engaging Cirus, a rising star with already phenomenal success in tween land.

Yes, it was pretty clichéd, reasonably corny, a bit silly, childish… but hell, I enjoyed it anyway. Perhaps the sugar from my pick n’ mix regressed my brain back to being nine years old. Hopefully the damage won’t be permanent and I’ll be back to watching subtitled films in an empty cinema, guffawing at unfunny moments to show everyone how clever I am. For now, Hannah Montana is harmless fun with a star so frighteningly accomplished already that I fear a Britney backlash anytime soon. If 17 Again can do it, so can Miley, and her film also nabs a CF0.

20th May 09 - X-Men Origins: Wolverine

2009-05-27T12:43:00.001Z

During the opening ceremony for this year’s Oscars, lovely Hugh Jackman did a sterling performance culminating in a loud proclamation that he was Wolverine. Having played the widely popular character for four films now, it’s no doubt that Jackman is right, the man embodying everything about the character – the guttural growl of fury, the veined muscular arms, the copious hair. Lovely Hugh was the highlight of the three X-Men films, so it’s no wonder they were quick to spin off a prequel.

Origins does exactly what it says on the tin, showing us Wolvy from little ankle-biter to adulthood and with the whole “not dying” thing, his adulthood spans a century or so. Skipping over these bits with an opening titles montage, the film settles on the period where Wolverine meets Stryker, filling in the blanks from X-2 and showing just how Wolvy gets his metal claws, and why he has no memory of it.

The main antagonist is Wolverine’s brother, a fanged and clawed Liev Schreiber, whose dangerous lust for chaos and the kill is marred by some dodgy wire-work and him looking slightly silly. The plot trundles along, throwing up some new mutants for the effects folk to show off (including some cool sword work), a sound of music moment with nice gratuitous topless shot of lovely Hugh, and some good old-fashioned redemption.

Lovely Hugh really puts some welly into it, doing an ace job of super angry Wolverine, grunting his way through fights and flinging himself at helicopters in the stand-out motorbike chase sequence. His co-stars are a mixed bag, either little sparks that are cruelly underused – Ryan Reynolds as a snappy-talking swordsman, and a rather handsome Taylor Kitsch as Gambit – or a bit of a waste of time – Daniel Henney as the blando Agent Zero, and Will I Am popping up in a cowboy hat for no reason at all.

Despite Lovely Hugh’s outstanding portrayal of an ace character, Wolverine doesn’t have the wow-impact it promised, more the impact of a flan hitting a pavement. That is, a thick thud that makes some sort of impression but one that can be easily washed away. It was definitely enjoyable, particularly Lovely Hugh’s naked run through the forest, but worthy of no more than a recommended CF0. I never say no to flan, after all.

6th May 09 - Crank: High Voltage

2009-05-15T12:56:00.001Z

Ah Crank. The baffling, chaotic bash from 2006 starring Jason Statham as Chev Chelios, a hitman poisoned with a drug that requires adrenaline levels to be kept high, creating a film that I described watching in “dazed amazement”. Given Crank’s ending no one expected a sequel, but the news of Crank: High Voltage certainly sparked excitement for cinemafool. Geddit? “High voltage - sparked”? I’m so clever…

Anyway, in this instalment our Chev has only gone and had his heart stolen and replaced with a mechanical version with a slowly dying battery. Of course. Along the same lines as the first, Chev must stalk the streets in search of the culprits, all the while performing increasingly insane stunts in order to keep his heart ticking. There are some that say Crank is highly unbelievable. To them I smack my forehead and say “well duurrr”. Even the film itself refers to the plot of its predecessor as “highly implausible”.

Crank is the computer game that never was, the resultant nightmare of a teenage boy with attention deficit disorder after gorging on a diet of sherbert, fizzy drinks and Grand Theft Auto. Don’t have Crank 2 on imax screens – you will cause mass eye haemorrhaging. The directing duo of Neveldine and Taylor, responsible for the first instalment, go all out once more, battering your senses with fast edits, booming soundtrack, random imagery, gore, guns, and a heck of a lot of boobs.

If it didn’t openly mock itself or so closely mirror itself to computer games (check out the first-person style shooter shots at the start) then this would be a horrific ball of shit, with a repulsive attitude towards women, gross stereotyping of most races and careless glamorisation of violence. But Crank has its tongue in its cheek, not enough to be a straight spoof, but enough to make everything a good giggle instead of appalling trash. Statham delivers with a straight face, even when wearing an electric dog collar or rubbing up to a granny.

There are so many little touches to the film – the “9 seconds later” cut scene, Statham’s “chicken and broccoli” quip after killing some Chinese men, the nonsensical Godzilla-esque fight – that it would stand repeat viewings despite a paper thin plot that spirals into, um, a reanimated head (seriously).

If you don’t approach this with the right attitude, you’ll probably be offended within five minutes or have some sort of seizure at the vibrant opening credits. But take Crank how it’s intended – an insane discharge of entertaining nonsense – and you’ll no doubt love it. It lacks the unexpected charm of the original, but still gains a nice CF0. I can’t wait to see what the new Crank / Transporter vehicle will be for Statham. Here’s hoping it involves more flapping hospital gowns.

29th April 09 - 17 Again

2009-04-29T12:51:00.001Z

It’s time for my quarterly dose of purposefully watching a shit film (see January’s Bride Wars) in an effort to get into the mindset of the general public pleb in order to try and extend the audience catchment area of this site. Granted, calling everyone a pleb might have just hindered my plans, but let’s be honest – anyone who watches this shite on purpose probably can’t read anyway.

So, after successfully insulting everyone let’s get down to it. 17 Again is the offspring of Big and Freaky Friday, the lazy-bods in Disney having the brain wave of making the guy younger instead of older – genius! We await 17 going on 70, when Dame Judi Dench wakes up to find she’s now Miley Cirus. God that’d be a good film.

The main draw of this film is Zac Efron. This is the guy all the kids have been going on about, the star of the rampage-inducing High School Musical series, who is now reaching an age where it’s morally acceptable to like him for us older ‘kids’. People seem to love Zac because of his dreamlike eyes, perfect hair, cheeky charm and slender yet muscular frame. This is just what I’ve read, anyway. It’s easy to see why he’s popular, the lad carrying this film happily enough, with smart little replications of his older-self’s mannerisms (Matthew Perry, looking like a haggard crab in comparison to his younger star, and thus probably wanting to kill himself by the end of the shoot).

Zac seems almost too perfect, though, the product of some sort of Disney breeding programme which is spawning hundreds of mini-Zacs and Zacettes (the trailers showed us what to expect in the future – hundreds of mini-Zacs singing and dancing and smiling at you. For ever. And ever.) It’s slightly disconcerting, but also intriguing – will our Zac steer his career like DiCaprio, swapping pretty-boy for pretty-damn-amazing film choices? Or will he head the way of Britney, damaged and distorted by the press? Although let’s be honest – he’s a guy, so the press aren’t going to make fun of him being too fat or too thin, or wait around to get shots up his trousers (there’s an idea for them…)

Efron is in fact upstaged by nerdy adult best mate Ned (Thomas Lennon) who steals the majority of laughs, or “smirks” as they more often were. Some amusingly cringey and weird moments aside (young Zac + old wife, or more worryingly, young Zac + daughter) 17 Again is largely unremarkable but not wholly unpleasant, made bearable by the antics of Ned and Efron’s effortless charm. A few gratuitous slo-mo shots of him without a top on seem to sweeten the deal. With a good message for the kids (stop being such a whiney-pants about screwing up your life, and don’t have unprotected sex or you’ll turn into a whiney-pants who’s screwed up his life) this is reasonable, but sits below the superior original Big and the ultimately more fun 13 going on 30. It just about sneaks in to a CF0 on the strength of its cast. And because it didn’t have a song in it.

22nd April 09 - In the Loop

2009-04-22T12:17:00.000Z

Usually a comedy with more than a couple of writers suggests once of those that have required extensive rewriting and extra fart gags just to fill the naff joke quota. But In The Loop’s writing team is an obscure-comedy fan’s wet dream, featuring those involved with genius like Partridge (Armando Iannucci – also the director of In the Loop), Peep Show (Jesse Armstrong), The Armstrong & Miller Show (Simon Blackwell), and the TV-parent of this film The Thick Of It (Ian Martin & Tony Roche, as well as everyone else already mentioned).

Such writing delights make for a dialogue-snappy film, sparkling with diamond-sharp insults and eloquent put-downs dripping in sarcasm (the “willy-banjo” a particular favourite). The plot is at first sprawling, with various characters colliding with each other in a seemingly directionless manner, until the plot threads are suddenly and swiftly tied together in a blunt and bold attack on one of the biggest government lies in the last decade.

The characters are too numerous to go through, but the big favourite has to be Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi), a Scottish powerhouse of cunning anger and superfluous swearing, dodging the simple “angry sweary man” label through some excellent acting from Capaldi when we spy a few cracks in his tough hide. The rest of the cast are equally excellent and each get their turn to shine, including James Soprano, sorry, Gandolfini, who has the best angry-breathing ever.

With Iannucci’s laid-back direction and unfolding plot development, In the Loop feels more like a feature-length BBC3 comedy than a multiplex dweller, but compared to the rest of mostly tosh out in the cinema at the moment, there’s no harm in watching a TV comedy on a massive screen surrounded by strangers. Funny, sharp, intelligent and ever so slightly depressing, In the Loop is a proud example of Britain’s writing talent, and a withering reminder of how crap politics can be. It easily makes a CF2.

15th April 09 - Let the Right One In

2009-04-15T12:03:00.000Z

Last week I challenged the fictional film world to try and live up to the high marks the last two documentaries have gained. It seems they heard me over in Sweden.

Let the Right One In is a lovely tale of a young boy in 80s Sweden whose human interaction consists of dodging bullies and being ignored by his parents. Lucky for him there’s a new next door neighbour, a girl around his age. Although she’s only out at night, doesn’t feel the cold and is partial to some human haemoglobin. Bless. It’s just how I imagine Angel rip-off Twilight to be, if the characters were 12 year old Swedish kids instead of hormone fuelled preeners.

This film avoids the leather jacket cliché and instead puts vampires back to being creatures, preying on humans with an animalistic lust for blood, growling and pouncing – unusual when on the outside this beast is a 12 year old girl. Eli, played by Lina Leandersson, is superb, being only 14 in real life and yet evoking such age and experience in her eyes when playing the older vampire, with a sorrow bedded in her eyes at the lonelier aspects of her existence. Her human counterpart, Oskar (Kare Hedebrant), sporting possibly the most stereotypically Swedish hair-do ever, is equally good, a fact confirmed by my Swedish correspondent.

The violence in this film is stark yet unflashy, at times surprisingly brutal (acid + face = youch) but sometimes almost comically so, particularly in the beautifully composed swimming pool scene. Cringy CGI cats aside, the film is visually solid, the icy Swedish backdrop clashing nicely with the warmth of the two lead’s developing friendship. It tests your morality somewhat, and that’s part of its charm. On the one side a heart-warming tale of friendship where it’s most needed, on the other a dark glimpse into a potentially destructive and violent relationship.

Let the Right One In takes a couple of old formulas (vampire mythology plus child befriending non-human – see ET) and melds them into something captivating, beautiful and slightly disconcerting. Always nice to get a film with such varying tones, this soars to a CF3, and claws back another victory for the world of fiction. Go on. Let the right film in.

8th April 09 - Religulous

2009-04-14T15:01:00.001Z

Ah religion. Like the whole football idea last week, religion is another concept to have escaped my understanding. As a child I prayed to god that I’d stop having bad dreams, and when I discovered this didn’t work I came to the realisation that it was all a bit made up and silly. This was a nine year-old’s conclusion. The fact that fully grown adults – millions of them – still cling to religion is baffling, and it seems comedian Bill Maher agrees as he heads up this documentary on just why people still practice religion, and the harm it can do to the human race.

Maher embarks on his journey with a bemused fascination with beliefs, asking the obvious questions that aren’t asked often enough and at times highlighting the corrupt and hypocritical nature of those who preach. He uncovers some characters who are ridiculous enough to cause hilarity – the self proclaimed “reincarnation of Jesus” (who makes money via a tv show), the man who plays Jesus in a Christian theme park in Florida, a gay man who married a lesbian and now refuses to believe that “gay” exists, and the creator of the first creationist museum. But alongside such people – we’ll call them “mentals” – Maher adds his own humour, be it smirking asides or cheeky add-ons in the form of subtitles or clips of popular culture to emphasise his point. Or just make fun.

And this isn’t just a Jesus-bashing, as Maher covers a variety of religions (albeit with a heavy focus on Christianity and a lighter touch on others, although since criticism of others can land you with death threats it’s no wonder why he steps more carefully). His overall point – that we need to stop this nonsense and concentrate on more important things like not destroying the earth and each other – is an important point to make, and makes you wish this film was made available to a wider audience rather than a small cinema screen full of guffawing pretentioles like me.

Though at times it seems the focus runs off course in favour of interviewing mentals for laughs, Religulous is still a funny and important documentary, enraging as it enlightens and making a point that’s so bloody obvious it’s painful – painful when you know not nearly enough people realise it already. I demand you find a partial believer and trick them into seeing this film, perhaps under the guise that it’s “The Passion – part two”. If we can get the casual believer on to the rational side, perhaps there’ll be enough of us to tackle such nonsensical ideas like having religious politicians.

Religulous scores an impressive CF3, another high score for another documentary (see Anvil). Come on “fictional” films – can you keep up with real life?

30th March 09 - The Damned United

2009-03-30T14:22:00.000Z

The lure of football bypassed me at birth. Becoming emotionally affected to the point of violence, tears or shouting at the telly is a foreign concept to me when it comes to football. I’m bemused by people who are totally obsessed with something that ultimately has no real physical impact on their lives (unless you are actually a footballer or stand to have monetary gain from a team winning). I can understand it, though – a sense of solidarity and probable fun. It’s a concept that’s sullied by the knob-heads who use it as ways to be general knob-heads, but I suspect they’d exploit any popular activity they set their sights on. Cos they’re knob-heads.

Anyway, the purpose of my intro, aside from a way of using the term “knob-head” 3 times (now 4) because it’s a great insult used too rarely at the moment, is to give you some context into how I approach this film. I have no interest in football, and subsequently no knowledge. If a “sport-movie” was to make a big deal about its sport in a big huffy serious manner then I’m not interested, unless it’s a crazy sport like, um, pig racing. I’d watch a film about that. Definitely. Otherwise, a “sport-movie” needs to have something else – character, perhaps – that’ll swing it.

So Damned United sweeps in with a vibrant character to take the lead – Brian Clough – a chap who took on Leeds United and was promptly sacked 44 days later. Brian is an arrogant son-of-a-gun, mouthing off to the media, two fingers to the stuffy club chairs, gaining startling success by bringing up naff Derby and then stonking failure with dirty Leeds. His pride and ambition drive him, sometimes bringing triumph, sometimes costing him more than just some points on the table. With a focus on Clough rather than the game, Damned United nicely avoids stuffy sport territory, the only footie shots featuring my favourite parts (dirty fouls…) and it even handily explains things VERY CLEARLY for those finding football leagues hard to follow.

Michael Sheen steps into Clough’s shoes with cheeky gusto, at times nailing him perfectly (I know this as they showed the real Clough at the end – handy) but other times slipping into a bit of a Frostier direction. His supporting cast are sturdy (Timothy Spall, Jim Broadbent) and director Tom Hooper blends 70s grime into the screen for a nostalgic fuzzy glow. But for such a lively character the film at times felt flat, the crackle between Clough and rival manager Don Revie could have been electric, but instead felt a little subdued, and the overall impression was solid TV drama rather than engaging cinema fodder.

Though my perception may be marred by a lack of enthusiasm for the overall subject matter, and by the knob-heads in the cinema who decided to discuss the film through-out (and should have known better, being married adults) I still can’t get too excited about this. It wasn’t a flop by any means, and engaged enough on a non-sport level, but fails to gain anything more than a general recommended CF0.

21st March 09 - Watchmen

2009-03-21T14:18:00.000Z

Let’s be honest. Does the world of cinema really need another graphic novel adaptation? Even if it’s supposedly “the greatest graphic novel ever in the world ever, like, ever” as it seems to have been labelled. Do we really need to see more slow-mo visuals, laced with technology that’s already impressed a few times over? Do we need to see a big glowing blue-man’s schlong?

The answer, it appears, is hell yes.

From the outside Watchmen could be either just another Sin City, all style-no-substance flop, or another ensemble superhero waste, treading over ground now well-covered by Marvel and the like. The opening fight is visually stunning, albeit suggesting this could be just two hours of slow-mo-fight porn. But the title sequence should convince you otherwise, the complex back-story of this alternative reality (Nixon’s still in power) shown in a series of spectacular snap-shots, backed up by a soundtrack from Dylan and stamping down a foot that says “actually, this is not just another superhero film”.

And though the bare bones of it is, the overall tone really, really isn’t. The world is edging closer and closer to nuclear destruction, an amplification of the cold war only with America having a big blue god on their side, and masked vigilantes are outlawed. Probably a good thing as some of them are murdering, sadistic bastards. But the murder of one serves to kick the rest back into the world to investigate, and to allow for various regressions so we can see their actions back in the day.

Visually this film is as fabulous as you’d suspect from Zack Snyder, the guy who brought us 300 (CF reviewed in March 07 as “a crash, bang wallop. In leather thongs.”) The violence is stark and brutal, sometimes causing giggles (buzz saw + arms) but often causing a shocked pause (gun + pregnant lady…) This is rated 18 for a reason, and its sweeping finale goes some way to match that in terms of tone. Don’t let the kiddies watch this unless you want them to be miserable for the rest of their lives.

Standing at a mighty 162 minutes, Watchmen sacrifices bottom-comfort for a bit more depth to the story, yet still missing out on certain aspects from the source material (an even longer director’s cut is set for DVD) or changing other aspects as to be honest they sounded rather silly. Though Synder can be applauded for not just stripping the story down to another bland (and what would have been more confusing) super-hero-arma, it does feel that time could have been trimmed a little further without losing the subtleties of the story.

With a mature and complex plot, twisted and intriguing characters, wowing visual punch and a kick-ass soundtrack, Watchmen certainly proves why it’s based on such a beloved piece of work, and Snyder’s impressive handling proves that amazing visuals can just add to, rather than be the whole film experience. Perhaps a time trim could help it be even slicker, but for now Watchmen impressed enough to warrant a CF3 rating. Ooo!

11th March 09 - Gran Torino

2009-03-18T09:10:00.001Z

“The second Eastwood film of the year” isn’t a phrase I’d usually type with relish, given his directed films are often slightly hyperinflated, what with critics forming a plug while attempting to kiss his arse. Despite being 20 minutes too long, Changeling wasn’t actually half bad, and Gran Torino is marked as the last film to feature Eastwood in front of the camera. He’s about 102 years old, so it’s fairly understanding.

Gran Torino is angry Clint – grumpy Clint – basically, Hulk Clint. He is moments from grunting “Clint bash” during a tempter tantrum, has a Batman-esque perma-gravel to his voice, and sometimes displays such a comedy-level of anger that you wouldn’t be surprised if jets of steam were shown shooting out of his ears. At times he looks so weirdly old and angry that his face mirrors that of the moments in the two newest Hulk films where they are in transition between real person and Hulk – a sort of CGI face that looks like the actor but is a bit odd and veiny.

Anyway, Gran Torino is this comedy-style angry Clint fighting neighbourhood gangs, providing a father figure, and just generally being quite racist. If you’ve seen the trailer then it’s fairly obvious of the entire story arc, and to be honest even if you haven’t it’s still reasonably paint-by-numbers. That’s not to say it isn’t entertaining, Clint’s grumpy man bristling against his bratty children and an over-enthusiastic priest being particularly amusing.

Still you can’t help but feel this comedy grump act is oddly juxtaposed with some horrific violent acts – almost as if it’s actually not too bad because it’s a “non-American” being attacked. And the continuous reliance on weapons makes you wonder if it’s sponsored by the National Rifle Association. Need to solve a dispute? Whip out a gun! It’s fun – with a ‘g’. I should sell that tag-line.

Anyway, this is very much a Clint vehicle, with some strikingly poor supporting acting in some places, and you’d wonder if it would be half as popular without the leading man. Still, he gets to close his final film as an actor with a nice Jesus comparison (check out the pose) which I’m sure critics will clamour to agree with. Many are recommending this purely because it is his last. I don’t see why this should be the sole reason to watch it, and its weak plot (feels like a film that was made in the 90s – don’t ask me why) doesn’t give any further points. The only reason would be to chuckle at angry Clint, but if you watch the trailer you’ve pretty much covered it. Therefore Gran Torino gets a slightly underwhelming CF-1. Sorry Clint. Don’t bash me. Or shoot me…

28th Feb 09 - The International

2009-02-28T11:09:00.000Z

The International has been described as a mix between Bond and Bourne. I can concur with this in a way. It is a mix of the talky bits in Bond that act as fillers between the fight scenes, and the bits in Bourne where they show shots of different European cities. The rest of the mix is filled with shit.

Too blunt? Ok, let me paint this picture. The International starts as a dark little thriller. It’s about a corrupt bank – ooo pertinent to today’s troubled times – and features lots of investigations and cover ups and people getting offed left, right and centre for being involved. Sounds pretty good. Trouble is, though it starts with the hook of “what on earth’s going on here, then?” this soon disintegrates into “this scene is a bit familiar to any other investigatory spy type thriller” (snipers, corridors, walking quickly for long periods of time, cases being turned down by ‘them in charge’) before slowly drifting into “I’ve stopped listened to the characters talk”.

It doesn’t help when the lead characters are bone chillingly transparent, Clive Owen sulking his way through as a man who starts off a bit rubbish and ends up like super assassin Leon, whose back-story is pretty much explained by his co-star saying “hey, I’ve got your file here. With your back-story. How about I read it out loud while we walk?” Said co-star is Naomi Watts, the unbelievable investigator type woman who clings to humanity by having one shot of her family life, before being reduced to “woman on the phone with the information that helps story along”, although granted she does get in on the walking and a tiny bit of action (the bit where Clive Owen out-runs a vehicle…) before being jettisoned from the story altogether, reduced to a name check at the end like we really give a damn about her insignificant presence.

What has got my goat here is that The International starts off with an air of importance. Some stark violence and a gritty plot gave it the edge, the assumption that it might be something more than your usual investigatory thriller piece. And after fudging attempts at making this style work in a way that is enjoyable to watch, it shoe-horns in the most preposterous shoot-up I have ever seen. Initially I thought it was finally getting exciting, until I started to wonder that for a film so intent on being all serious and clever, where all these dispensable henchmen were suddenly coming from and why the lead had turned into Rambo.

After that nonsense the film spiralled into a sea of who-cares, launching characters in willy nilly and churning the plot into indecipherable mulsh. Wholly disappointing, unfulfilling and inferior to most that have gone before it, The International sinks to a paltry CF-2. No wonder Clive looks so miserable – it’s the lowest scoring film of the year so far. Cheer up Clive, worse things could happen. You could be sharing the screen with Julia Roberts next. Oh…

25th February 09 - Anvil: The Story of Anvil

2009-02-25T10:59:00.001Z

Although its title sounds like a Norwegian cartoon about a small Viking man on a quest for a golden coin, Anvil: The Story of Anvil is probably the best film to grace Cinemafool’s vision so far this year. Although to be fair the crop has been mostly “pretty good” thus far, so it’s easy for something to shine.

Anvil were a band back in the 80’s big enough to play alongside Bon Jovi, Whitesnake, and other back-comb friendly rock acts. They’re now 50-something and still making music, albeit without making money. At first glance this documentary seems to echo the spectacular mockumentary Spinal Tap, almost as if Christopher Guest and co had time travelled forwards, seen this doc, then gone back to parody it first.

As a band, Anvil match Tap for crazy hilarity, sometimes trumping it. Where the Tap used a violin to play the guitar, Anvil used a dildo, and the song “Thumb Hang”, based on a torture method from the Spanish inquisition that they’d read about in school, could easily be a Tap creation. When Anvil attempt a reunion tour, the resulting mishaps (missed trains, insane venues, getting lost) are comedy gold.

But Anvil isn’t just a real life Tap. Though it’s undeniably funny, lead singer Steve ‘Lips’ Kudlow and drummer Robb Reiner melt humanity into the mix. Their strive to continue to do what makes them happy, debt and failure be damned, is both uplifting and heart wrenching at the same time. You chuckle at the half empty bar they’re having to play in, but your heart is also breaking on their behalf. Eccentric, weird, nutters – whatever you want to label them at first – once their quest is stripped to the nub it resonates with all, and suddenly these are just guys wanting to make their lives mean something.

Director Sacha Gervasi crafts this documentary perfectly, throwing out the belly laughs early, pulling you into the heart of the story, then building you up to the grand finale. Though at times some aspects are so bizarre you just have to question their authenticity (drummer’s painting of a poo in a toilet – “my wife won’t let me show it in the living room”) and there must be an element of manipulation to create a story with such a well formed arc. But still, Anvil: The Story of Anvil is the funniest, most touching piece seen so far this year, with reality and a bottom-pleasing running time firmly on its side. It rocks in with a CF2, and will sit neatly next to the Tap on anyone’s DVD collection, although their proximity may cause a rift in reality that destroys us all. Small price to pay.

18th Feb 09 - Doubt

2009-02-19T16:39:00.001Z

The Oscars loom so everything is very Important right now, and everyone is Acting lots and lots. A film adapted from a play about churchy folk and child fiddling seems to tick many Oscar boxes, which often suggests a film is about to be either long, depressing, self indulgent, serious or overinflated nonsense. Amazingly Doubt trots over all such preconceptions and emerges fresh, riveting, amusing and thoroughly enjoyable.

Bringing in a whopping 4 actor-related Oscar noms, Doubt could have been a blank backdrop allowing people to act away while sacrificing a bit of the entertainment factor (see Revolutionary Road…) But its cast powerfully drive the story, a compelling tale of “who dunnit”, or rather “did he dunnit…” when a priest is suspected of messing with an altar boy’s holy vestibule.

Chief investigator is headmistress nun Meryl Streep (up for best actress) who cuts a terrifying figure of authority, channelling her Devil Wears Prada performance into something harsher yet warmer at the same time. Her character delivers the majority of the laughs, her crushing bluntness and devout determination to prove she is right being the central spike to the tale. It’s a perfect role for her to play, but she doesn’t completely steal the limelight. Ever brilliant Philip Seymour Hoffman (up for best actor) plays the priest in the spotlight, superbly mixing creepy (he definitely did it…) with sympathetic distress (he definitely didn’t do it…) The myriad of emotions crossing his large face could indicate any of the two outcomes, and you’ll have as much fun as Streep’s character in trying to decide if he’s telling the truth. Well, as much fun as you can have in investigating such dodgy things.

Taking up the supporting reigns is angel-faced Amy Adams (up for best supporting actress) whose naivety is beautiful, particularly when it cracks, and Viola Davis (also up for best supporting) playing the boy in question’s mother, and probably displaying the best bit of acting snot I have ever seen.

Though adapted from the stage, Doubt sidesteps the usual pitfalls (no one is trying to project across the stalls) but original playwright John Patrick Shanley (nommed for best screenplay) steps up to adapt and direct and perhaps takes some of his stage techniques a little too far. The inclusion of visual analogies is at times so blatant he may as well have had a character carry a load of heavy bags, then exclaim “oh woe is me, I have so much emotional baggage”. The crazy weather and unreliable light bulbs cut into the drama just a little too much, detracting from the already formidable subject matter which is filled with enough subtext to not need any more slathered on the screen.

Still, quibbles aside this was a fully enjoyable film, with superb performances and a simple yet completely effective plot. Points for mashing entertainment with potent drama, and extra points for letting me watch Streep and Hoffman size each other up. Doubt slinks in with a CF2, the first of the year. And check it out – I didn’t even make one single doubt-related pun. But I did mention a child’s holy vestibule. I’m not sure which is worse.

11th Feb 09 - Revolutionary Road

2009-02-18T13:49:00.002Z

Ah the joys of relationships. The flutter of the heart at the early meetings. The gentle expansion of feelings. The rosey complexion that comes from spending time with the one you love. And the slow decline into seething anger and resentment that makes you not only hate your partner with a fiery passion, but hate yourself and your entire life too.

That’s the picture Revolutionary Road paints for you. As Slumdog has been advertised as a “feel-good hit”, Rev Road could surely be summarised as a “kill-yourself punch”. It is essentially two hours watching people argue, and if you think it’s only the one dysfunctional couple in trouble, there are a few other examples of how miserable your life can become - either through forced and pained ignorance or bitter acceptance.

Of course there’s a little more to it than that. Titanic sweethearts Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio return to the screen together, perhaps showing what might have happened if she didn’t selfishly use all the door for a raft and they’d have been given the chance to be together. They play the feisty Wheelers, a couple who always planned not to get stuck in the family rut and mocked those that did, until several years down the line they realised they were rutted just as much as the next guy. Might I point out that their “rut” involves a nice house, nice neighbourhood, and two “nice” children (nice in the sense that they’re literally never around – seriously, where are their children?!) So this terrible woe they feel and bicker over is purely self indulgent. Boo hoo I’m in a nice house. Boo hoo we have reproduced and can afford to look after them. Boo bloody hoo.

You can sense the reasoning behind some of it, though. Life is, after-all, utterly depressing if you think about it too much. It’s the reason why things like money, houses and children are fairly useful – they’re things to strive for and distract from the thought that life is slowly ticking by. Unfortunately for the Wheelers, the penny has dropped that “this is it” and it has resulted in their relationship imploding. Watching the devastation that follows is both uncomfortable and hilarious, Kate and Leo throwing themselves into the slanging matches with gusto. Being an Oscar aimer, there’s lots and lots of Acting, particularly from Kate who sometimes takes a moment just to stare out the window and have a good ol’ Act for a while, before continuing on. Director Sam Mendes’ static approach makes it feel like you’re watching a play at times, which does work on some aspects (letting the explosive arguments speak for themselves) but creates a starched tone in others, distancing you from the characters.

Though the fire between the two leads is engrossing at times, there are a few niggles with this film. The plot is bone-dry, probably left that way to let lots of Acting in and comments on attitudes towards life etc, but with no real depth given to any of the characters it chunders along and leaves you with a bit of a “so what?” feel (if you can push aside the great feeling of despair it conjures). There is also a ridiculous character – just out of a mental hospital, and therefore happy to speak his mind - shoe-horned in to let the simpler audience members know what’s really going on in our leads minds. And the endless score, seemingly composed of only three piano notes, does start to grate after a while.

Still, superb performances mean it’s often riveting, if not dramatic, and will carry you towards the end with a building sense of dread at what’s to come. But how to score this has posed a problem – though it was finely acted, it’s difficult to recommend a “kill-yourself punch” to someone. Therefore it hits the “good film” jackpot of a CF0, but doesn’t gain any further points as I wouldn’t enthusiastically recommend it to anyone, unless I know someone who wants to mock people in relationships.

4th Feb 09 - Frost/Nixon

2009-02-11T12:42:00.002Z

It’s sometimes difficult to believe that journalism can be used for anything except pointing out the weight of semi-famous people or making us all panic about how much the public / environment / economy is in trouble and it’s all because of youths / the government / immigrants. But among all the shite, journalism (like this) can have a positive impact on the world, or make some sort of change. And so it can be seen when David Frost, flailing TV host watching his career trickle downhill after a flourish of success, unearthed an apology from Richard Nixon, a jowly president with unusual ideas about the law.

It’s an odd choice to make a film about a TV show that has already been aired, where the seminal moment of success has already been filmed and broadcast and relished. You can’t just replicate what’s already been on TV – why watch someone pretend to do an interview when you can watch the real thing? So Frost/Nixon, based on a play by Peter Morgan who also writes this screenplay, instead takes a look behind the scenes, charting the David/Goliath task ahead and attempting to get into each player’s mindset.

Michael Sheen and Frank Langella do superb jobs at embodying their counterparts, Sheen catching the determination and charm in the face of failure, and Langella mixing sparkling intelligence with crumbling defences. Of course, what the hell would I know – I wasn’t alive when these two went head-to-head. Still, it made for some great cinema, director Ron Howard choosing an almost documentary feel with the solid supporting cast (including the sturdy Sam Rockwell and Kevin Bacon) providing background interviews to set the scene, and in some cases explain what was going on. He also thankfully sidesteps the usual pitfall of stage-to-screen, injecting movement into the piece without losing the crackling dialogue.

You could almost hear Eye of the Tiger rumbling in the background as these two chaps came face to face, the ding-ding of the tape-change allowing their coaches time to pep-talk, and as with all sporting films there’s a training montage, then the baddie pummels the goodie, right up until the last minute epiphany that saves the day.

And yet… we all knew what was coming. Frost gets Nixon to admit everything on air – no spoiler there, it’s fact. And though Sheen does cut an impressive figure as the rogue Frost, how he makes a switch from slightly delusional talkshow host to suddenly getting one over the superiorly intelligent Nixon is barely dealt with, save a wedged in monologue from Nixon and a quick montage of people going to the library. Nixon himself, surely responsible for tremendous death and deception, is elevated to Boris status as a bumbling comic, cracking some of the more amusing lines of the film. Ha ha – he’s racist! And was in charge of America! Really funny.

So though it hooks you with some great performances and a premise that is fascinating and true, Frost/Nixon peters out when we reach the conclusion we already knew with no deep exploration into character, or flourishing finale to cap things off. It could almost be a BBC Saturday drama. One of those good ones, mind – the one-offs, or the three-parters. But a TV drama none-the-less, which is what it all started out as anyway. For its meaty drama Frost/Nixon gains an extra point, but for not really telling us anything we didn’t already know (even us yoofs who weren’t even alive then) it fails to go any higher than a CF1.

28th Jan 09 - Rachel Getting Married

2009-01-29T17:06:00.002Z

Another wedding film staring Anne Hathaway? Is this the same as last week? Does a robot-faced blonde show up to try and scupper lovely Anne’s wedding plans with hilarious japes and photo montages? I think not. In fact, our lovely Anne isn’t even dressing up as a princess. This time she is Acting. That’s right. She smokes cigarettes and has bad hair and cries. A lot. If she filmed Bride Wars after this then it explains a lot – Bride Wars must have been a relaxing break after staring in this one.

Hathaway plays Kym, a recovering drug addict released from rehab to attend her big sister’s wedding (that’d be Rachel). Before you can say “dysfunctional” the family arguments kick off big-style, as details of Kym’s turbulent and tragic past unfold and her rollercoaster moods ricochet off her sister’s temper. Director Jonathan Demme (Silence of the Lambs, Philadelphia) goes for a documentary approach, following characters around with hand-held cameras and allowing actors to talk over each other, giving it a very natural feel.

The actors excel in this realistic setting, Hathaway rightly Oscar nominated for her performance as the troubled, bratty and grieving Kym, while her co-stars (particularly Rosemarie DeWitt as Rachel) provide a blanket of emotion, either through jealous sister, mental father or withdrawn mother. When the drama crackles, it really crackles, with fierce battles erupting in between barbed comments and pained glances.

Unfortunately it all becomes a little too realistic. If you’ve ever been forced to watch someone’s wedding video you’ll know the tedium of the endless speeches, or the banality of watching other people enjoying the evening entertainment. For some reason, Demme decided that to add authenticity we should literally observe Rachel getting married, in all its uncut, unnecessary glory. And so we have a third of this film being an absorbing, well acted family drama. And two thirds someone’s poorly shot wedding video, before the editor has got to it.

Ultimately, despite the fancy pants way this film is put across, the plot is too thin. Drug addicts, family feuds, weddings… all seem a bit too familiar, and the flowery ending prompts the question “and the point was…?” It does get points for creating a sense of friendship and warmth, and for the first and only funny dishwasher loading scene, but overall it is one of those films where style takes over from substance and the film tucks itself up its own bottom too far to notice the plot slipping out the back of the trousers. So to speak. It’s proven Hathaway can move away from the Bride Wars slop, but let’s hope she can pick something with a little more weight behind it next time. Rachel gets married, but does so with a CF-1. Sorry to spoil her big day.

24th Jan 09 - Role Models

2009-01-29T15:29:00.002Z

In the rules of watching comedy, it’s always best to stick to the mantra “never watch comedies featuring children or animals”. Chances are they’ll be annoying, either with a gang of kerrrrazee kids causing havoc for some befuddled adult, or a doggy doing kerrrrazee things like humping legs or pulling people off chairs by running away. Hilarious! If you’re seven years old. And stupid.

Role Models does feature children, but easily side steps the usual child-comedy pitfalls by having its children say stuff like “fuck you”. Neat! It’s co-written by Paul Rudd, the sardonic best friend as seen in Knocked Up, 40 Year Old Virgin, Anchorman and, um, Romeo & Juliet. His incredibly dry humour litters the script, with quips laid out so quickly and flatly they’re often easy to miss. Mixed with naughty toilet humour it makes the majority of Role Models into a deliciously dirty comedy, more so when it features lots of kiddy winks.

Bad boys Danny (Rudd) and Wheeler (a nicely buff Seann William Scott) are forced to carry out community service, being “best friends” for some pretty weird children. There’s Augie, a bespectacled fantasy obsessed teen played by Christopher “McLovin” Mintz-Plasse who is now cemented as the go-to for your general nerdy needs. And Ronnie (Bobb’e J. Thompson – yes, that’s a deliberate hyphen in the middle of Bobbe. He must be pretentious), a foul-mouthed, boobies obsessed young ‘un, who frankly steals the show but could also be verging on a horrendous ethnic stereotype.

There’s a great supporting cast, particularly Jane Lynch as the insane child centre leader, granted playing a character she’s played many times before, but hell she plays it bloody well. There are also some amusing set pieces, such as the camping trip, and Paul Rudd’s bleak take on life always raises a smirk (“It's not that I don't like you, I just don't like to eat with other people”). But – and I’m sure you could detect a ‘but’ coming here – Role Models starts off strong and then suddenly twists into something, well, a bit weak. From dirty adult humour to suddenly a sports-movie-esque quest, with a swift focus on Augie’s role playing battle club type thing. Everyone comes together to help defeat the evil “king” in a big, mock battle scene and… hang on. Weren’t we watching a good comedy on two guys, one a women-obsessed lads lad, and one a dishevelled 30-something depressed at life? Weren’t we laughing at how much they didn’t really care, and how twisted their approach was to looking after two kids? Since when did we care about a fantasy role-playing battle? Since when did it turn into a mushy romance?

Alas, its decline into mediocre battle / romance slosh dampens the comic edge and catapults any real character arc into blando “ooo I do love my woman really” or “um… I haven’t changed at all and was just here for the ruder bits”. Add a couple of unnecessary boob shots and you’ve tainted it with teen boy humour ala “Sex Drive” rather than the suggested quality comedy stock expected from Rudd. As such, Role Models does raise a fair few titters, but by featuring some real life titties and having a plot that goes tits-up it slumps down to a CF0, clinging to a recommendation because it’s a fun Saturday night filler, but failing to raise enough of a chortle to be a great comedy.

21st Jan 09 - Bride Wars

2009-01-25T18:19:00.001Z

There is a reason why I chose to see this film. I’m not going to go into it, but basically I needed a short film that would take my mind off things without wearing me out mentally. So, in theory, this was the perfect choice. On a normal day this would be a bad choice. Very bad. It has everything I generally dislike: People fawning over weddings claiming they’re the “happiest day in your life”, which is a bold and slightly alarming claim – you mean the ensuing fifty years or so are not going to be as good as today? Nothing will beat sitting in a hot room on small chairs with an Abba mega-mix playing? I may as well kill myself now.

It also has weird photo montages coupled with sage narrative. A plot so thinly constructed a five-year-old could predict what was going to happen (well, maybe not just any five-year-old, but perhaps myself at five, although I was unnaturally clever at that age of course). And it’s set in New frickin’ York. On ordinary days I would have avoided this like Primark on a Saturday afternoon. But I was after something light, and Bride Wars definitely fit the bill without causing too much offence or vomit. I even laughed once, possibly twice, and smiled for at least 50% of the film. A winner!

Well. The leads appear to have a bit of fun with this, but without a huge heap of effort, Hathaway (avoiding my hatred list by being a year older and not smug) winning in the human stakes – that is, being the most sympathetic and also being capable of making actual facial expressions – while Hudson glowers around in the background and raises an eyebrow when describing herself as having put on weight when, quite clearly, she isn’t able to open her mouth wide enough to eat anyway.

The cat fights are fairly fun, but we’ve seen more zing in the few girl spats on episodes of Friends, and the wedding comedy is forever overshadowed by the as yet unbeatable Wedding Singer. As such, nothing particularly shines, the film instead passing by like the consumption of a Milky Way; a not unpleasant but wholly unremarkable sugar injection. No recommendation here, but no real anger either, so a slide into CF-1.

14th Jan 09 - Slumdog Millionaire

2009-01-22T20:08:00.001Z

Dubbed “the feel good hit of the decade”, Slumdog has been gathering awards and nominations like a squirrel in a nut factory, and caused a stampede of easily swayed pundits to go and see it, expecting a nice, feel good piece on an Indian kid winning Who Wants to be a Millionaire. According to the posters he punches the air in excitement and a woman in yellow falls in love with him, and everyone goes away happy and elated. Feel good!

Slumdog opens with some light torture before moving on to abject poverty, senseless and brutal death, and child exploitation and mutilation. Feel good! It uses the Millionaire questions as a clever way of tracking back through slumdog Jamal’s life, perhaps suggesting that missing an education on a variety of abstract topics does not make you an idiot – life is your education. Nice thought. But Slumdog moves away from that when it’s clear why Jamal went on the programme in the first place, resulting in an overly schmaltzy ending that’s more corny than feel good.

But Danny Boyle’s hyperactive direction mixed with a thumping soundtrack carries you along for most of the film, and you will care what happens to Jamal (a coolly collected Dev Patel) and his older brother (looking weirdly like Michael Jackson in his Thriller days). The story grips mainly during the flashback scenes, following Jamal’s torturous childhood, and it’s only when the past catches up with the present that the foot comes off the accelerator a little, and we are steered towards cheese land.

Still, it’s a nice blend of the Bollywood with the Boyle, whose diversity is impressive given his last film was a claustrophobic horror in space. Perhaps not quite as monumental as the hype machine would have you believe, and very poorly marketed as some feelgood brit-flick (it’s much deeper than that tag would suggest) Slumdog is punchy, original and emotive, slamming you from poo jokes to murder as swiftly as the questions change on Millionaire.

It notches up an extra point for its colourful exuberance but doesn’t really climb any higher for that whiff of cheese, so slumming in neatly with a CF1. Probably the Juno of this Oscar year. Without the pregnancy. Or the strong female character. Or… oh you know what I mean, though.

7th Jan 09 - Changeling

2009-01-13T13:02:00.001Z

A new year and back to the familiar tone of January and February films in the run up to Oscar season. I.e., long and with lots of “acting”. Changeling was out last year of course, but because all films seem to be half a day long right now, this one won the viewing war by being on at the most convenient time. Yes, I am THAT professional.

So, Mr Eastwood is back behind the camera to direct another leading lady to potential Oscar stardom, replacing Swank with Jolie and boxing for, err, motherhood. He takes the true story of a mother’s fight against the utterly corrupt LAPD back in the 20s, who were so keen to hide their mistakes that they refused to believe they had returned the wrong missing son, despite his mother’s insistence, and instead had her shut away in a mental hospital. Bloody hell! Their attitudes and actions are flabbergasting, prompting amazed laughter in places, which given the subject matter (missing, and most likely, deceased child) is probably a bit in bad taste. Sorry.

Angelina wallops in her performance, showing the distress, confusion and sheer grief that her real-life counter part must have felt. It is, however, a little off-putting that she resembles Skeleton Jack from Nightmare Before Christmas, her willowy frame increasing her vulnerability but unusually large lips and eyes making her a bit frightening too. Much of the time she screams “I want my son”, or “he’s not my son”, and the rest she stares wide-eyed, lips slightly parted in a forlorn pout and a bit of acting-snot glistening in her nostrils. But hell, she does a stirling job and must surely get a nomination at the very least.

The first couple of hours of this film were surprisingly very good (I’m not a massive fan of Eastwood). Gripping, emotional, shocking and nicely paced, the film builds to an almost devastating finale, reigning in the CF points… and then it carries on. For another 40 minutes. The points that could have been summed up in a montage or even those little bits of blurb at the end are shown in full, unnecessary detail, dampening the power of the film and making you wonder when on earth the story will finish. It’s such a shame, because the film seems to naturally build up brilliantly, only to level off and peter out. That’s not to say it doesn’t peter out with a bit of a tear in the eye, but it means a film that could have been “great” becomes a film that is “pretty good”.

Still, for Jolie’s presence and the power of a shocking and compelling true story, Changeling is a fine film and a good way to start the year. It lost points for a lack of control towards the end, and as such comes in at a neat CF1. OK Oscar fodder – what else you got?

The Cinemafool Review of 2008

2009-01-01T14:42:00.002Z

Who can believe another year has gone by? It seems like only a year ago I was writing the review of 2007, and here I am again looking back over the year and creating the much anticipated top 10, as well as the educational “turkeys”, which should hopefully steer you clear of the cowpats along the way.

Looking back it’s been a belter of a year, throwing out some spectacular films (particularly in the months of February and July it seems) and proving Cinemafool’s dedication by beating last year’s record with 45 new films seen at the cinema. Because you have short attention spans, I will waste no further time and get straight into the first section: what all films aspire to reach, the Cinemafool top 10 of 2008, presented to you in chronological order:

The Top 10 of 2008

12th Jan 08 - Lust, Caution
Rating: CF3
What: Ang Lee’s foray into 1940s Chinese spy drama… with plenty of , errr, “tucking.”
I said then: Gripping plot, scintillating character interaction and an unusual blend of, well, lust and caution.
I say now: Cruelly ignored by the Oscars when this ticked all the boxes – fabulous acting, period setting, beautiful relationship development. Perhaps the porn-eqsue sex throughout may have put the Oscar crew off, though…
I also said: I couldn’t help but notice the audience for this film was made up of an interesting number of boys in their late teens

6th Feb 08 - No Country for Old Men
Rating: CF3
What: The Coen brothers trot in with a meaty award-laden film full of violence and a hunt for that good ol’ bag of money.
I said then: Powerful, thrilling and chock full of memorable performances.
I say now: Rewards further on a second viewing and now sitting in the Cinemafool DVD collection, No Country is the Coens on full form, even though I still haven’t been able to pay attention to that closing speech.
I also said: I’ve just mixed a landscape analogy with a pie analogy

15th Feb 08 - Cloverfield
Rating: CF2
What: Big monster attacks New York (for a change) but this time they’ve given one of the running, screaming extras a camcorder.
I said then: Chaotic, dazzling and down-right frightening…an exciting B-movie done in an entirely new angle.
I say now: The Blair-Witch style cameras have been done to death the rest of this year, but Cloverfield was at the forefront, and this is still a little nugget of shaky terror worth catching.
I also said: You could only get motion sickness if you felt queasy with simple things like rollercoasters, banana flavoured beer, or just generally moving around.

20th Feb 08 - The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Rating: CF3
What: Real life tale of magazine editor suffering stroke, resulting in only being able to move one eyelid. In French! All the hallmarks of something depressing and a bit rah. But…
I said then: This film is both uplifting and upsetting, beautifully shot and acted, altogether emotionally gratifying.
I say now: Not half as rah or depressing as it sounds, this was one of the most moving films of the year and also one of the most creatively shot. Don’t be put off – this should be a definite on your film lists.
I also said: I’ve just bought myself a coffee percolator. It makes noises like Darth Vader underwater and has made me a tad hyper.

23rd Feb 08 - There Will Be Blood
Rating: CF3
What: P. T. Anderson’s whopper about an oil man, with Oscar winning performance from Day Lewis.
I said then: A fascinating character study and an epic tale of greed… you can easily get lost in the depths of this film, with its substantial running time, measured pace and unknown plot directions.
I say now: Cor blimey this is a good film. You have to set aside an entire evening to truly appreciate, but, well, cor blimey this is good.
I also said: I’d even stoop to watching him in a period drama with Knightley, as long as he spent the majority of the film talking in a thick accent about how rubbish she is.

9th April 08 - The Orphanage
Rating: CF2
What: Spanish horror set in a haunted orphanage… mummy!
I said then: Chills with an emotional core... Don your best pair of brown trousers and go watch.
I say now: One of the scariest flicks of the year that still retains a sense of dignity and, well, plot, The Orphanage is one to watch but not with young children who might walk into the room. With pillow cases over their heads.
I also said: Scary enough to make me turn on every light in my house that evening

16th July 08 – The Mist
Rating: CF2
What: Frank Darabont’s done Shawshank, he’s done Green Mile – now it’s time for gloomy monster carnage. Of course…
I said then: Richly satisfying drama meets horror. Oh, and it’s fucking depressing.
I say now: Angry Darabont encapsulates everything Stephen King’s original story had to say about mankind, and throws a bit more welly in to boot. Dark, absorbing, and mighty considering it’s essentially “monsters in the mist”.
I also said: Come out of The Mist and you’ll probably want to sit in your bedroom and poke yourself in the eye in despair.

23rd July 08 - Wall-E
Rating: CF3
What: It’s a garbage-collecting robot and his cockroach companion on a desolate planet. What could be better!
I said then: Refreshing, original, beautifully animated and superbly plotted.
I say now: Pixar shows everyone how it’s done with a heart-warming tale and the most endearing robots ever created.
I also said: Its message is as blunt as a donkey punch

30th July 08 - The Dark Knight
Rating: CF3
What: Nolan and Bale return with the man of bat and a media storm following a career-defining performance mixed with upsetting career-ending circumstances.
I said then: Nolan weaves an impressive tale, with plenty of stonking action, suspenseful lead-ups, dramatic interchanges bristling with danger, and the occasional flash of humour.
I say now: Let’s face it, this has set the bar for superhero flicks. It’ll be interesting to see how the hotly anticipated Watchmen fares against it this year.
I also said: A clown that wants to slice your cheeks and ram a pencil in your face. Come on kids, it’s fun!

14th Sep 08 - Burn After Reading
Rating: CF2
What: The Coens are back again with a spy comedy and a host of their favourite faces.
I said then: Funny, fascinating and fully digestible on first-viewing.
I say now: Double whammy for the Coens, offering up a sizeable main course with No Country, and following up with this sharp and sassy dessert.
I also said: I’m still smug in New York. Check me out. Smug.

2008: The Losers

Not too many stinkers this year, but just a couple I have to mention before the big turkey:

2nd Jan 08 - I'm Not There
Rating: CF-1
I said: "This film is the equivalent of someone taking all the ingredients necessary to make the best cake in the world, putting them in a big bowl, mixing them all together, but then by-passing the oven that will unite them into a cohesive sponge and instead using the mixture to write a big, obscure Bob Dylan quote all over the wall."

3rd Sep 08 - Babylon A.D
Rating: CF-3
I said: “Bloody hell.”
“My only guess is the film makers assume their target audience has stopped paying attention by this point.”
“It was shit. A big steaming shit. Lazily created to sit on our screens for a while before slowly sliding off into the trough of shit films that end up on 3-for-2 offers.”

31st Dec 08 - The Day the Earth Stood Still
Rating: CF-3
I said: "Watch the trailer for the cool stadium shot, then just look at a powerpoint slide with the phrase “save the Earth – recycle” and you’ll have the same effect, only more enjoyable."

The Turkey of 2008

Despite the lowest mark being awarded to Babylon Zoo – sorry, “A.D” - the mantle of turkey of the year has to go to another film. One that was highly anticipated but ultimately annoyed, befuddled and confused. I’m talking, of course, about:

25th May 08 - Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Rating: CF-2
I said: “Three words: What. The. Fuck.”
“A never-ending car chase interspersed with everything and anything that could exist in the real world (or not).”
“Brings nothing new to the table except a lump of crusty bread that we’ve already seen before, only now it looks like it’s picked up every bit of fluff off the floor and some space dust along with it.”
“No more sherbet, Lucas. Your mother knows what she’s talking about.”

End on a high

Because I don’t want to leave the year with the bitter taste of insane Lucas in my mouth, let’s throw a few special mentions out. 2008 was the year of films that looked rubbish but turned out to be pretty good. Iron Man and Hulk gave a tantalising view of what’s to come from the new Marvel studio, In Bruges demonstrated Colin Farrell’s immense eyebrow acting abilities, Lars and the Real Girl gave soft smiles, Rambo shrieks of unintentional laughter, and Transporter 3 proved there was a reason for living.
There are some exciting films on the horizon for the new year, and an ever challenging new record to beat (45 is the target for 09). Who knows what’s in store. Shall we go and see…?

31st Jan 08 - The Day the Earth Stood Still

2008-12-31T12:38:00.000Z

In a last ditch effort to beat last year’s Cinemafool record of 44 films, we squeezed in one final cinema trip before the last seconds ticked away on the arbitrary marking of time that is the new year. Throwing caution to the wind, the only film that didn’t involve children’s stories being brought to life was a Keanu Reaves remake, and though it had the whiff of potential poo, what better way to see out the year than with a bit of Armageddon? It turns out there are many better ways to see out the year, or spend two hours of your life. Poking a trifle with a fork. Lying face down on the floor. Watching Pirates of the… well, ok. Not quite that.

But it’s surprising just how bad The Day the Earth Stood Still really could be. On the trailer there were cool money shots that suggested full scale destruction. We could ignore ghost-faced wax-work model Keanu plodding around in the background because lorries were being vaporised! Whole stadiums demolished! Who knew what other death and devastation could await! Well. The answer is, frustratingly, none. This is the most sedentary Armageddon piece I have ever seen. The earth is at threat but our only connection to the world is eyebrow-laden Jennifer Connolly, her token son and a handful of army cut-outs, including the portly government representative (a shamefully wasted Kathy Bates). Who cares if the earth is destroyed? Blast it away, was all I could think, as long as you do it with style. But no. They couldn’t even offer me that. Big spheres all around the world. Massive ass-kicking robot. But what, ultimately, is the method of destruction? Dust. A big cloud of metal dust heading for New frickin’ York. Whoop-de-do.

This is the day time stood still as the plot meanders towards a damp flannel finale and your tolerance towards moronic Keanu lessens the more he stares blankly at the camera, perhaps wondering which film he’s supposed to be doing or what time his tea is. Connolly tries her hardest, widening her eyes and staring into lights at every opportunity, but really no one cares. The only reason to watch this sort of film is to see the earth get blown to pieces - there is no other desired outcome in this genre - but this film stoutly refuses to play ball. Sod action and suspense, let’s have a trip to McDonalds and a nice conversation instead.

No disaster flick has yet to beat the monstrously fun Independence Day, a film littered with everything you need in the genre – likeable characters, mega earth destruction, and a rousing speech with drum rolls tinkling in the background. The Day the Earth Stood still is like taking Independence Day and only showing the opening half hour where nothing really happens. But without any form of tension whatsoever. Watch the trailer for the cool stadium shot, then just look at a powerpoint slide with the phrase “save the Earth – recycle” and you’ll have the same effect, only more enjoyable.

A pants way to finish the year, the only way to cheer yourself up is by reading the Cinemafool review of 2008 and seeing the veritable picnic basket filled with film goodies that we’ve been treated to over the last twelve months. The Day the Earth Stood Still, meanwhile, earns a paltry CF-3, and a place on the turkeys list. I’m now making the sound of a raspberry, which I tried typing out but couldn’t get the vowels right. You know the sound I mean though. Think of this film, make that sound, and go rent a DVD instead.

21st Dec 08 - Yes Man

2008-12-29T14:02:00.001Z

“Yes” is a useful word, particularly in response to such questions as “would you like a piece of cake?” “Would you like a free holiday?” or “Is Cinemafool the most stunningly intelligent web site you’ve ever read?”

When Danny Wallace employed the word to every single thing he was asked, it took him on a journey of wonder and, well, what I imagine was self discovery and new horizons – someone borrowed the book off me before I finished it and I haven’t seen it since (no hint there for its return…) Mr. Hollywood thought this concept was genius, threw away the non-fiction aspect and added Jim Carey. From the trailers this film walked a tightrope between guffaw-filled pre-Christmas joy, or a big sloshing bucket of steamy shite.

Thankfully the bucket remains mostly empty, Carey pulling out another Liar Liar-esque performance with a stable comic creation spattered with familiar Carey madness, particularly when he was introduced to the product-placement wonder of Red Bull. There’s a nice message about not wasting your life away by refusing all new experiences and allowing yourself to plod on towards the end in a boring and miserable way. Plus Rhys Darby from Flight of the Concords adds fresh quirk, mixed with a few gross-out moments (saying yes to the advances of a little old lady was particularly disturbing).

Unfortunately there is a little bit of shite in the bottom of the bucket, and that’s largely down to the lazy choice to fall in line with similar comedies, with cliché after cliché in terms of the strange but beautiful love interest (Zooey Deschanel) who must follow the usual track of falling in love – misunderstanding – fall out – get back together in dramatic gesture, plus the side-kick best mates, one quite good looking, the other a bit of a weird nerd. The yes situations do provide some originality, including some neat touches with Zooey’s random band, or the Harry Potter party, but ultimately the question becomes “can you see what’s coming?” and the answer, obviously, is “yes”.

It’s a shame that a high concept non-fiction (ish) book has been turned into more of a run-of-the-mill Saturday night comedy than something fresher, wittier, or just a bit funnier, but if you’re going to churn out a familiar old flick then it’s at least thankful they’ve picked the Carey to head it up. His energy is enough to carry the film, and though it can’t match the greatness of the Ventura, it at least matches up to, if not surpasses, the likes of Liar Liar. Which isn’t exactly the most devastating of compliments, to be honest. Still, it passes the time, raises a chuckle, and may even make you reconsider some life choices, so for that it gains the recommended CF0. A good one to sit in front of when you’ve said yes to one too many mince pies.

10th Dec 08 - Transporter 3

2008-12-16T09:06:00.001Z

It’s one of life’s greatest conundrums. Alongside thought provokers such as why is a teaspoon always left in the washing up bowl, how can you lose one sock in every wash, and who on earth actually likes Pirates of the Caribbean 2, there is one mystery that is yet to be solved. Transporter 2: is it intentionally funny? Did the makers genuinely believe that the best way to take a bomb off the underside of a car was to flip it upside down mid-air, and use a crane hook? Did they honestly think a jet-ski vs bus chase was plausible? Or the best way to survive a plane nose-diving into the sea was by leaping towards the tail-end?

The thing is, if they tried to make it tongue-in-cheek, it would fail. It’s not funny enough and such spoof genres have been done to death. Transporter 2 will go down in Cinemafool history as one of the most enjoyable films ever, because it seems to be genuine and yet is utterly, utterly stupid. The news of a third instalment was the source of much excitement, and it is with great pleasure that I can announce it is indeed stupid – perhaps not quite as stupid as two, but there are new conundrums thrown into the mix that make it just as special.

Plot-wise, Jason Statham is Frank Martin, a no-questions Transporter (he drives things places) who can also happily handle a fight against twenty massive blokes. There are some foreign mwuhahaha baddies who have something vaguely to do with being bad to the environment, which instantly makes Transporter 3 contemporary and, like, issues-laden. But a new twist features Frank tagged with an irremovable bracelet, which means if he gets too far away from his beloved Audi (buy one today!) he’ll explode! So Frank has to deal with the cruel beasts who came up with this rather elaborate and, if the plot is considered in any detail, completely unnecessary device, all the while trying to keep his female passenger safe and figure out what the hell is going on.

The fresh conundrum comes in when trying to consider who this film is aimed at. It has all the hallmarks of a big, brash action, with Frank beating people up on wires, driving really fast (who knew tilting your body weight would result in your car going on two wheels!) and lots of big explosions. Transporter 2 had all that, plus a female lead who spent literally all of her time in underwear, aside from the bits when she was naked. Pretty obvious who we’re aiming at there – pre-pubescent boys too dumb to realise the film is nonsense, and people like me who relish the nonsense and have a good old chuckle for 90 minutes. But the third instalment… here we have one female lead who retains her clothing throughout, meanwhile our beloved Frank gets half naked not once, not twice, but three times.

Now, I’m not complaining. Jason Statham can be semi-naked all the time if he so wishes – I would in fact encourage it. The fight scene that involved him taking off various items of clothing, one-by-one, resulted in me actually shouting “take your pants off” at the screen, like a menopausal monster at a hen party. But the main demographic who enjoys such naff action films is not the same demographic you’d imagine lapping up a strip-tease from the butch hero. So “who the hell is Transporter 3 aimed at” could well be the title of a PhD, and if anyone wishes to give me £20k a year I’d gladly go off and re-watch the strip scene over and over and over in order to try and find out.

Seriously.

Anyway, if you smirk at the thought of a car successfully driving off a bridge on to a moving train, then this is the film for you. If you roll your eyes and ask for your money back when someone manages to leap feet first through the passenger window of a moving car, then you shouldn’t watch this. And should also try finding a sense of humour.

So, not exactly a comedy, but still managing to elicit shrieks of laughter, Transporter 3 manages to be both a parody and a straight-player, a gaudy action flick and a piece of homoerotic fantasy worth analysing further. Jason Statham has stumbled into an absolute corker and if you’re the sort of person who’d enjoy this sort of ride, the Transporter3 is the right way to get you there. For sheer enjoyment factor, Transporter 3 gets itself a CF1. Bring on Crank 2, is all I can say.

3rd Dec 08 - What Just Happened?

2008-12-06T18:51:00.001Z

Who knew how much trouble a dog and a beard could cause. Granted, if you applied some imagination you could come up with all sorts of scenarios – “stray bit of sausage caught in beard attracts big scary dog”, or “excited puppy spoils child’s Christmas by running away with Santa’s fake beard”. Perhaps there’s a film somewhere in those thoughts…

Anyway, the original question should have added “for a Hollywood producer”, because that’s the focus of this film. Based on the exasperated book by producer Art Linson , What Just Happened looks at two weeks in the life of big-time producer Ben, played by a calmy collected Robert De Niro. Poor Ben has to deal with beards and dogs, and neither of them make his life easy. In fact, they sort of ruin it, leading to the question of the film. It’s fascinating to see such bizarre power-plays and politics, but also ever so slightly depressing when you see how money can easily beat any form of artistry. Or facial hair.

So we have a sort of behind the scenes film, latched on to Ben’s complicated lifestyle as a double ex-husband and father. There are some neat touches, with Ben listening to his latest film’s soundtrack which cleverly matches various pieces of action in his life, and a cracking performance from Bruce Willis playing himself as an angry, bear-like buffoon, crashing around sets and intimidating the staff.

But the struggle with this was in figuring out its tone. Almost slap-stick comedy mixes with abstract moments, sitting against a fairly straight realist backdrop. See, you can’t put it up there like it’s a expose of life behind the camera, keeping soundtrack to car stereos and following characters around docu-style, then throw in a random arty close-up of M&Ms or a superfast edit. Well, you can. And it’s never a bad thing to play with styles. But here it seems to jar, making it difficult to settle into. Just as you’re getting used to watching Ben’s issue-laden relationship with his ex-wife, you suddenly get John Turturro’s flamboyant comedy acting. Separately either would be great, but together they just don’t mesh.

De Niro coasts, playing it undoubtedly well but not particularly tested, and plot-wise the after-effects of “what just happened” would probably have offered more room for exploration than just charting the events that create the thorn in Ben’s side. Still, it’s an interesting peak into the torturous world of a producer, and the dog scene is darkly fabulous. Not much of a comedy, more a wry journey with the occasional titter, What Just Happened is an odd-one but saves itself with its original – and true - subject matter, and therefore slinks in with a recommended CF0.

29th Nov 08 - Body of Lies

2008-11-30T09:37:00.000Z

Body of Lies is both a secret service spy-type thriller and a startlingly real and relevant punch in the face from Ridley Scott.

Secret service spy-type wise, you have Leonardo DiCaprio running around the Far East, hiding under baseball caps, chasing after people while shouting down a phone, with uber-technology backing him up in the form of big-ass satellites tracking his every move and a Brains-esque techie who sits in his weird house and types random shit into computers to make them do clever stuff.

Punch in the face wise, you have suicide bombers, fundamentalist arse-holes spreading the hatred, fat American officials making decisions that disregard various human lives, and violence that is brutally realistic. Take all your Saw-shite-tripe and shove it in the bin, because the only way to truly rattle an audience with torture is to avoid gore-exploitation but just show the stark reality of such practices. Oh, and use a hammer.

This is a bumper film spanning just over two hours (but feeling a little like four) and taking you to unexpected and, in cases like the hammer, unwelcome places too. DiCaprio is of course excellent, bearded up and freakily sporting brown eyes instead of blue. He melds the action (running, fighting, shouting) with the drama, the poor chap having many and various injury makeup sessions throughout the course of his adventures. Taking on the role of fat American official is Russell Crowe, and even when literally the majority of his scenes are spent on the phone, his intelligent but morally flawed Ed Hoffman is a great character, the harsh grey to DiCaprio’s softer brown, the comedy interlude if you like. Well, until you realise people like him are probably in similar positions in real life, making similarly dodgy decisions. And then that punch in the face happens again.

But for all the points gained in a great cast, thrilling set pieces and some definite brain fodder to chew on, Body of Lies slumps slightly because at times it seems to last for ever. New characters are introduced late and new relationships forged three quarters of the way through, leaving you with no clue of the plot’s direction or upcoming end point. Perhaps that is a good thing in a way, and applause to Ridley Scott for crafting such an elegantly long piece of work. But unfortunately when the bottom-seat-shuffle starts to happen, the CF points start to fall.

However, the points had plenty of room to fall, as for the majority of its running time this film is riveting, either in plot, character, or lip bitingly real moments of terror. DiCaprio and Crowe are backed up by a super-cool Mark Strong (Rocknrolla), and with a cast like that and a deftly capable man behind the camera, you canny go wrong. This is an action thriller with a brain. A message piece that doesn’t ram it in your face, or cast too many lob-sided views. It’s relevant, entertaining. A bit like if the news was presented as a drama, but with some nice bits in between to lighten it up now and then. Body of Lies gets a solid CF2, missing a higher mark only for dragging its heels a teeny bit too long. Go see it. Take a cushion. And don’t play with hammers.

26th Nov 08 - Choke

2008-11-28T09:33:00.000Z

After a woeful gap in cinema visits, what better way to welcome back the big screen than with a film about a sex addict who thinks he could be the son of Jesus. Super. Based on the book by Chuck Palahniuk, whose name I can’t pronounce let alone spell, Choke is the mashed up tale of Victor, a chap who works as an actor in a historical museum, has an addiction to sex, chokes himself in restaurants in order to scam would-be saviours, and tries to look after his mentally ill mother who resides in a hospital and doesn’t recognise her own son.

If you think that’s a lot of rather disparate components then, well, you’d be right. But this is from the author of Fight Club, whose bleak look on the human condition traipses through the majority of his work, often featuring flawed leading characters that we none-the-less begin to identify with. Take Victor – on the surface he’s a pig, a liar, a cheat, and happy to hump any woman that moves. But with flash-backs to his rather unusual upbringing, some touching moments where he tries to connect with his fading mother, and a charming warmth brought to the role by Sam Rockwell, you will find yourself rooting for Victor. Even when he can’t stop imagining the size of every woman’s boobs.

Alongside Rockwell is Kelly Macdonald, flouting a slightly odd American accent (she’s Scottish) and bringing some sweetness to the proceedings, but stealing the show is Anjelica Huston as Victor’s mother. Though current Orange adverts mock her crazier side it’s still fair to say she doesn’t half play a good mental, whether it’s as a dolled up and dangerous lady in the flash-backs, or an increasingly frail old woman in a hospice.

Like Fight Club there is a streak of sardonic humour (the funniest rape scene ever, believe it or not) and because of the subject matter, a heck of lot of dirty humour too (many boobs and flashes of rude, err, positions). But Fight Club’s edgy nature was matched perfectly by Fincher’s erratic direction, turning Chuck’s work into one of the best films in Cinemafool’s experience. Choke is directed by Clark Gregg (an actor, and his first time behind the camera) with a jaunty backing track as Victor trots through the scenes, dampening the fizz and crackle of some of the dialogue or sentiments delivered.

There’s no doubt this is a good film. Original, funny, engaging with interesting comment on how we might choose to live our lives. But there are a few holes, certain relationships not being given full time to develop, and certain plot strands popping up and then disappearing where you feel the novel would have continued. It’s no Fight Club, but it stands tall among some of the shite out today (too many chirpy sing-a-longs for my liking…) and so gains a CF2. Welcome back cinema. Thanks for having me.

31st Oct 08 - Quantum of Solace

2008-10-31T09:01:00.001Z

Back in 2006 Casino Royale reinvented Bond much in the same way that Nolan breathed life into the Batman franchise. Both were drowning under the cheesy weight of their predecessors and both benefited mightily from a darker, edgier take, with Daniel Craig storming into Bond’s shoes and creating a character who was more dangerous, more damaged, and more interesting. Plus, as mentioned several times in the Cinemafool review (Nov 2006) he also had lovely thighs.

Second time round Bond had the same challenge as Batman – gone was the shock of seeing a new take on a familiar character, and up were the expectations on where they’d go next. Nolan trumped himself with Dark Knight, building on his foundations and moving further into the new direction with startling results. Bond, however… To put it one way, Bond went to the shops for bread and cheese but got distracted by the magazines and forgot his initial purpose. Bond ended up having dry toast instead of the cheese toastie he so craved. Bond was disappointed.

It starts off reasonably promising. A slightly chaotic car advert / road chase (which could have had way more impact if the editing had slowed down a little so we could tell what on earth was happening), followed by moody torture and an ooo baddy moment, followed by second chase sequence, only this one’s on foot. Bond is still angry after the ending to Casino Royale (and I am too frankly – it being 20 minutes too long) so he stalks around a lot looking moody with M trotting after him, tutting. So far, so ‘slightly silly but done well’ Bond. But as the plot meanders off into a string of “go here, meet them, chase with transport, fight! Wear new outfit. Go over there, meet that person, run away on transport! Fight. Change outfit,” the novelty of an angry Bond begins to wear off, and he becomes not so much angry as just a bloke who goes places and chases people.

The Big Bad is just some guy who sells stuff and manipulates people and, well, who knows – the plot was either too complicated or not interesting enough for me to bother to pay attention. The big evil master plan isn’t all that evil or master, really, and its connection to Bond’s quest for solace from his hurting heart is flimsy, leaving an ending that’s more “huh…that it?” than “wow” or “ooo he used a naughty word.” Lady interest either lacks the romance or is easily throw-away. And – biggest flaw in the world – not once, not one single solitary time did his lovely thighs come out. No short shorts, no water scene. No lovely thighs. Not a quantum of thigh. Rubbish!

The usual lovely Craig can’t even save this, his brown-beaten moody glare feels quashed somehow, the initial flickers of characterisation from the first are fizzled out. Though he still packs a Bourne-like punch in the one-to-one combat, and his prickly confrontations with Dench, superb as ever as the all powerful M, are good fun to watch, this is a very subdued Bond. Quantum of Solace is not a Bond of old –sexy, suave, silly – nor is it the promised new Bond from the trailer, the one who stalks over the horizon with a big fuck-off gun. This is a blah-Bond. A bland-Bond. A forgot-the-cheese-for-my-toastie-Bond.

With an irritation already ingrained since every single product known to man is clinging to Bond’s feet (phones, cameras, cars, confectionary, computer games, credit cards… fuck off!) and an indifference to the Bond genre to start with, this was already fighting a slightly inclined battle. But having promised a refreshing take in Casino Royale, this next step is backwards and slightly to the side, with less wows, less plot and absolutely no thighs. Though more Bond-happy fans might find a little more to enjoy, Cinemafool (whose opinion is of more importance) gives only a small quantum of praise, and therefore a CF-2. Bad Bond. Go put your shorts on and we might forgive you.

15th Oct 08 - Rocknrolla

2008-10-23T14:49:00.001Z

Ah good old Guy Ritchie. Back in the 90s he gave us gangster-cool, a wave of swift talking swaggering cock-er-nies who dabble in crime and are dapper at coming up with sharp put-downs. Lock Stock was a roaring success, Snatch was a pretty good romp, but then it all went downhill. “A Guy Ritchie film” stopped being something cool, and was more “Swept Away”.

But with Rocknrolla Ritchie has clawed his way back to Lock Stock heights. This is punchy, cheeky fun, Ritchie almost creating his own genre that consists of numerous characters, several plot strands that overlap and interlink in slightly unbelievable ways, a cockney narrator, a contemporary soundtrack, and jazzy bits of direction. To explain the plot would take forever, but rest assured it contains your usual head boss gangster dude, some side-kicks, a raggedy gang of goons who you’re supposed to side with, and a scary foreign boss man. But no Jason Stratham, which must always count against a film surely?

Stepping up to the play in the mighty Stratham’s place is Tom Wilkinson (awesome as usual), Gerard Butler (the shouty chap from 300, who is suitably easy on the eyes), Mark Strong (could fit in the cast of the Godfather easily) and Idris Elba (the ace chappy otherwise known as Stringer Bell from the Wire, woefully underused). There’s also an exciting skeleton-off between Thandie Newton’s unbelievable “accountant” and Toby Kebbell who cuts an impressive figure as the rocknrolla (that’s what the title is – clever, yeah?) This is a guy who is both insane, dangerously violent but also amazing adept at the English language.

Some might say that the uber cool nature of the likes of Lock Stock glamorises crime and drugs and violence. Rocknrolla may play up to that in places – comedy druggies, comedy violence (the Russians who just won’t die) and comedy car thefts. But there’s also a neat blast of darkness, with an unpleasantly long scene featuring said rocknrolla drugged up to his eyeballs and therefore dribbling and convulsing on the floor, and an attack on a bouncer that's flinchingly violent and not all too impossible in today’s society (or yesterday’s society – we’ve been beating the crap out of each other for as long as we could hold tools).

This is, if you try to take it seriously, a bit shit really. Nonsense plot, unbelievable characters. Silly nonsense. But taken as a blast of entertainment it hits the mark dead-on. Amusing and engaging, it smacks of the 90s Ritchie, the one who was cool and not Madonna’s (now ex) hubbie. It’s Ritchie doing what he does best, and though there must come a point where he needs to drop the genre for fear of cliché, in this stage of the cinema calendar (which is as parched as a desert in the summer) it is welcome relief. Even though it’s been out quite a while, and is probably out of the cinema by the time you read this. In which case, why not catch it on DVD? For sheer entertainment it gets a recommended CF0.

12th Oct 08 - Gomorrah

2008-10-15T16:51:00.001Z

Although it sounds like a venereal disease, Gomorrah is a bold and bolshy Italian flick, catapulting you into the world of organised crime and leaving you in there with no hope of escape. It’s like the Godfather mixed with The Hills, a film portraying a reality show while teetering on the brink of being a standard documentary.

Before I throw any more genres into the mix, let me explain. Gomorrah is based on a book written by Roberto Saviano, which unearthed the underbelly of a gritty crime syndicate with fingers in pies that were so wide you’d be surprised how close Joe Public is to standing in them. The non-fiction book became a best seller, and the author became the target of death threats. Naturally making a film about it was the next step.

The structure is familiar in the mafia way, a sprawling plot with multiple characters that doesn’t lend itself to things like a narrator, meaning you’re left to fend for yourself as an at first seemingly endless spray of different people are shown to you. It’s only as the film picks up that you start to spot each character group and get yourself embroiled in their stories, each capturing a different component of the massive organisation. Drugs, weapons and violent family wars mixed with waste disposal, property and textile manufacturing.

But director Matteo Garrone goes for an original approach for the mafia genre, wedging his camera among the action, sometimes peeping round corners or over balconies, sometimes failing to capture everything because it’s too dark, or because the car in which you’re situated has driven off. The effect is piping hot reality, which makes the more violent aspects of the story more jarringly explosive. Not that this is a blood fuelled romp, the majority of action being heated conversations or nervous walks with bullet proof vests.

The language barrier does poke a hole in all the fun, some portions of dialogue seemingly left to your imagination, which is a great shame. The banter between two of the characters – young teens who are bigger than their boots – would probably spark off the screen if translated correctly. But hey – that’s the price we pay for not everyone in the world speaking my language. Damn them all.

Gomorrah’s impact increases when you realise it is fact, and the closing paragraphs detailing the extent of their involvement in the world we know does make you stop and think. But the huge array of characters means we fail to spend the time with them that they deserve, especially compared to the time spent on Mr Corleone (although it would have been five hours long if they’d gone for that approach.) As such, though Gomorrah is fascinating, at times thrilling, and after the initial learning curve embroils your thoughts with its realist style, its closing remarks on each character group has less of an emotional punch. Still, it impresses enough to gain a CF1, possibly for the underpants / weapons testing scene alone. Check it out.

8th Oct 08 - How To Lose Friends and Alienate People

2008-10-09T14:29:00.002Z

Here’s an idea of how to lose friends and alienate people – say repeatedly that you are more intelligent, experienced and witty than them. Maybe publish it somewhere that the whole world can see. Try it – it works.

Sadly this film isn’t about Cinemafool and all its brilliant nuances. It’s about an annoying journalist whose egocentric activities cause him to be hated by all… Toby Young is a real life Brit journalist, who turned his failed attempts to make it in the big U.S of A into a novel, which now plonks itself on screen for our viewing pleasure (in theory). The first in a duo of films featuring English comedians going to New York (see upcoming Gervais vehicle: Ghost Town), How To Lose Friends catapults our beloved Simon Pegg into the big leagues, staring alongside famous American actors like Kirsten Dunst, Jeff Bridges, and, errr, Gillian Anderson. Hurray for Pegg.

Unfortunately Pegg is just a puppet here, his writing talents kept far away and his comic acting skills tested against mighty jokes involving pigs and small dogs. Great! Although I’m being harsh, because among the slapstick animal gags there are some cutting asides about the biz of show, and the crass nature of that thing called fame and its relationship with the monstrous media. Take these aside and combine them with ace turns from Bridges (with a beautiful mane) and a spicy Gillian, then mix in a surprisingly good moment from Megan Fox (who for the majority is just there for the token boobs, but during a drunken poolside confession actually hits the mark about the price of fame) and you’d probably have a good film.

As it stands, though, How to Lose Friends is patchy, an odd mix of British humour and irritating set pieces (Meet the Parents-esque mistakes) with a guessable plot lacking in true originality – though it’s based on reality, the decision to add a romance element takes off the surprises, and dampens any road to redemption. Sell out your scruples and then have a change of heart, but only really celebrate that by snogging the girl you love? Wow. Plus, choosing to fill the film with the usual New Yorkisms (every taxi ride taking him past Times Square for some reason) only adds to the jaded feel. I’m sure we’ve all had enough of slightly grumpy British people wandering around the Big Apple.

Dunst does her usual Dunst (weird mouth, sassy, dimples) and though Pegg, who weirdly resembles Jasper Carrot, does a great job of becoming one of those horrendously creepy drunk guys who dances really badly and preys on anything female, his character just feels a little too hollow, too stuck in “arse hole” territory to ever really make us route for him. The laughs are few and far between and the romance too blatant to make even the newly soppy Cinemafool care, and considering the cast this is a big disappointment. But not an unexpected one. As such, How to Lose Friends demonstrates the best way to lose CF points, and drops down to CF-1. It's saved from further depths by an ace Yorkshire cave joke, which I won’t spoil just in case you watch it and fancy at least one laugh.

14th Sep 08 - Burn After Reading

2008-09-16T16:32:00.001Z

If No Country for Old Men was a three course meal, Burn After Reading is a tasty snack. That’s not to disrespect it - by snack I mean something delicious and enjoyable, such as a double chocolate chip muffin or unknown bakery product from Aldi, rather than something worthless like a tic tac or piece of fruit. Like a good snack, BAR is easy to approach, light enough to enjoy all in one sitting but fulfilling enough to stave off hunger for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe you’ll have a lighter tea because of it. Depends on your appetite I guess.

Anyway, after weighty matters in No Country, the Coen brothers return to lighter fare with another dark comedy featuring their favourite Clooney (twitchy and different - the Coens always seem to bring him out of Clooney-isms), Fargo legend Frances McDormand (sparky, superb), a strangely hairless John Malkovich (explosively hilarious), ice queen Tilda Swinton (as an ice queen… but doing it well) and forever chewing Brad Pitt (getting the cheap laughs, but getting laughs all the same).

The plot is too convoluted to even bother to explain, and part of the fun is joining the dots and seeing what picture emerges. While waiting for the dots to cross, the characters wholly engage, each one bright enough to make you want to stick with them until you’re introduced to the next and find them just as captivating. Dialogue, comic facial expressions, twists and turns all pop on screen with confident exuberance, the Coens in comfortable territory and actors given the freedom to let go.

Funny, fascinating and fully digestible on first-viewing, BAR falls under No Country on its score purely for the snack/meal analogy above. While more can be absorbed from repeat viewing of February’s beast, BAR is so cleanly executed you gain everything first-time and lose a richness, a depth, that often accompanies the Coen’s work. But still, Burn After Reading scores an impressive CF2, and threatens a double-whammy for the Coen’s on this year’s CF Top-10. It’s not out until October in the UK, but I’m still smug in New York. Check me out. Smug. And fancying a double chocolate chip muffin.

8th Sep 08 - Tropic Thunder

2008-09-16T15:57:00.001Z

From my lofty position in New York this week (no monster invasions or hilarious romantic misunderstandings so far) I have had access to newish films and thus become more smug than usual. I’ve seen these before you. Ha ha. Unless you’re American, in which case, um, nerr.

Ben Stiller’s new comedy Tropic Thunder (“TT“) was first on my hit list. With a plot derived from The Three Amigos, Galaxy Quest and Hot Shots Part Deux, TT doesn’t smack of originality, featuring a group of oddball actors attempting to make a Vietnam film and stumbling across some real bad guys in the jungle. But the cast list is enough to make this a worthy contender for your attention. Forget Stiller and Black, though. The real comedy force comes from two non-comedy actors.

If you were to say that the funniest thing in this film is Tom Cruise it’d usually be some sort of witty, cutting Cinemafool insult. But no - Cruisey is by far the best thing in this film, throwing out a belting performance. Who or what he does, I’ll leave to you to find out. Close second is the lovely Downey Jr, genius as a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Aussie playing a black-man. D-Jr is, though at times incomprehensible, utterly fabulous, over-acting his face off and making me smirk just thinking about “Satan’s Alley” (you’ll get it). Stiller and Black (that’s Jack) slope behind, doing the familiar. Stiller - slighty goofy but attempting heroic. Black - trying to be overly wild, only occasionally winning a laugh.

The film starts out strong, with faux trailers, faux film and the introduction of Cruisey and Stiller’s agent played by an Owen Wilson-esque Matthew McConaughey. But when we lose the entourage and get stuck in the jungle with the main actor group, the film loses some of its spark, laughs dry up and familiarity sets in. It picks up during the finale, but a promising opening leads to disappointment when you realise your face has stopped hurting from laughing and you have to watch Jack Black in his pants. Again.

Fantastic for the first third, mediocre for the second, reasonable for the third, TT is uneven but enjoyable, poking fun at Hollywood but embracing it all the same. Its saggy middle drops it to a CF1, but it’s still a fun comedy to end the summer with. And I saw it first. Ha ha ha.

3rd Sep 08 - Babylon A.D

2008-09-05T09:04:00.003Z

Bloody hell.

Ok, so there was nothing else on at the cinema and my companion thought perhaps a silly film staring Vin Diesel could have the same effect as a silly filmy staring Jason Stratham (hands up who can’t wait for Transporter 3?) So with a wry smile I settled down to watch Vin striding through the streets of Russia (not sure why) in an anorak with a heavy beat thumping in the background, cos he is well cool in his anorak with his hood up, right? Big Vin with a voice a bit like Batman’s, so deep it must resonate around his massive empty skull and cause some sort of internal bleeding.

Big Vin is given the task of transporting an ethereal girly from Russia to the holy land (New York of course) in what is blatantly the product of someone watching The Fifth Element, Serenity, Children of Men and probably the Transporter and thinking “hey, I’ve got an idea…” Give it its dues for some interesting futuristic ideas (road maps you can interact with like t’internet, and some fancy-pants new passport system) but Babylon quickly descends from a vaguely promising start into a bit of a silly headache.

The first hint of action, in your atypical futuristic club featuring lots of goths and cages, brings on a cascade of fast edits and uber-shaky-cam making the whole thing incomprehensible. Somewhere in there was the done-to-death street jumping thing (the one used in Bond and a million adverts and music videos, where people jump over walls to look cool. Sometimes I take steps two at a time. Do I film it and show everyone to prove how great I am? I should.) And some kick-ass kung fu from Michelle Yeoh, wheeled in as the quiet nun who can take care of herself (I’ll add Karate Kid to the list above. And, I don’t know, Shanghai Noon.) But if you’re after big fun action this sorely disappoints, mainly because you can’t follow anything that’s going on.

Anyway, the journey/chase portion of the film takes you into a variety of unnecessary set pieces (a snowmobile chase with Vin somersaulting over a missile was particularly amusing) until the plot hits the end point. Then it all goes horribly wrong. Well, more so.

Back when I was a kid I used to write lots and lots of stories, often based on a cool idea that I’d launch into (usually heavily inspired by something I’d just watched on TV) and then not really develop past the initial thought. These stories would either lie unfinished in computer hell, or be wrapped up in some skewed, rubbish fashion. I can say that about my own work. I was 13. I can also now say it about Babylon Zoo, sorry, A.D. Where it suddenly decides to take you takes some explaining (experiment, religion, A.I., conspiracy), and to flesh out these odd new plot choices are a handful of characters stuffed in last minute. While you try to gather up these new pieces of (frankly, ridiculous) information, the film bashes on to a) something already shown in the trailer, followed by b) a bog-standard chase sequence, followed by c) a scene from the Passifier. Seriously. My only guess is the film makers assume their target audience has stopped paying attention by this point, perhaps too busy stealing cars or getting pregnant what like all youth of today are doing if you happen to see any newspaper and believe the sensationalist, destructive tripe they throw out.

Where was I…? Ah yes, the film. Well what did you expect? It was shit. A big steaming shit. Lazily created to sit on our screens for a while before slowly sliding off into the trough of shit films that end up on 3-for-2 offers. But though it was shit, and though it slumps into a CF-3 score, it did not infuriate me as much as Indiana Jones 4, or I’m Not There. See, I can acknowledge it was shit, but I’m not angry because that's what I was expecting.

I think I’m growing as a person.

27th Aug 08 - Somers Town

2008-08-27T19:44:00.001Z

Last year Shane Meadows easily placed himself in CF top-10 history with This is England, a grim but funny tale of 80s skinheads, lead by a stunning performance by a young Thomas Turgoose. This time Meadows returns with a film charting the friendship between a young lad from Nottingham down on his luck in that London (Turgoose) and a Polish boy whose father’s working on the Channel tunnel (Piotr Jagiello). Pretentious reviewers wet themselves in excitement - it’s black and white AND features some subtitles. Bonza! But sadly Cinemafool in all its wisdom notes that Meadows has stumbled, missing the “glorious film mark” by a long shot, and bashing “and your point was…?” territory with an unexpected clunk.

Somers Town is an elongated version of a short film Meadows created, funded by Eurostar. Essentially it’s an advert made into a feature. Not a great starting platform. The thing with shorts is, you don’t really have to make them have a massive point. You can do some arty farty stuff, throw in some scenarios, chuck in a bit of a message maybe, and bish bash bosh you’ve got a short. No need to do much character progression or fleshing, no need to funnel the plot into an absorbing arc. If something worked as a short, adding in extra scenes or longer walking montages with mellow soundtracks does not a feature make (so the saying goes).

So Somers Town is a glowing disappointment. Characters are gloriously under-developed (we don’t have to be told everything, but an inkling of where they’re coming from would be nice), plot lines are sparse and unimaginative (boys like French waitress… they hang out… um…) and the film somehow manages to make 71 minutes last twice as long. Plus there’s a rather creepy “friendship” between the lads and the object of their affection. An older woman liking a younger guy? Hmm…

Turgoose is, despite looking like he might beat you for your mobile, a growing star, much of the film carried on his squinting expression. There are laughs to be had, often from improvisation, but Turgoose seems to quash the personality of his co-star, who only really comes to light during a heated debate with his father, which is sadly lost a little in translation.

Somers Town is surprisingly flat, pretty much pointless, and only the few sparks of humour created by Turgoose’s performance can save it sinking any lower than a CF-1. How can you fall from a CF Top-10 to an under-achiever? Somers Town shows you the way.

20th Aug 08 - Hellboy II: The Golden Army

2008-08-20T19:40:00.000Z

With Dark Knight making the serious and semi-realistic look so hot right now, it’s interesting to see that the man who brought us the deliciously dark and effecting Pan’s Labyrinth has chosen to go in the opposite direction with a bright and zany Hellboy II. It’s like Dark Knight is the layered, ominous oil painting with hidden depths that you can stare at for hours, and Hellboy is one of those colouring-in books with thick black outlines that’s vivid and fun.

But fear not - though it’s less layered than the mighty Knight, Hellboy’s colouring-in hasn’t been done with an unsharpened pencil in a haphazard and ugly fashion (Jumper) or coloured the same as the previous page only with less heart and imagination (Prince Caspian). Or coloured in for 150 minutes relentlessly with the same mental crayon until the paper’s all ripped and chewed up into this big time-wasting mess (Pirates…)

No, Del Toro has instead chosen a fun picture and taken a great deal of care and attention over the details. Something a bit odd but sparkling with energy and imagination, that doesn’t take itself too seriously but doesn’t scrimp on the effort either. Following a familiar fantasy quest-esque formula, Hellboy II: The Golden Army sees Hellboy fight a, er, golden army, as well as his own battle to be accepted by humans and a fiery relationship with girlfriend Liz (a rather gaunt Selma Blair who spends a little too much time in big black knickers). He’s helped along the way by Abe Sapien (like Niles from Frasier, only a fish-man) and a new boss Johann Krauss, a sort of vapour in a suit.

If it’s sounding a bit strange, it is, but that’s just something you get used to as the number of weird and wonderful creatures matches that of any good Jim Henson production, Del Toro spending probably longer than he should on designs that, quite often, are only seen for a few seconds. The market scene in particular is probably worth several watches, just to catch every last non-CGI detail (Del Toro mostly preferring old fashioned puppetry compared to CGI) and the little tooth fairies are particularly memorable as being cute and nightmarish all at the same time.

It’s bonkers fantasy done well, but still bonkers fantasy none-the-less, and there isn’t too much to separate it from the Jim Henson experience of watching a Labyrinth or Dark Crystal, or endlessly watching that bit in Star Wars where the aliens are playing instruments in the bar. Enjoyable, well crafted, but no real wow-factor, Hellboy II gains itself a CF1. Let’s let Del Torro concentrate on all things Hobbit now.

6th August 08 - The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian

2008-08-08T12:59:00.001Z

Kids! War is great! Learn warfare today! You too can be plotting battles, sacrificing lives of your own soldiers, killing foreigners without any emotional trauma. It’s fun! And if you have doubts or think you’re going to lose, don’t worry. Jesus is on your side.

Ok, it seems that Wall-E and Dark Knight have left gaping holes in the rest of the cinema schedules, and as I’d missed it on its initial release it seemed an opportune time to catch up with the kids from Narnia. The first Chronicle back in 2005 was impressive but severely lacking when compared to the mighty Rings. Round two ditches the child-like wonder and goes straight for the jugular, with a Narnia overrun by evil, erm, Spaniards (those pesky Spaniards) and the kings and queens called back to sort things out. Which, as it turns out, is by launching straight into war.

There’s no denying that it’s pretty thrilling to watch an army of assorted creatures, all stunningly brought to life (the centaurs being particularly cool) doing battle against an army of human soldiers, with griffins attacking overhead and leopards leaping alongside fauns. But when trees wander in you can’t help but compare to Mr Ring and his Lords, and as far as epic fantasy battle sequences go the bar’s been set way too high for a Disney pic featuring no true violence and gallivanting mice.

Gone are the exciting first encounters with Narnians, gone are James McAvoy’s little trotters, gone are the menacing foes, replaced with the bizarrely Spanish-esque power-hungry uncle, trying to overthrow his nephew – the rightful heir – and steal all the glory, a plot we’re already seen a trillion times already (Lion King, anyone?) True, C S Lewis may have got in there before Simba and the gang, but for today’s cinema-saturated masses watching some accented dudes in big robes discuss backhanded assassination while staring out of stone windows isn’t anything to write home about. Not that I’d ever “write home” about anything. It’s all text messages and emails nowadays. Eee it’s not like it was, the old people moan. Yes, you’re right. It’s called progress.

Sorry, where was I? Yes, Narnia. Prince Caspian. Ben Barnes, a relative newcomer (he was in an episode of Doctors, though again – nothing to write home about) plays it relatively well, mooching around and clashing with William Mosley’s Peter (cross between Prince William and Charlie from Busted) while the other three kids hang out in the background, the girls pouting and staring into the distance, the other one who was irritating in the first Chronicles being not quite so irritating now. Eddie Izzard voices a mouse, probably the best character, and Liam Neeson is back again as Jesus… sorry, Aslan. The lion. Who only lets himself be seen by the youngest girl. The others have lost faith. Aslan tests them with stuff. Lets lots of people die. But all for a “purpose”. My view? He’s either Jesus or got a thing for little girls. That’s what was going through my mind for half the film, which is a little off-putting to be honest.

Sex-pest son-of-God big cats aside, Narnia is impressive visually and does feature some tense action, but it felt hollow in terms of a heart or a true story. It seemed to leave the child-like charm of the first one, and instead exploit the chance to have lots of battle scenes, which we’ve all seen before only in a much better way. Flash visuals aren’t enough to impress anymore (Potter – I’m talking to you too). It passed the time in a reasonably enjoyable way, but not enough to warrant any extra enthusiasm. Prince Caspian traipses in with a CF0.

30th July 08 - The Dark Knight

2008-07-31T13:20:00.001Z

Back in 2005 Christopher Nolan brought us a much needed de-camped Batman. Gone were the nipple nuts and terrible puns, replaced instead with a formidable Christian Bale and a dark streak that made it serious, exciting and CF top-10 rated. A sequel with the same cast and an iconic bad guy was obviously muchly anticipated. Throw in a highly rated performance by a now tragically deceased star and you couldn’t get much more hype than if you implanted a special device in everyone’s ear that bellowed “watch Batman! It’s great! Watch it right now! Now!” At 3am. Every night. For two months.

Now that’s a marketing idea…

Anyway, The Dark Knight launches in with the superhero sequel bonus of not having to spend any time setting up the back-story. Batman’s trying to take down the mob with the help from his police and lawyer friends, meanwhile a crazy guy in clown make-up is slowly building trouble. Nolan (who co-wrote with his brother) weaves an impressive tale, with plenty of stonking action (the opening bank robbery a fine example), suspenseful lead-ups, dramatic interchanges bristling with danger, and the occasional flash of humour.

To be honest, as a character Batman can sometimes be vaguely dull, bumbling around his underground lair with a mood on, dressing up to beat up guys using no real super powers at all save some smooth moves and Bond-esque gadgets shaped like little bat wings. Nolan’s reinvention made him moodier, broodier, more dangerous. Better. But though he carries the film’s title, all eyes are most definitely on The Joker here. Partly because it’s Heath, and there’s no denying the surprising force of sadness that hit most people back in January. But mainly because The Joker is such a vibrant character, and Heath’s Joker takes the fun and twists it into something truly menacing. A clown that wants to slice your cheeks and ram a pencil in your face. Come on kids, it’s fun! Creating carnage for seemingly no purpose, turning people on each other by stirring fears, the Joker is the boogyman to today’s society, not least when his coat is full of grenades.

The film boasts a sizeable supporting cast – the familiar faces of Freeman and Caine mixed with newbies Maggie Gyllenhaal (taking over from Katie Holmes and doing a much better job of giving her character backbone) and Aaron Eckhart as Harvey Dent, comic fans knowing what’s to come while those out of the loop probably non-the-wiser, thanks to some refreshingly restrained advertising.

Tone-wise this definitely lives up to the ‘dark’ in its title, some events both shocking and bold to include in what’s seen to be a mainstream flick. It is incredibly violent without showing anything on screen, the implications for a 12A film possibly traumatising little kiddies, although they deserve it for spending half their time walking about the cinema. A quibble might be the running-time, perhaps over-shooting it with too much spent on slightly confusing car / motorbike chases. And an unintentional hilarity from Batman’s voice dampens some of the drama (I think his suit might be a little too tight in the larynx department.)

Never-the-less, The Dark Knight lives up to the hype; with superb control from Mr Nolan, solid performance from the Bale, striking from the Ledger (although not Oscar worthy – crazy isn’t that hard to do…) some ace action pieces and good old-fashioned moral conundrums. Dark Knight matches Wall-E with a CF3 and shows its bum to the other superhero flicks of 2008. Keep it up Nolan.

23rd July 08 - Wall-E

2008-07-24T15:26:00.001Z

An animated film about a mute robot? What about angular animals voiced by vaguely annoying American stars? Surely that’s what computer animation has been developed for? You might have summarised that from the trailers preceding this film, each one making me more depressed and ready to push over a toddler to cheer myself up. Throw in a Star Wars “film”, closely resembling a Saturday morning kids show, and you’d be ready to shut down all computers just to make the endless crap stop. But then Wall-E starts and everything suddenly feels much, much better.

Mute robots, it seems, can be endearing, funny and utterly charming to watch. With a cockroach for a companion, wandering through a desolate, rubbish-strewn earth, Wall-E is somehow one of the warmest characters to grace cinemas so far this year. A round of applause for Pixar, who took the winning formula from their flagship short way back in 1986 (Luxo Jr – a “baby” lamp, now the logo for the company) and applied it to a feature. Comedy and heart from supposedly inanimate objects, no dialogue required. It’s a brave step by Nemo creator Andrew Stanton, going from cutesy fish to metal garbage-collector, but his gamble pays off big-time.

Wall-E is refreshing, original, beautifully animated and superbly plotted. Simple but oh so effective, it’ll make you smile throughout and even managed to do the impossible and make me shed a slight tear, though this weakness could be down to recent cracks in my usual bitter and angry exterior. It’s a simple love story mixed with cutting remarks on the state of society and the environment. And it features cute robots and a fabulous sense of fun. What more do you want?

Its message is as blunt as a donkey punch, namely switch off your autopilot, get off your fat arse and don’t just blithely follow the path of consumerism and laziness. For what can be seen as a child’s film it makes a stomping great point, but does it without talking down, or shouting at the audience.

Quibbles to stop it reaching the dizzy heights of a CF5? Well, if I must, I’d say it falters on the whole “America is the world” aspect – we never see anywhere, or anyone, apart from the great A’s, and if it is to teach kiddies that destroying the planet is bad, it’d be also good to throw in “there are other places outside your home town” too. It’s also vaguely ironic that a film showing us how humanity is lost when we only communicate through artificial interfaces is a film made by a huge team of animators sitting in front of artificial interfaces for months on end. And for a film that berates consumerism, it’s interesting to note the Apple product placement and wide variety of Wall-E merchandise now available. Don’t think that buying stuff is the key to happiness – but go out and get yourself a Wall-E t-shirt, cap, toy, computer game, mug, pencil case…

Now I’m just being picky, though, because Wall-E is a winner. Any film that makes me grin for a couple of hours is a film worth seeing, and as such this adorable little robot wheels in with a CF3. The best film of the summer so far. I wonder if an adorable little man dressed like a bat will do any better.

16th July 08 - The Mist

2008-07-17T20:47:00.005Z

Zombies, wasps and fire aside, there’s nothing scarier than the unknown. It’s the fear of a darkened corridor, the terror of what’s lurking just beneath your bed. Stephen King revels in such fears (he said so himself at the start of one of his books) so it was no surprise to read a novella of his all about an impenetrable mist with hidden unpleasantries. It was a surprise, however, to see Frank Darabont sign himself up to adapt and direct said novella into a feature length. Frank is a fan of the King, and probably the most accomplished at adapting his work without squeezing out all the humanity. But to see the man behind the awesome behemoths of Shawshank and Green Mile direct a monster flick? Eh?

It all becomes clear when you realise the story isn’t really about the monsters outside, and more about the monsters within each of us. The majority of the film takes place inside a supermarket, with a myriad of characters trapped together under the oppressive might of the mist. As one character says, human beings are insane. “Put two in a room and they’ll have to pick sides - that’s what religion and politics were invented for.” Darabont brings to life King’s characters in all their flawed detail, bitching and cowering, turning on one another and turning into god-jollies.

Of course, there are real monsters out there in the mist. Different to your standard gorilla, these babies range in size and shape, be it creepy giant mosquitoes, super creepy giant spider things, or flesh ripping tentacles creeping under the door. Punctuating the human drama, these nasties bring in some fun frights and good old fashioned gore, and there’s a pleasant lack of big but ultimately disappointing money shots (I‘m looking at you Cloverfield). The big mammas are merely ominous shadows, details left to your imagination. In different hands this could have been cheapo monster-shite, with bad actors battling in the vague direction of bad CGI surrounded by smoky mist. Oooo scary. In Darabont’s hands it is richly satisfying, drama meets horror. Oh, and it’s fucking depressing.

Jesus - never have I heard a cinema go quite so quiet than at the end of The Mist. When Darabont was writing the script someone must have been playing The Ting Tings and Hard-Fi at full blast. It would be enough to make anyone despise all of mankind, and certainly seems to be the mood Darabont was in. Gone is the uplifting hope of Shawshank. Come out of The Mist and you’ll probably want to sit in your bedroom and poke yourself in the eye in despair. Do I sound like I’m being negative? I’m not - Darabont mooned the studios (who begged him to change his ending) and pushed his potential cheapo monster-shite cliché into a daring and exhilarating new territory. A film to make you shudder. Jump. Frown. Laugh. And actually applause (first time I’ve heard applause at a death scene).

Though it could have been slimmed down a little, The Mist is a surprisingly fresh film considering it’s based on a book from 1985 about tentacles in fog. With themes relevant to today (fear can make people believe anything… do you hear that, sensationalist media? Stop it now) and fun monster carnage in the mix, The Mist gets an extra point for being a faithful adaptation of a great King story, and another for having the balls to tweak the story in THAT way, winning a mighty CF2. Which King will Darabont pick to dissect next? I haven’t the foggiest.

Yes. I am that funny.

9th July 08 - Hancock

2008-07-14T08:21:00.002Z

Superheroes are so hot right now, with Marvel getting their own studio to create cross-over excitement and Nolan’s second Batman approaching our screens (after an eon of advertising it – to the point where I openly groan when the trailer comes on.) So what better than a film riffing on the genre, echoing My Super Ex-Girlfriend’s turn in 2006 when it followed the likes of Spidey. This time, instead of having hero-turned-crazy-ex, we have tramp-hero, alcoholic-hero and – shock horror! – hero who says “fuck” in a 12A rated film. Excellent.

Big Willy is Hancock, a miserable superhero who can’t save anything without making a big mess, staggering around in drunken haze and feeling up passing women. When he saves PR man Ray (Jason Bateman, who I desperately want to like but doesn’t half play the same character every time) he unwittingly gains himself representation, as Ray tries to repay him by “remaking” him. Although you’d expect a typical montage of someone slowly seeking redemption and then saving the day, Hancock throws a few unexpected curve balls into the plot, twisting into vaguely original corners and proving a different experience to that suggested by the trailers.

I didn’t say it was a better experience, mind.

But let’s be positive for a change. Hancock is sort of funny at times (although the better gags were already splashed over trailers) and Big Willy does a good job as a big, huffy bloke with various issues and super strength. His method of dealing with criminals is refreshingly crass, and the plot turns create a more sombre tone that dilutes chances of it being a jolly Fantastic Four-esque romp. The effects are pretty good too (a few dodgy CGI-Will moments aside). And, err, you see his bum for a short time.

To go back to the negative, where Hancock delivers in the unexpected it falters in doing anything too worthwhile, the carefully built up storyline being crushed against the rock of triviality, eventually landing in the port of “is that all you’re going to do?” Baddies are wedged in hurriedly to give some sort of final battle, which is lost in all the “hang on…”, “why doesn’t he…” and “how did they…” thoughts.

Director Peter Berg (who I’ve just spotted is down to make – and ruin – Dune. Gah! Sorry, just had a mini-rage there. Done now.) Where was I? Oh yes – soon to ruin Dune director Peter Berg smugly pushes aside the normal big-guns style of action flicks and instead goes all indie, with soft focus, super close-ups on off-centre heads (alarming on the big screen – a massive Big Willy head just off to one side…) trying to make all the conversations very deep and thoughtful even though the script doesn’t warrant it. When he throws the same style into the CGI-d fight scenes everything becomes a bit difficult to follow, and generally not that exciting. We’ve seen a million superheroes kicking ass now – what we wanted from Hancock was a bad-boy. We do get it, but the minute we stray into generic hero territory the magic is swiftly lost.

Hancock isn’t the film you’d expect (unless you read this, in which case you’re now going to be expecting something. Did I just spoil it for you? Well, it’s not like it’s particularly deep. There’s not even any subtitles. It’s a film for plebs. You’ll probably forget I’ve even written this anyway, with your short attention span.) Sorry – mini insulting tangent. Anyway, Hancock is potentially really good, but ultimately a bit of a let-down. Not funny enough to be a full comedy, and not rich enough to be a new breed of superhero, especially with the heavy weights of Iron and Hulk still fresh in our minds. I probably wouldn’t recommend it unless there’s nothing else on TV. So Hancock flops in at a CF-1. Sorry Willy.

2nd July 08 - Wanted

2008-07-11T12:22:00.001Z

Although described by most as “that one with Angelina Jolie and James McAvoy in it”, Wanted’s main draw for me was down to it being “that one directed by the crazy Russian dude.” Timur Bekmambetov wowed with his insane style in vampire flicks Night Watch and Day Watch, not only showing utterly random shit on screen, but showing it in an utterly random way. Watching his films is very much like speeding downhill on a rollercoaster – exhilarating, blurry, and slightly nauseating.

To get the most out of him you really need to unbuckle your seatbelt and just go along with the ride. Trying to find any semblance of sense or reality is like trying to enjoy Pirates of the Caribbean 2. After all, Wanted is based on a graphic novel and features super assassins, bullets that go round corners, magic healing wax and – genius this one – a “loom of fate”, which is up there with “the cube” from Transformers. If you’re expecting Wanted to be a semi-realistic action flick then your expectations should be blown away in the opening scene when a man leaps across two buildings, dodging bullets all the way.

As well as dealing with uber-cool assassins, Wanted looks at the abuse of power and skewed moral motives and actually puts forth the thoughtful question of: “wouldn’t you be much happier if you were an assassin, rather than a boring accountant?” (To be honest I’d rather they didn’t give accountants those sorts of ideas.) With the dollop of cubicle woes Wanted becomes the hyperactive offspring of Dilbert and The Matrix. A storyline that’s sort of familiar, except for that magic loom…

Visually this film is very much in Timur’s chaotic hands, but battling with the limelight is McAvoy and Jolie, the former sporting a weird American accent, the latter really needing to eat some pies. Seriously Jolie – it wouldn’t hurt to have some pastry goods or something. Maybe not every day, but you can treat yourself. Custard tarts are nice, if you fancy something a bit different. Or scones with jam. Maybe a biscuit or two. You get the idea.

There are some pretty cool set pieces interspersed with a fair dollop of nonsense, making Wanted thrilling but silly, a barrage of violent carnage with a heavy metal soundtrack and a few wry winks to any Night Watch fans. Like watching the Matrix lobby scene for 90 minutes, Wanted does amaze, but also falters a little with a jumbled middle and some vacuous characterisation. But what were you expecting? Timur’s style is a punch to the face and automatically gets Wanted an extra point, but for a faltering plot it can go no further, scoring a reasonable CF1. Give Timur some more money and see what else he’ll do.

25 June 08 - Priceless

2008-06-25T13:55:00.001Z

When a film starts off with a similar plot to the Jennifer Lopez “hit” Maid in Manhattan, you have to worry. Hilarious misunderstanding involving rich person mistaking servant pleb for hot money totty. Oooo. Will the rich one overcome their love of money and learn to live with dating a pauper? Do bears shit on the pope?

That’s how the saying goes, right?

Anyway, so went my thoughts as Priceless began, with Audrey Tautou’s posh Irene sparking against Gad Elmaleh’s poor Jean. Yawn. But the film quickly takes a turn for the better, Irene simply milking older rich folk for nice gifts and Jean quickly following suit, turning it into a competition to see who can get the best pressies rather than a simple case of I’m not really rich, you lied to me, I’m sad, I’ll love you anyway, here’s a nice dress to wear.

The film bubbles with amusing banter and simmers with sexy sex (it’s very French), the co-stars trying to outdo each other on who can look the sexiest. Tautou slinks around in tiny dresses and pouts, while Elmaleh gradually gains an air of Bond with sharp suits and sultry eyes. At times it’s a little like watching Sex & the City, with tracking shots of Tauto’s dresses and enough brand name-checks to sink a sold-out ship.

But through all its sexy style Priceless lacks a beating heart, Jean’s “love” for Irene seemingly driven only by his pants as she is shown to have no redeeming characteristics whatsoever, save jealousy, greed and the ability to manipulate. It’s easy to see why she could fall for him as he makes thoughtful gestures and the like, but it seems all a woman has to do is put on a great dress and have done with it. Actually, why am I complaining? Seems like we get the better deal.

This lack of depth makes their relationship purely cosmetic, a vacuous excuse to feature nice dresses in nice hotels, the question of whether they’ll be together in the end giving an answer that is both obvious and unbelievable (no real jobs, no money – and you’re going to do what?) Rather than an aw bless rom-com with a snappy edge, Priceless falls into a saxophone-sound-tracked farce that passes the time fair enough, but only in a similar way to eating a French Fancy, which wouldn’t take up as much time. Unless you eat really slowly, or happen to have found a giant version of the cake, which would be pretty cool to be honest. The film only just scrapes a CF0, and only really because I quite fancied Gad Elmaleh, and because it gave me chance to think about a massive cake. I’m that easily pleased.

18th June 08 - The Incredible Hulk

2008-06-18T14:48:00.000Z

It was with a raised eyebrow that I heard the news they were making a new Hulk film. Ang Lee’s green monster didn’t go down well at all with the masses, his sloth-paced approach clashing with the wham bam marketing campaign that went along with it. People went in expecting lots of smashing action, and instead got a measured drama, which is pretty good but does take about twenty days to get going.

So what makes this film different to the first? Well, Old Hulk was directed by the Sense and Sensibility guy. The new Incredible Hulk is directed by the Transporter Two guy. You literally couldn’t get any more different - from vast dramatic silences to fighting with half a melon on your fists. Granted, Louis Leterrier managed to inadvertently create one of the funniest films of all time, but it was a little concerning that he’d be taking over the franchise. Thankfully, despite wedging in a “hot Brazilian in overalls slow-mo” shot in the first ten minutes, Leterrier captures what everyone wants to see in a Hulk film. Yes, some brooding drama. But mostly, major carnage by a big green dude.

The ever brilliant Edward Norton takes on Banner’s shoes, crestfallen and skinny, capturing the essence of Banner as much as Downy Jr captured the essence of Stark. Tim Roth growls his way through the bad guy role. He’s British - ergo bad guy - but was “born in Russia” so he’s pretty damn hard too (you can’t be hard if you’re only from Britain, unless you're called Winstone) and has a laughably drawn-on six pack. And Liv Tyler floats around in the background with her massive lips, doing not much except looking forlorn.

And as for the man himself. Well, he’s oddly CGI’d, but almost perfectly so, tossing cars around like they’re toys and pouting like a big angry green toddler who’s just been told off for hitting his brother with a spade. Hulk definitely bashes, and there’s not a whole lot else you can do with the character. What Leterrier does do is throw sly winks to the audience that are certain to crack smiles, whether it’s ace cameos or wry plays on the old favourites - “you wouldn’t like me when I’m hungry” quotes Banner in poor Portuguese (though to me hunger and anger are pretty much the same thing.)

Let’s be honest - I really thought this was going to be shit. Like the crazy hulk dogs scene from the first one, but for two hours interspersed with shots of women in bikinis and Linkin Park playing in the background. So it was nice to see a film that, yes, isn’t a masterpiece by any means, but is good fun, sticks to its roots and entertains for its whole running time without resorting to aliens or gophers. Hulk gets a CF1 for being a bashing good time. Plus it showed just how insanely fantastic the new Marvel studio is, with juicy cross-overs and hints at a future where Marvel characters dip in and out of a steady stream of super comic book films and oh my god I am a massive massive nerd aren’t I…

But only in an ironic way.

11th June 08 - Gone Baby Gone

2008-06-16T16:35:00.001Z

There was a show in America, which I believe has just come out in the UK, featuring paedophile entrapment and a yelling silver-haired man, followed by FBI arrest (it seems that Brass Eye predicted the media’s next move perfectly with their mock trailer for “the Paedo-files”). There’s no doubt that horrible things happening to kids is very very bad, but like hoodies and terrorists the media seems to enjoy latching on to it as a trigger-point and making it into a massive threatening cloud that they can exploit for all its worth.

Gone Baby Gone would have been released last year, but its timing wasn’t great as it features the abduction of a little girl, and it wouldn’t have been too appropriate to release a film so close to a real-life event. Plus there wouldn’t have been room for it, what with the 24/7 news coverage, web site, blog, documentary and wrist bands.

And so it is only now released, with Ben Affleck behind the directing and writing chair, and his brother Casey in the spotlight as a private detective hired to help find a missing girl. It’s a cross between Without a Trace, CSI, The Shield and any other show with detectives, cops and a hyperactive director. Benji has taken everything he’s learnt about direction and thrown it all in, so we have mega shaky-cam for dramatic bits, odd close-ups of random shit when people have Important Conversations, and even weird snap-shot editing to emphasise something really shocking. It does have the feel of a TV show rather than a film, especially with a soundtrack and voice-overs to lazily tell us what the character’s feeling.

As for the plot. Well, there are points where it feels like Benji has watched something like the Paedo-files and thought “damn-right! Where’s my pitchfork!” But there are also points where he may have taken a different approach, showing the pitch-fork wavers to be less than perfect themselves. He has managed to make a lengthy story with lots of “ooo” plot twists, but his characters are a little cardboardy, with shallow histories if shown at all.

Casey (whose strained voice sounds like he’s constantly hanging his head upside down) is undeniably good at what he does, wowing in the Assassination of Jesse James, but this character comes with an untold history that could have been explored much further and given him an edge (how did he get to be a detective so young? Why does he know all these shady characters and have such a tough streak when he ultimately seems a bit wet?) Morgan Freeman pops up as a detective (nice change for you there, Morgan) and the most striking thing has to be his freckles, which seem to be parodying themselves nowadays. And the ever reliable Ed Harris rocks up as a cop, but spends most of his time SHOUTING lots and lots.

But Amy Ryan impresses as the mother of the missing child, and though I’ve ripped into it a little already, I have to say that Affleck has made a film that does give you chance to consider some moral conundrums. To avoid spoilers I can’t say much more, but it was nice to have some thoughtful depth to the proceedings. The film was also tensely exciting at times, and with an ever-changing whodunnit line that hooks you until the end.

With a formidable Casey in the front seat, I was wanting more of a character study than a typical detective film with a slightly more risqué subject matter. It’s one of those films you could watch on a Saturday night and probably pay attention to the whole way through, but it’s a long way off being something great. Therefore it just hits a CF0. That’s ok though, Benji. You can settle with having an OK film. You did star in Daredevil after all, so the only way is up.

30th May 08 - Sex and the City

2008-05-30T16:44:00.000Z

There’s an amazing start to this film, where Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) frolics across the road towards her beloved Mr Big, when suddenly bam! A bus hits her - ironically the very bus that carries her advertisement, which is seen in every opening sequence to the much loved Sex & The City series. Carrie is tragically killed, and in a fit of despair Mr Big goes on a rampage through New York, slaughters the other three main characters (Charlotte, Samantha and Miranda) before falling into a pit of nuclear waste, which changes his molecular structure so that he literally becomes Mr Big, towering above the buildings of New York and destroying everything in his path. Meanwhile a group of twenty-somethings have to escape from the city, all the while filming their escapades on shaky-cam. Mr Big is eventually felled by a hoard of angry gophers and some aliens.

Ok. That isn’t quite what happens. But wouldn’t it have been something special? Something you could only really do as a one-off special feature? Something to make use of a bigger budget? Something that gives a reason to make a film after a show has ceased to be? Yeah - it would have been. But instead the Sex and the City film is exactly the same as any Sex and the City episode. Only it’s two and a half hours long.

But here’s why that isn’t a problem. Sex and the City was a good show. Funny, dramatic, pioneering in terms of its strong female leads and graphic scenes, SATC established a huge fan base for a reason. Yes, the characters could sometimes get bloody annoying, occasionally seeming to parody themselves to a point of banality, but its character arcs and relationship-fuelled plots became addictive, and it was one of those shows where you could easily watch two or three episodes at a time.

The film picks up a few years after the show left off, and it’s a testament to the writers and actors that after four years the characters and tone of the series simply carry on, as if there hadn’t been a break at all. Characters face varying degrees of dilemma (some far more than others), there’s lots of weird clothes on show (it strikes me as odd that what many people call “fashion” I call “looking like a twonk… in bad clothes”) and even two, count them, two montages of Carrie trying on different outfits. Two. In the first twenty minutes. Smashing.

It’s frustrating and ridiculous that the majority of the major plot points are blurted out in the film’s overlong trailer, ruining any surprise revelations or potentially devastating turns of events. There is certainly a powerful mid-point, which spirals into a wave of darkness, before levelling off for the last third into a rather non-wow finale. But it still made the audience laugh and cry on more than one occasion. Whether it would have the same effect on someone who didn’t have six series’ worth of back story, I’m not so sure.

Like the Simpsons Movie, there was no real reason to make this (aside from money) and there wasn’t anything special done to the series to reason a voyage from the little screen to the big screen. But by being based on a super show, it automatically becomes a super film, notching above the baseline CF0. But only to a CF1. There are no extra points because, well, there weren’t any extras in the film either. And if I see production notes detailing a new B-Movie with a “Mr Big” and some gophers, I’ll bloody sue.

25th May 08 - Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

2008-05-25T21:12:00.002Z

Picture the scene: George Lucas is sat in his study, surrounded by star and planet mobiles, rocketship wallpaper on the walls and the futuristic music from the queuing system at Disneyland’s Space Mountain ride playing in the background. On one side of his computer is a note from Steven Spielberg, which says: “Dear George. We have finally decided to make the fourth Indiana Jones, even though the series didn’t need it and Harrison is a gajillion years old so will look a bit weird. All the other big action films have made fourths, and I was starting to feel left out. Who likes any of the other Die Hards anyway? Please write me a script so we can film a new Indy and make loads of money. The fans will watch it regardless, so put whatever you want in there. Cheers. Stevie.”

On the other side of the computer is a shed load of sherbet dip, which George’s mum has told him not to have because last time it took him seven hours to go to sleep, but she’s on holiday so he can do what he likes. George proceeds to eat all the sherbet dip and then write the script for the fourth Indiana Jones.

If I was to describe the plot for Indy 4 right now, you would most likely think it a continuation of this elaborate scene above (which is of course false - George was joined by Jeff Nathanson on plot duties). But I wouldn’t be making it up. I couldn’t make it up. Seriously. Three words: What. The. Fuck.

Indy 4 is essentially a never-ending car chase interspersed with everything and anything that could exist in the real world (or not) and might cause some excitement - killer ants, scorpions, waterfalls, cliffs, booby traps, FBI, Russians, magnets, quicksand, angry tribes people, nuclear explosions, monkeys, Jim Robinson from Neighbours, and frickin’ gophers (what was with the gophers?!) It was like any and all ideas were used, rather than selected for most entertainment / relevance to the plot.

Just to retract the barbs slightly, of course the original Indy’s weren’t brimming with coherent stories or anything other than a series of tombs and fights. And like its predecessors, Indy 4 has a bit of spirit about it - some good fun can be had in some of the sequences, there’s slapstick and wry humour, and a small portion of the Indy / Mutt (Shia LaBeouf- “the new Indy”) banter was entertaining. But on the whole it dragged horribly, feeling twice as long as Iron Man (when Iron Man was actually longer) and matching the witty old-school opening title sequence by being pretty damn dated. We like character development nowadays. Or, you know, plots that aren’t from a sherbet-fuelled insanity trip.

Indy 4 brings nothing new to the table except a lump of crusty bread that we’ve already seen before, only now it looks like it’s picked up every bit of fluff off the floor and some space dust along with it. Didn’t need to be made, entertained for only a quarter of its running time, and yet will probably make a killing at the box office. It was going to get a CF-1, but having written this I’ve angered myself into dropping it further. CF-2 for you, Indy. No more sherbet, Lucas. Your mother knows what she’s talking about.

21st May 08 - Iron Man

2008-05-25T21:09:00.002Z

All together now: duuuh… duuuuh… duuuh duh duuuh… yes, the opening power chords of Black Sabbath’s Iron Man have been in my head for several days preceding and post-ceding (it should be a word) my recent cinema trip, the first for the month after a spate of non-cinema outings due to vaguely important events.

Coupled with the echoes of an ace riff was a heady mix of excitement and trepidation. Excitement because this was another comic book film (and there have been good ones - Spider-Man, X-Men, Batman Begins) directed by John Favreau (who did the underrated Elf among others) and starring Robert Downey Jr, whose on screen charisma is only overshadowed by the fact he is bloody gorgeous. Trepidation because this was another comic book film (and there have been some average ones - Hulk, Superman Returns - and some pap ones - Daredevil, Fantastic Four) and it features a bloke in an iron suit, which could be a bit naff. What we end up with is a film that doesn’t quite reach the joys of Spidey et al, but transcends pap and average into the “pretty good” zone.

“Pretty good” is replaced by “excellent” when taking in Downey Jr’s performance. Matched perfectly against his character Tony Stark, Downey is at his best when smug, gorgeous, arrogant, successful and gorgeous, juxtaposed with occasional flashes of fear, guilt and, well, being gorgeous (he does that a lot). Matching his turn in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Downey Jr manages to be a believable arse hole but still causes the audience to obtain an emotional attachment.

So with a strong lead in the bag, the film scores further points with a good mix of comedy, origin story and lots of things that go boom. As a comic product it naturally strays into the ludicrous and implausible (who knew that typing “translate” into a computer can make it automatically translate video? How clever!) but we can forgive that because it’s Iron Man, and he looks awesome when he’s all kitted out and hovering around his basement on rocket shoes.

What isn’t as easy to forgive is the dubious use of Afghanistan bad guys, living in caves and wearing t-shirts that say “designed to make Americans feel better”. Tony Stark makes kick-ass American weapons that can be used to wipe out thousands, but when he realises the same weapons have been sold to the Evil Foreigners he gets pretty upset, because then they might be used to kill “us”. And killing lots of foreigners is Ok, but killing Americans? This calls for a superhero!

It’s not quite as black-and-white as that, but when we stray into murkier territory with a traitor selling weapons to the enemy, we end up straying right back out and paint said traitor as a crazy man, rather than a realistic portrait of the weapons industry.

This slightly half-arsed foray into making a point and then making a really rubbish point taints Iron Man, but only a little bit. It is, on the whole, enjoyable, funny, thrilling, with a strong cast and superb effects, although probably didn’t need quite as many suit construction montages. With a whopping clue to a sequel, it’ll be interesting to see where they take this franchise. One thing’s certain - if Downey Jr’s still on board then get me a ticket to the boat.

Iron Man scores an extra point for being a solid comic book film, and an additional one simply for having a lot of Downey Jr in it, climbing up to a CF2. Duuuh… duuuuh… duuuh duh duuuh…

26th April 08 - Happy-Go-Lucky

2008-04-27T14:22:00.001Z

Being happy is the single most significant purpose to anyone’s existence. Fact. I mean, you only have one life which is slowly creeping towards the end every single second, and if you’re not spending it being happy then what on earth are you doing? That’s like going to Alton Towers and not going on any of the rides. Pointless.

Granted, it’s not easy to be happy all of the time, seeing as how adult life (and let’s be fair - teenage life too) is generally rubbish. If all you had to do was be happy then everyone would be fine, but the whole “having to survive - ergo having to eat food - ergo having to buy food - ergo having to earn money” thing can get in the way. But if you’ve made choices that mean there is absolutely no happiness in your life what-so-ever, then really. What are you doing? You’re essentially endlessly watching Pirates of the Caribbean 2 and refusing to change the DVD. You’re being stupid. Change the DVD. Simple.

There. After counselling the whole world, I’ll now get back to business. Happy-Go-Lucky is a film from Mike Leigh, a man whose last work was generally unhappy (Vera Drake - described by Cinemafool in the 2005 review as “well acted, but fairly loose on plot and so, so dreary“). It features Poppy (the superb Sally Hawkins), a 30 year-old who sees everything half full. She embraces life, tries to make everyone else happy, and is generally a nice person. In reality, anyone that happy and lively is most likely tucking away all the niggling unhappiness, saving it for massive unrelenting sessions of grief when she’s completely alone. They didn’t show that - it might have gone against the point. But I’m just saying. It’ll be one of the deleted scenes.

Being more of a character study than a plot-filled romp, HGL struggles at first as Poppy’s endlessly cheery nature begins to grate. We watch her be happy at a series of characters, and the point of it all starts to be in question. But then Poppy enrols on driving lessons and we get Scott (Eddie Marsan), and everything becomes supremely better. The driving lesson scenes are pure genius, a pitbull of anger and insanity versus a balloon of happiness and, err, insanity. Half way through and my opinion had completely reversed. But as the film continues, that same sense of “and we’re watching this because…?” looms in, and though some areas - the Flamenco lesson, the trip to the physio (hurray!), the impossibly gorgeous social worker - are pleasant to watch, others - the wedged-in tramp scene - test your patience, and this two hour film does start to test you, even when you’re full of yummy donuts.

What is refreshing to see, however, is a film with predominantly female characters who aren’t prancing about trying to look gorgeous, pining over blokes, “gossiping” and, well, being like in the Sex & the City trailer. As in, supposedly strong female role models but in fact botoxed Hollywood lovelies designed to continue to make normal women feel like shit. The women in Happy-Go-Lucky are normal women. They like to dress up and have a good time. They have jobs. They slob about at home. They talk about feelings. They take the piss out of each other. There is no learning curve, no revelation. No handsome man to make everything better (pretty much, anyway). Such a thing is rare, and for this I raise my hands in applause.

Siphon off the superfluous scenes around the driving lessons and bare bones of this colourful character, and you’d have a powerful film about making the most of life and, well, being happy. But as it stands, Happy-Go-Lucky is a mixed bag of laugh-out-loud hilarity and seat-shuffle tedium. It notches up a CF1, which is something to be happy about. Just not ecstatic.

23rd April 08 - In Bruges

2008-04-27T14:20:00.001Z

If there’s just one thing I want to talk about in this review, it is Colin Farrell’s eyebrows. Secondary to my fascination with odd mouths (see: Maggie Gyllenhaal, Meredith off Grey’s Anatomy, Alicia Silverstone, Meg Ryan) is my obsession with big eyebrows. Sandy off the OC was in the lead for size, David Tennant for flexibility, but Farrell has stormed in with eyebrows that are not only dominating in terms of size and colour, but they are also incredibly animated. If anything his eyebrows out-act him, which is a mean feat in itself because the little Irish man does manage to act his chops off in this, albeit in a slightly over-the-top way.

In Bruges is the story of two hit-men being sent to, you’ve guessed it, Bruges, after a botched job. Ken (Brendan Gleeson) is thrilled because he gets to look at lots of old buildings, but Ray (Colin Farrell - or Will Ferrell - or Colin Firth, depending on how you look at it) isn’t too pleased with the trip. Of course, the real reason for their destination is later uncovered in what is a hark back to the good old days of the 90s when we made a massive amount of British gangster type films that were both funny, entertaining, but also ultimately a bit stupid.

Despite being a bit familiar, In Bruges is a minty fresh blast of film, with a cast hamming it up to the nines (Ralph Fienne’s cockney persona keeping up with Farrell’s energetic brows) and some unexpectedly hilarious moments. Though the subject matter of most of the jokes is the stuff of The Sun, you can’t help but chuckle shamelessly as fatties, midgets and foreigners (including Americans) are poked fun at, taunted and punched in the face. Somehow, despite being twitchy killers, Farrell and Gleeson win you over, so the sudden switch in tone as the inevitable shoot-out begins brings with it a genuine tenseness as you care about what happens.

The script is sparky, if not a little film-school Guy Ritchie, but it makes this 90 minute film fly by with smiley fun. Couple it with a solid cast and a beautiful city and you’re on to a winner. In Bruges is in luck, because it made me enjoy it enough to award it a CF2. One point purely for the eyebrows.

15th April 08 - Son of Rambow

2008-04-27T14:17:00.001Z

Kids. Don’t you just love ‘em? Well, if you were to read back over last year's Simpsons review you’d discover the answer. There were some kids in this year’s Rambo, but the things that happened to them weren’t very nice. Was Son of Rambow going to follow the same lines, but with uglier detail? Alas no - it is instead a story of kids in 80s England, forging friendships and making their own film. Look, they even spelt his name wrong in the title. Bless.

Son of Rambow combines aspects seen in many other films. There’s the joy and creativity of making your own film (Gondry’s Bekind Rewind), the growing friendship between quiet loner and bad boy (Stand By Me), the pained relationship between big and little brothers (Kes - albeit this is thankfully cheerier) and the pitfalls of having a French exchange student come to visit (Slap her, she’s French). Ok, maybe not the last one.

We have mouse-boy Will (Bill Milner), a softly spoken, kind-hearted loner who loves to draw and whose imagination runs riot. He meets naughty Lee (Will Poulter), a right cock-er-ny straight out of Oliver-cor-blimey, who is good at heart but still a bit of a shit. Will’s family is pretty loaded, however, and he has himself a camcorder and a love of Rambo. The boys start to make their own version, using a myriad of clever devices and an impressive, if not unbelievable knack of being able to edit together a massive amount of footage, add in quality sound without even using proper sound recording equipment, and create a piece of film that looks like a professional has tried to make something that looks like non-professionals have made it. Or something.

With side-stories of mouse-boy’s struggle against his oddly religious family (with mother played superbly by Jessica Stevenson) and the usual jealousies and misunderstandings that can occur with friendships across social boundaries, Son of Rambow is a bog-standard drama, with whimsical humour and some slightly pointless but amusing sub-plots.

It’s sweet and easy to watch (although does drag in places) but its point is unclear and either clichéd or underdeveloped. Heart-warming, yes. But by only dabbling in its numerous themes we only get a dabble of comedy, a dabble of amateur filmmaking, a dabble of meatier social issues, etc etc. As such, though it was enjoyable, it only had a dabble of an impact. I’m well aware you can’t get a dabble of anything, dabble being a verb, but I’ve got the word in my head now and as it’s akin to dribble, I thought I’d try using it. Sorry - a dabble of digression there. Anyway, nice to watch but nothing more, Son of Rambow gets a dabble of a CF0.

9th April 08 - The Orphanage

2008-04-13T09:09:00.002Z

If I were to make a list of everything that scares me it’d go along the lines of wasps, fire, zombies, Animal from the muppets, and small creepy dead children. If The Orphanage featured any more than the one item from this list, it’d be probably the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. And also the most surreal. Thankfully though it keeps with just small creepy dead children, and leaves the flaming zombie wasps and crazy pink puppet drummers out of it.

So rather than nightmarish terror, it’s simply bloody scary. The plot is a pretty basic ghost story, with a big house full of a grisly history, and therefore grisly ghosties knocking about. Said house used to be an orphanage, and its past inhabitant Laura (Belen Rueda) moves back in as an adult with her doctor husband and adopted son Simon. Little Simon already has some imaginary friends but his new abode offers new playmates, only these ones might not be as imaginary as you’d like. What follows is an ever increasing series of poo-your-pants scares and hide-behind-your-coat set-ups.

What differentiates this film from many other paint-by-numbers fright-fests is the emotional ties you develop with the characters and the more measured approach to the tone. Many horrors feature failed models running around with few clothes on, making stupid decisions (to quote the great Eddie Izzard: “I heard a noise in the woods. I’ll go and investigate - and I’ll take a thimble with me for protection.”) You generally don’t care about the characters and are more interested in watching them get picked off one by one than actually wanting them to survive. But Laura is introduced carefully, letting us see her caring and fun side, the great mother-figure, so that when she starts doing dumb things like checking out the strange noise or heading into the darkened corridor, you know that she’s doing it for a reason. She’s scared but determined, and though you’re scared too, you also want her to succeed.

It’s a good sign when the producer is Guillermo del Toro, the director of CF top 10 Pan’s Labyrinth and The Devil’s Backbone, which The Orphanage has been compared to. But The Orphanage lacks the depth and odd-beauty of the superior Backbone, being tied down to ghost horror clichés and occasional cheap scares. I throw this criticism in the works to explain why it doesn’t gain a higher CF rating. The Orphanage is still a powerful, cleverly crafted piece of film, with some extraordinary directing from Juan Antonio Bayona that makes some scenes like the 1-2-3 game just insanely tense.

It didn’t give me nightmares, but was scary enough to make me turn on every light in my house that evening just to eradicate the chances of a hidden ghostie, and to whimper in misery the following day when my friend appeared with a pillow-case over her head, growling softly. The meanie. So for chills with an emotional core, The Orphanage brightens up spring with a CF2. Don your best pair of brown trousers and go watch.

2nd April 08 - 27 Dresses

2008-04-05T13:05:00.001Z

Before talking about 27 Dresses, can I just point out that we saw three trailers for rom-coms before this film, and all three were set in New York (we’ll let the Sex & the City one off since that’s its angle anyway, although I now know EVERYTHING that happens. Seriously, it’s supposed to make us want to watch it, not condense the plot into five minutes.) I’m probably heading to that city later in the year, so therefore look forward to some sort of romantic but hilarious misunderstanding. It seems to be the city to have them.

Anyway, back to the film. 27 Dresses takes place in New York (I’m saying nothing…) and follows Jane (Katherine Heigl), a girl who’s ever the bridesmaid, never the bride. It is a by-the-book rom-com, which means Jane’s in love with her dashing boss, who doesn’t really reciprocate, meanwhile annoying but quietly sexy reporter Kevin (James Marsden) is on the side line, who Jane hates but ends up spending lots of time with and, oh - here’s a surprise - they fall in love. Aw.

What did I expect, though? And, to be fair, when done well a rom-com does have a certain charm, like a big pink marshmallow. On the surface substantial, inside a bit airy, quite sweet and satisfying to consume, but too many will make you eject pretty-coloured vomit. My main gripe, which I’ve mentioned many times before, is the unrealistic picture they paint, and the ensuing bitterness they create. Let’s face it, never ever do you get a sexy charmer constantly pester you in a series of extravagant gestures, who you bicker with and despise but eventually love their pants off. Never. You either get a sexy charmer who you hate because he’s an arse hole - and he forever remains an arse hole. Or you get the mentally-skewed obsessive, who carves “I love you” into his forearm, but has enough brains to do it in a mirror-image so he can create a printed Valentines card, which at first looks like its been created with a reddy-brown paint until you realise the horrific truth, and slap a restraining order on him while quivering at home, wondering why it’s only the crazy ones and never the arse holes, who may be arse holes but are at least a lot easier to shout at.

And if you’re a woman reading this and thinking “well, I always get sexy charmers pestering me with gifts” then, well, you’re quite obviously a cow. So there.

27 Dresses is saved from pink-sick zone by its star, the ever likeable Katherine Hiegl who manages to be funny, pretty and yet ordinary enough to be believable. There’s a lot more drama in it than comedy, and it suffers for it under the weight of a hefty running time considering the subject matter. But with enough zest between the leads, some amusing moments and characters you can care about, it just about lifts itself to the recommended CF0. But possibly because it gave me the chance to vent about matters completely unrelated to the film. And anything that gives me the excuse to rant scores points in my book.

26th March 08 - Lars and the Real Girl

2008-03-26T13:02:00.000Z

Back in 2006 I reviewed Half Nelson (a CF Top 10) and swooned over its Oscar-nommed star Ryan Gosling who “looks good with a beard”. It seems that even when he’s put on weight, has terrible hair and suffers with monumental social problems, he’s still pretty sweet. I mean, he’s in love with a sex doll. How much sweeter can you get?

Before we sink into smut territory, remember that our Lars is a gentle soul, religious to boot, so there’s no kinky stuff with the doll. He’s just so painfully frightened of forming human relationships that he invents one with an inanimate object. To be fair, he’s seriously mentally handicapped. I did say he was religious, didn’t I… Ho ho.

So Lars and the Real Girl is the story of Lars’ “relationship” and how it is handled by his family and friends. It’s funny - how can it not be, given the subject matter - especially the initial introductions to his new woman and an awkwardly hilarious dinner with his brother and sister-in-law. It’s also sort of sad - how can it not be, given the subject matter… Poor Lars is battling with many demons, and the film deals with themes of loneliness (“sometimes I get so lonely I forget what day it is”) and the importance of human interaction.

Gosling wheels out parts of his Nelson performance with plenty of ticks and twitches added to Lars’ mannerisms, but he also sells the love felt for the doll and makes Lars a sympathetic character, which isn’t an easy task to be fair. Under other hands he could have been a comedic caricature or an unpleasant weirdo, but Gosling makes him fragile, confused and, most importantly, watchable.

Despite the sombre moments, Lars and the Real Girl is predominantly a sweet and, dare I say it, “quirky” indie film, but by keeping it sweet the film loses a bit of oomph and falters under the running time. Yes, it’s gently amusing and moving to see Lars’ relationship with a doll. Yep, it’s still that. Ok, we’re still doing that. Right, we’re losing interest.

In fact, it’s taken me nearly two weeks to write this review, which is never a good sign. I neither disliked it enough to scathe, or loved it enough to swoon. It’s certainly something a bit different, and Gosling is definitely worth watching (although Emily Mortimer as his sister-in-law is also a strong point). But it doesn’t spark any further points above a CF0. Sorry Lars.

19th March 08 - Rambo

2008-03-21T21:33:00.002Z

Oh dear. What has the world come to? This week I was reduced to a choice between Rambo and The Other Boleyn Girl. Like being stuck between a rock and a smug place. In the end we went for the rock, in the form of Rambo. A big, solid, faceless piece of rock, that could have elements of useful minerals running through it, but could also be one of those things that look like a rock, but is actually a large stale dog turd.

I’ve never seen a Rambo film before, and I’m neither ashamed nor proud to admit that. I just haven’t. So the thought of a new Rambo didn’t particularly excite or offend me, apart from a raised eyebrow at yet another action franchise being reborn (along with Rocky, Die Hard, Indiana et al) with the same haggard star crumbling out of the woodwork to try and relive their glory days, albeit in a slightly slower, more arthritic fashion.

So. Rambo. Here’s the gist: some Christians want to go to Burma to help out a peaceful community caught in a grisly civil war. They enlist Rambo to get them out there (he’s hanging out with snakes and stuff). The Christians get captured by the Evil Foreign soldier types. Rambo goes out to save them with some good guys, and they slaughter all the bad guys. Then they go home.

That’s literally the entire plot. In fact, the plot stops mid-way through and the rest of the film is one long bloody mash of carnage. Initially the violence is shocking and uncomfortable, especially as it’s very likely to be happening out in Burma in real life right now (no one seems to be trying to stop any of it, though. Pity there’s nothing, um, “valuable” in Burma, eh? Otherwise certain folk would be marching in there, ready to “save“ them…)

But once the blood bath begins, reality goes out the window, probably accompanied by a couple of severed limbs. We see legs fly off, blood gush out of massive holes, arrows shoot through faces, heads actually explode. It is reminiscent of certain deaths in Team America: World Police (they were puppets filled with meat splatting on pavements, if you didn’t know). Duh-duh-duh goes Rambo’s magic gun that makes trees implode. Duh-duh-duh goes the naff heavy metal soundtrack. Duh-duh-duh goes, worryingly, the hearts of teenage fools thinking this is great. Ha-ha-ha goes my laugh, genuinely enjoying it but probably not quite as intended.

I think this has been the funniest film of the year so far. Just looking at Stallone is enough to crack me up. It looks like he’s tried to have botox but used porridge by mistake. His heart-warming revelations about himself (he’s not particularly patriotic. He just likes killing people) are mirrored by the beautiful moment when a Christian learns to leave his prejudices against violence aside, and beats someone to death with a rock. Hurray!

Laughter and enjoyment aside, it is slightly disconcerting that your average tabloid reader will watch this and see horrific acts by foreign looking people against whimpering and ultimately faceless foreigners, and then American and Brit soldiers, all with names and vague personalities waltz in, destroy everything, and waltz back out again in an uplifting finale. Way to humanise the plight of the Burmese, Stallone. You’ve just boxed them into the pleb majority’s heads as “those extras that got blitzed by Rambo’s gun.”

Anyway, I can clamber off my soap-box long enough to debate how on earth to rate this film. On the one hand it was a bloody funny way to pass the time and left me with a huge smirk on my face. On the other it was plotless, pointless, horrific and potentially damaging to the apathetic teenage population. On those grounds I can neither award it points, or subtract, and so it sits comfortable at a CF0. And I’ll say this: it’s a million times better than watching Smug Johansson. Ha!

12th March 08 - Jumper

2008-03-16T21:40:00.001Z

Disappointment this week. There I was, eagerly anticipating an exciting yarn about a man who knits sweaters with super-speed all over the globe. How misleading can one title be, eh? Instead we get a tale that is, in theory, pretty damn cool. “Jumpers” are teleporters - lucky gits who can transport themselves anywhere they can think of in the blink of a smug special effect. One such “jumper” is David Rice (Hayden Christensen) who lives the life of riley, robbing banks, lounging in Egypt, surfing, visiting a rainy England - and all in one day if he so pleases. The only thorn in his side is the girl next-door he left behind. Oh, and some guys in grey polo-necks who like to track down his kind and obliterate them. Spoil-sports.

Yup, Jumper has the makings of an uber-cool blockbuster with brains. Smashing effects, new super-powers giving rise to original set-pieces and a bit of fun underlying subtext (stuffy old folks don’t like the fact that these young-guns can do whatever the hell they like, and the effect of living life while ignoring consequence). Plus director Doug Liman brought us the overly popular Bourne Identity and eye-candy nonsense of Mr & Mrs Smith. What can go wrong?

Well. Unfortunately the pacing and script tried to match the jumping abilities of the film’s hero, leaving a trail of open-ended, under-developed tosh while skipping on to the Next Fight Scene. Some scenes go as follows:

Good Guy: Hey, who are you?
Bad Guy: I’m the bad guy. I want to kill you because I do.
Good Guy: Really? Damn.

That’s about as deep as they get. Which is a shame, because everywhere you look there are “nearly” moments, when the film comes close to being really good. David’s deepening loneliness, from a broken home and - nearly. A sweet love story with a sparky girl who - nearly. Tragic events that cause a change of - nearly. A twist in the tale that could provide some brilliant tension and - oh, it’s finished.

It’s all quite frustrating. Not least because Jamie Bell, who storms in to take the glory with his twitchy, scruffy version of a jumper turning the tables on his hunters, is paraded in front of us, then miserably ditched in favour of Hayden’s more bland “hero”. Not that Hayden doesn’t do too bad a job. He emotes with his big eyes, and I was reasonably attracted to him, which is always a good starting point. Then there’s Samuel L Jackson as the big bad, who would be scary if it wasn’t for the fact that he has laughably white hair and is named Roland.

It’s all the more frustrating because there are some great moments, be it the teleport fights (teleport a bus at them - that’ll do it) or the fact that our goodie isn’t really that great (blithely ignoring a natural disaster in favour of getting some totty in London). But what could have been a zesty sci-fi tart is in fact a haphazard and deflated flan. Jumper slumps to a CF-1. Stick it on for Saturday night-in entertainment. But don’t jump to see it at the cinema.

5th March 08 - Be Kind Rewind

2008-03-09T13:47:00.001Z

Like a Mr Levitt, or any actor whose name can be preceded with “lovely”, you could say I am a might biased towards the work of Michel Gondry. Well, biased isn’t the right term - I just adore his work. Last year’s Science of Sleep easily claimed a spot on the top ten, and his teaming with the genius of Kaufman on Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind earned a place on my top ten of all time (a secret, ever changing list that may occasionally include The Transporter Two if I happen to be in a silly mood and recall the “it’s a potato” line).

So here comes Gondry with his second solo director/writer project, and where Science focussed on his dream obsession, Be Kind Rewind picks out his love for all things homemade. As anyone who has ever attempted it will know, home filmmaking is a monstrously fun mission. My own forays include “Dagger Woman”, an ambitious piece attempted during childhood, set at sea, and filmed in my living room (with a tub of water next to the camera for sound effects) and more recently the formation of DogEgg Productions, which has already spawned two classics with some up and coming stars.

Gondry knows the creativity that flows in even the simplest of pieces, and the joy it can bring to its makers. It’s this simple concept, and that of community, that binds Be Kind, but its premise is slightly more obscure. Mike (Mos Def) runs a video store whose tapes are wiped in a freak accident by his freak friend Jerry (Jack Black). To save the store they’ve got to remake the videos, fast. Cue superb re-hashes of the likes of Ghostbusters, Rush Hour Two, Robocop and Driving Miss Daisy. The film is peppered with Gondryisms, in the ingenious use of household items for props, to the mind boggling effects created from the simplest of ideas, to the rolling shot with switching perspectives, seen in some of his earlier adverts and music videos.

But tramping over Gondry’s charm is a Jack Black shaped nuisance. Stamping his name over every piece of promo for this film clouded many people’s minds into believing this was a “Jack Black comedy”. God forbid. It’s actually almost entirely under Gondry’s control, meaning it’s subtle, gentle, obscure, charming, bizarre. French. But with Jack Black attempting every now and then to do a funny crazy guy rant, the tone is skewed into an unfunny Jack Black moment. It’s almost like they have to stop the film for a minute, let Jack pretend to do his funny bit, then carry on, wincing slightly but knowing that if you didn’t let him do it then he’d never shut up. Example: Black’s endless “I’m wacky” routine pauses and a flash of Gondry appears - an inspired idea for camouflage. Film improves by a million percent. Jack strains to have his moment back again. Film dips.

It’s not that I despise Jack Black. He’s reasonably funny for an unfunny person. I just didn’t think he fit the rest of the film. Mos Def quietly gets on with a cracking yet understated performance. The rest of the neighbourhood are a cornucopia of loveable (if not partially clichéd) misfits. The film doesn’t need a lead comedian because it’s lead isn’t comedy. It’s heart-warming odd-ball type stuff. And though my heart was warmed every time I spotted some Gondry (Christ I don’t half sound obsessed, do I) it was chilled when the tone tried to be something different.

A simple, creative and original piece of film, with discreet comedy and an unfortunate clash in leading styles, Be Kind Rewind didn’t delight as much as I’d hoped, but is still a minty blast of refreshing air, especially after having to sit through a “Meet the Spartans” trailer. It rewinds to a CF2.

23rd Feb 08 - There Will Be Blood

2008-02-24T21:57:00.002Z

We squeezed this one in just before the Oscars to ensure I see the majority of nominated films and can therefore have a well-informed opinion. Not that a lack of information would stop me from having an opinion of course. And not that I go out and watch a film just because it’s been nominated for an Oscar. Atonement has scored plenty of prizes but you don’t see me clamouring to watch that. Period drama featuring smug skeletor Knightley? No thank you.

There Will Be Blood would have been on my cinema menu awards-laden or not, being from P.T. Anderson, the director of Magnolia (a languid beast of a film) and staring Daniel Day-Lewis, whose accents are so delicious to listen to (see: Gangs of New York) that I’d even stoop to watching him in a period drama with Knightley, as long as he spent the majority of the film talking in a thick accent about how rubbish she is.

Anderson’s newest piece is another languid beast, only one that wakes up every now and then and delivers a punishing bite. It tells the tale of Daniel Plainview, an “oil-man” who’s fantastic at what he does, but also develops unfortunate personality traits such as wanting to be better than everyone. Nothing wrong with that, I say, but Daniel takes it to the extreme during the course of his life, perhaps further than I ever would. You’ll see what I mean if you watch it. In fact, I won’t go further into the plot as it’ll ruin the ebb and flow of the story, and also because it’s three hours long and would take me forever to explain.

Instead, I’ll say that it’s good. Want more detail than that? Ok. It’s both a fascinating character study and an epic tale of greed, striking chords with folk who strive relentlessly for success despite its ensuing isolation, or who, you know, like oil a lot. Day-Lewis is of course excellent, although the crazier side to Daniel is perhaps reminiscent of his turn in Gangs. What’s more interesting is when he shows us the cracks, be it tender moments with his son or the bitter stubbornness that’s the fuse to his dynamite. But it’s Paul Dano (the silent teen in Little Miss Sunshine) who really impresses as a preacher-type, his demeanour being calm, suspicious, manipulative - well, he does claim to channel his lord. His creepy religious obsessives (“congregation” I believe they’re called) are offset against Daniel’s lust for control. Both as crazy as each other was my take, and thankfully there was a lack of “money bad, religion good” philosophy, with questionable actions on both parts.

An impressive score by Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood keeps your attention snapped to the screen and builds a tone that is ominous and unexpected. You can easily get lost in the depths of this film, with its substantial running time, measured pace and unknown plot directions. But lost in a good way - it’s not easy for a three hour film to hold you, and much as I likened the Coen’s No Country for Old Men to a walk out in a vast wilderness, There Will Be Blood is not a film experience to be undertaken lightly, but will be rewarding to those who attempt it. I’ve been highly impressed by the films of 2008 so far (unbaked Dylan aside) and There Will Be Blood keeps up the standard with yet another CF3. Let’s see what the Oscars say. Or - as I predict - let’s disagree…

20th Feb 08 - The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

2008-02-24T16:35:00.000Z

I’ve just bought myself a coffee percolator. It makes noises like Darth Vader underwater and has made me a tad hyper, both from the excitement of having a new toy to play with and also from drinking an extortionate amount of Columbian coffee. I’ve wanted to get one of these things for ages but never really got round to it. But this week I realised that I might have a massive, unexplained cerebral accident tomorrow and lose the ability to use any of my body save for one eyelid. So I decided that if I wanted a coffee percolator then I’d better bloody get one now before it’s too late.

Of course, such a revelation is weirdly specific (most people going with “I might get hit by a bus”) because of this week’s film, The Diving Bell & the Butterfly, which is based on the book written by Jean-Dominique Bauby, the French Elle magazine editor who suffered a stroke at the age of 43 and fell into what is known as “locked in syndrome”. His brain was still very much intact but his body was a bit rubbish, and he could only communicate via blinking his right eye. It was in this state that he dictated his book, and it gives a fascinating and unsettling insight into his world.

The film is from Bauby’s point of view, often literally. In fact the first half is almost entirely viewed through his one useful eye (the other one is sewn up in a “eeeeeeeeewwwww” moment where we see needle and thread action from the inside of the eyelid) with his internal dialogue guiding us through his emotional journey and flashbacks to his old life adding to the bitterness of his resulting incapacities. It sounds depressing as hell, but there is a comedic line throughout, Bauby retaining his sense of humour as he watches the world from his “diving bell”. Thank god for comedy, as it lifts the sometimes overwhelming sadness into an emotionally powerful but still enjoyable piece of film.

Oscar nominated director Julian Schnabel has a field day (often with the “out of focus button”) but to captivating effect, the blurred, dream-like P.O.V shots merge into Bauby’s imagination, with swirling colours and sweeping images like mini artworks strung together. But rather than stray off into arty-farty zone, Schnabel ties it down in the real world, and the film is sometimes harshly edited between then and now, jarring those emotions again. There was a point where the P.O.V camera blurred up from Bauby’s tears, matching my own blurred vision and that of almost the entire cinema.

Mathieu Amalric masters the difficult lead role, the majority of his performance sieved through a single eyeball. His helpers are a gang of remarkably beautiful ladies (this is the Frenchest of French films). Their performances all superb, especially as one plays a physio - and as we know, all physios are highly intelligent, beautiful and fantastic.

Though it sounds like another foray into depressing foreign film territory, don’t let the subject matter or subtitles turn you away. This film is both uplifting and upsetting, beautifully shot and acted, altogether emotionally gratifying, and will possibly make you go out and buy a coffee percolator. A wholesome film for the soul, it glides in with a CF3. Now then… I might just go make some more coffee.

15th Feb 08 - Cloverfield

2008-02-16T18:43:00.001Z

Monster! There’s a fricking great monster! And oh look. It’s in New York. The current hotspot for all monsters, disasters and sassy rom-coms. Location included, Cloverfield delivers every monster invasion cliché you could imagine, from the screaming army commanders in their billowing plastic tents, to unnecessary missions to rescue damsels in distress, to ludicrous romance in the face of chaos, to slowly building visuals of the scary foe until the final reveal that’s always a little disappointing. Cloverfield’s setting is just another crappo monster film. But it’s done something a bit clever. It’s taken your basic crappo monster film, honed in on one of the running, screaming extras you always see in the background, and given them a camera.

Ah the genius of a simple idea. Suddenly the world of crappo monster films is turned upside down, approached from a fresh angle with staggering effect. The army are still doing their shouty thing, but we’re running past them, wincing at the super loud rockets they’re firing, hoping they know what the hell they’re doing and ducking behind cars to avoid getting caught in the cross-fire or squished by a massive foot. It’s chaotic, dazzling and down-right frightening, sucking away all the roll-your-eyes, here it comes blandness of a typical monster-yawn and replacing it with in-your-face excitement.

Even the cast of characters are rent-a-victim cut-outs, with the heroic lead, his beautiful romantic interest, the nerdy one who makes witty asides, the sardonic girl, and the token minority. But as they carry their camcorder about, either running for their lives or cowering in a corner, they lose the chance to have powerful speeches over the national anthem, or do something heroic in slow motion to the power chords of Aerosmith. They’re just people running about. And you’re right there with them, the audience watching everything through the camera lens. You run when they run. You roll across the ground when they drop the camera. It’s shake-tastic camera work, not surprising considering JJ Abrams is in the producing chair (his philosophy on Lost: if the scene is supposed to be dramatic, then shake that camera goddamnit! Shake it so the audience knows! You can picture the cameraman saying “but surely the music and the plot will make it dramatic?” and Abrams whacks the camera out of his hands in annoyance and berates him with “no, you fool! They won’t know it’s dramatic unless you shake that camera like it’s a can of whipped cream. Now shake it! SHAKE IT!!”)

Sorry, off on a tangent there. Where was I? Ah - shaky-cam. Yes, droves of people have been complaining of motion sickness, and though it can be difficult to watch at times, I’d say you could only get motion sickness if you felt queasy with simple things like rollercoasters, banana flavoured beer, or just generally moving around.

Anyway, Cloverfield is a smart piece of film in terms of concept, and will have your heart beating and your fingers twitching to cover your eyes, especially when some fool suggests turning on the camera’s night vision. It’s good fun, though doesn’t justify the enormous internet hype and “mystery” built up around it over the last six months or so. And though the look and feel is pleasingly fresh, it is ultimately stuck in the confines of the monster-movie clichés. The lean running time is an indicator that though the idea is great, you can’t do a whole lot with it. So, an exciting B-movie done in an entirely new angle, Cloverfield racks up a CF2. And remember: if a giant monster attacks your city, make sure you keep your camera on at all times. At least that way we might get to see a disaster film that isn’t set in New York.

13th Feb 08 - Juno

2008-02-16T18:39:00.001Z

It’s half term, so the cinema was full of horrible teenagers, gaggling around with their young faces, doing what horrible teenagers do best - chatting on their phones, putting their hoods up, mugging old people and getting pregnant. Even on screen, there they were. Teenagers. Pregnant teenagers all younger than me and horrible.

Ok, maybe on screen it was just the one pregnant teen. And that was, of course, Juno. This year’s token “non-weighty/epic” Oscar fodder. To be honest I wasn’t expecting to like this all that much. The TV adverts featured a voiceover man gaily proclaiming that “everyone’s falling for Juno!” Posters were plastered on every other bus, with comments from magazines like Heat, New Woman, Vapid Lifestyles, and Blindly Following Celebrities Instead of Focussing on Real Issues weekly. The film itself features cutesy animated titles and a soundtrack full of two chord tinkles with sugary vocals. It was all pushing my “reject with a miserable sneer” button, often engaged when “everyone falls” for a film I decide isn’t good enough but probably wouldn’t have minded if it didn’t have the hype. See, I can admit flaws like that because I’m a better person. Better than everyone else - have you seen the intro to this site?

Anyway, thankfully some of the clever papers gave this good reviews too, so it was ok for me to like it. And like it I did, to a large extent. The story is Orlando-simple. Sixteen year-old Juno gets preggars by mistake and decides to give her baby up for adoption to a desperate couple. Take the tone one way and you could end up with issues-a-plenty, but Juno heads into the wry comedy zone and nails it. Ellen Page (who did the snipping in Hard Candy) sassess it up as the title character, taking Diablo Cody’s script (also Oscar-nommed) and jabbing sardonic quip after sardonic quip at the lens, but not without a few moments of genuine emotion - check out the quivering mouth-corner during one crying episode. Now that’s what you call control.

Page is supported by an equally strong cast, with Michael Cera (Superbad) playing his now trade-mark quiet but sweet role, his Arrested Development co-star Jason Bateman as the slightly iffy adoptive daddy to be, and equine skeleton Jennifer Garner gets landed with the straight part, but does a darn good job as the non-mother who just wants a baby.

But Juno is a way off a perfect CF5, and that’s because it doesn’t really deliver anything new or try to say anything too profound. Not that every film has to, and not that a film can’t just entertain on its own merits, which this certainly does. But without a steady influx of big belly-laughs, Juno can’t just hang its hat on the comedy peg (one-liners to make you chuckle being its standpoint). The script crackles with wit and off-beat humour, but displaces the cast into Dawson’s Creek / The OC territory, meaning you never really believe these characters could be real. So what’s left is a reasonable drama with some gestures towards themes like love, parenthood and the obvious teenage pregnancy stigma. Such lacking in full-on comedy or drama means Juno stops its climb up the CF ranks at a CF1. I’m not miserably sneering at it, but I’ve certainly not fallen for Juno. She is a teenager after all.

6th Feb 08 - No Country for Old Men

2008-02-10T10:24:00.000Z

A welcome return to the cinema after a mini break sees also a welcome return by the Coen brothers with their awards-laden No Country for Old Men. Rather than the standard avenues or predictable high streets of many film efforts, the Coens’ films are like sprawling landscapes, with an unclear route through, overlapping hills on the horizon, unexpected dips, and the occasional hillock jutting up here and there. Their films often need to be seen more than once to absorb them entirely and hoover up every subtle detail (eg. Fargo, O Brother Where Art Tho, The Big Lebowski.) They’re no walk in the park, but nine times out of ten it’s worth the extra effort to break through the crust and gain the meaty film centre.

I’ve just mixed a landscape analogy with a pie analogy, but I’m sure you understand what I mean (or you can pretend to, so people think you’re dead clever like what I am). Anyway, No Country is another very Coen-like piece, its collection of weird, wonderful and down-right scary characters are inter-linked by a big bag of money (mirrored in the likes of Fargo, Lebowski et al). Quietly cool hunter Llewelyn (Josh Brolin - nailing the resourceful hero routine perfectly) stumbles across a pot of cash. Unfortunately for him, an equally quietly cool hunter Anton (Javier Bardem, like a warped toy lion with his mane patted down) would like to get the cash back, only this hunter is morally devoid and a tad insane. He also carries round a big air-gun type thing, useful for blowing locks off doors, and brains out of heads. Following the trail of bodies is wizened sheriff Ed (Tommy Lee Jones, echoing his turn in 2006’s Three Burials and sporting massive ear lobes). It could be a straight forward cat n’ mouse (and giant ear-lobed dog) escapade, but the Coens chuck in curve ball after curve ball to keep the plot fresh, and with an expanse of set pieces so large that you probably really do need to watch it all over again just to recall everything that happens.

The stand-out character is immediately Anton Chigurh. He is violence personified; unstoppable, destructive, without mercy. All the while sporting a gas canister and a bizarre hair-do. The violence is brutal without being too showy. It’s the aftermath that the Coens prefer to hone in on, and the close-up view of a shot gun wound being cleaned out is enough to make you wincingly shuffle in your seat. That’s not the only time you’ll be doing the old seat-shuffle, though. No Country is peppered with terrific scenes, with tense “waiting for the pounce” moments, gripping duels set over a myriad of corners and cars to hide behind, and a dog-v-man swimming race that’s both hilarious and also downright terrifying. Tommy Lee’s sheriff brings an aspect of calm to the proceedings, as well as some of the comedy punches that are littered throughout.

Despite the comedy, this is a dark film overall, with sombre closing thoughts (humans have always been, and will always be, violent shits to each other. Hurray!) and a running time and scope that will take some time to digest. A bit like eating a really big pie. After taking a walk through a vast landscape somewhere. You can’t do these activities off the cuff, or in your lunch hour, and they’ll most likely have an effect on you for a fair while after. But sometimes a brief stroll round the block and a quick pasty just doesn’t really satisfy.

So, to conclude: No Country has steadily risen up the CF ranks the more I’ve considered it. Powerful, thrilling and chock full of memorable performances, it has finally climbed up to a CF3. Save up the energy for a big walk / pie and go see it. Like one of those relatives you like spending time with but… oh I’ll stop with the analogies. Sorry.

17th Jan 08 - 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days

2008-01-20T14:29:00.000Z

Crikey. What a cinema experience. Traumatic isn’t the word. Ok, so what do you expect when you decide to watch a Romanian film about abortion? Certainly not a laugh-a-minute rom-com, with hilarious misunderstandings and a slap-stick interlude where people slip up on some mess and everyone has a good giggle. No, we knew this was going to be a tough-one, but with critics praising (although as the shitey Dylon biog proved, that isn’t always a good sign) and awards folk prowling (Golden Globe nominated, and potentially Oscar, although we’ll find out more this week) this was a film that had to be checked out. Plus, how smart do I look watching a Romanian film eh? Go on, say it. I’m well clever me. I can read words on the screen and everything.

4-3-2 (as all the cool kids dub it) is justly praised in most respects, tackling an uncomfortable subject and setting it in 80’s Romania where such things are illegal and could land you a jail sentence. But meek student Gabriela is desperate, and enlists best friend Otilia to help her in her plight. The film is set over just one day, and follows the girls from their initial preparations, through to the event itself and subsequent aftermath. But just when you thought things couldn’t be bleak enough, their enlisted medical “helper” Bebe, a quiet middle-aged bloke in a nice jumper, throws a few extra unpleasant conditions their way. Vera Drake he ain’t, let’s just put it that way.

Using an unusual method of mostly static shots and lengthy scenes makes it feel in parts like you’re watching a play, and adds to the uncomfortable realism of it all. It works perfectly in places, especially during the price negotiation scene between Bebe and the girls, as the slow realisation of the real cost dawns on both girls. As each scene advances towards the inevitable, your growing tension matches that of Gabriela and it all makes for a very powerful experience. As I sat there watching Bebe unpack a variety of implements, I knew very much what was to come, and was pretty certain that actually I didn’t want to see it. But I was trapped, powerless to stop watching. It reminded me of a time I went on the Viper rollercoaster - the tallest looping coaster in the world - and suddenly realised as the train began to advance up the hill that actually I didn’t really want to go on it, and that getting into that seat was a really bad idea. But the restraints meant I couldn’t get off, and so I miserably watched as the train got higher and higher towards the unavoidable conclusion. I nearly blacked out on that first drop, but the rest was quite fun.

Speaking of blacking out, the main component of my traumatic cinema experience wasn’t the aborted foetus staring at me from the screen, but the petrifying antics of one of my companions, who is under strict instructions never to do that ever again. Ever. Thankfully all became well, but such activities meant I missed a small chunk of the middle of this film, and means that I’m not completely able to assess the film in full. Frankly, though, I don’t think I missed too much, and the general gist of the film - that of friendship, hardship and unrelenting awful occurrences - still came across strong. Amazing performances, bold direction and an undeniably powerful effect, 4-3-2 is certainly a remarkable piece of film. But not one that left me with any new thoughts, that I’d clamour to watch again, or that I’d particularly recommend to anyone else, unless I wanted them to think I was dead clever. Or a bit sick. So, bit of a struggle this one. I’ll settle for a CF0 rating, I think. Go on the Viper rollercoaster instead, though. It’s a lot quicker.

12th Jan 08 - Lust, Caution

2008-01-13T15:37:00.000Z

I couldn’t help but notice the audience for this film was made up of an interesting number of boys in their late teens / early twenties. They could have been there because of Ang Lee, fascinated to see what the director has in store for us next since his career has veered from period drama (Sense & Sensibility) to pretentious martial arts (Crouching Tiger) to men in love (Brokeback Mountain) to a big green bloke who you should keep away from when he’s a bit miffed (Hulk). They could have been there because they were absolutely fascinated with Chinese history during the end of the second world war, and were keen on watching a 157 minute film, largely in Mandarin, to find out more. Or, and forgive me for being a little bit cynical, they could well have picked this film because it features several scenes that are so graphic they have been dubbed by some as verging on porn.

But hey - even if the lads were after cheap thrills, they ended up subjecting themselves to a piece of richly satisfying and absorbing film. Perhaps the only chance they’ll get for such enrichment before stumbling back home to play on Champ Manager for seven hours. Anyhoo, back to Lust, Caution; two words explored in depth by Lee in this tale of a young girl enlisted to bring down a powerful but corrupt man by becoming his mistress. There’s a lot more going on in terms of plot, but rather than waste time explaining details, why don’t I just say it’s good, so go and see it.

Granted, the chunky running time and subtitles might put some off, and this isn’t the enjoyable time-waster that I Am Legend was. Lust, Caution will intrigue and repulse, lift and depress. For every lust portion, there’s certainly a caution. Long, sizzling stares between yearning characters; violent sexual assault. A softening heart and crumbling emotional barriers in the hardest of men; a distressing, drawn-out murder scene that had even the likes of me wincing. It sounds like hard work but surprisingly isn’t, with moments of comedy and a solid undercover plot behind it all that’s comfortingly familiar but adds extra elements of tension.

As for those scenes. Well, they certainly leave nothing to the imagination, acting in parts as a practical guide to the karma sutra. They are, however, used for a purpose, charting the relationship progression in ways no amount of frolicking in a field of flowers could manage. Plus you can play the “are they / aren’t they?” game - quite frankly some shots make it very difficult to tell what’s real. And if it’s not real, then you certainly have to marvel at the precise, err, I suppose you could use the term “tucking” that must have been involved.

Tucking aside, the film’s key players, Wei Tang and Tony Leung Chiu Wai, are superb, the look and feel is remarkably fresh considering it’s set in the stuffy past, and on a girly note there are some really pretty dresses. Brokeback was a powerful film, but too close to tragic love-story for me to fully enjoy (I’m not a fan of those). Lust, Caution has similar elements, but with a gripping plot, scintillating character interaction and an unusual blend of, well, lust and caution. It even stood up to the sleepy/slightly hung-over test, and therefore soars in with a CF3. Well done Ang!

9th Jan 08 - I Am Legend

2008-01-10T21:56:00.000Z

Scientists. Without them the world would be a much safer place. Granted, we wouldn’t have life saving advancements and all that. But do you know what else we wouldn’t have? Zombies. That’s right. Scientists causes zombies. It’s a well known fact, one that people seem to forget when a scientist starts talking about “mutating” things. What you should do is stop the scientist in their tracks. “Mutate?” you should interject, “Say, doesn’t that tend to produce hoards of zombies?” “Oh yeah,” the scientist will say. “I forgot.”

Just think of the millions of lives you’d save if you listened to me.

But alas, the folk in I Am Legend world didn’t pay any attention to me and now they’ve all buggered off, leaving a lone Will Smith with an empty New York and some scary mutated folk, who aren’t partial to sunlight but are pretty nippy and have sore tempers. Cue a tight zombie-esque film with spatterings of vampire inspired stay-in-the-sun-fun, sprinkled with your basic apocalypse survivor bleakness. And you don’t even need to know the back catalogue and full life history of the Fresh Prince in order to understand what’s going on. This is easily beating last week’s film already.

This isn’t a new concept, but its ace is the premise that Will Smith’s Robert Neville is the last man standing, left to face - and attempt to resolve - terrifying science mistakes. A tip of the hat to Big Willie, then, for managing to carry the film almost entirely on his own. When considering that his only real interaction is with an Alsatian or scary things that roar, it’s impressive that Will is entirely watchable throughout, never losing the audience’s attention or his own credibility, even when singing Bob Marley to a dog.

Legend also wins when it side-steps the clichés, shoving in some dark plot points and tackling our hero’s crumbling sanity (he likes mannequins… and Shrek). But in avoiding some clichés, it manages to blunder straight into others, and if you’ve seen one or more of the recent zombie efforts from the 28 Days/Weeks and Resident Evil franchise, to the likes of Romero and Shaun, then you’ll be able to guess many of the film’s next steps. Not all of them, mind. But most.

Still, considering this is from Francis Lawrence, the director of Constantine (the equivalent of excitable chatter from an imaginative but slightly stupid teenage boy) I Am Legend is a pretty good effort. Nicely paced, action gently handled instead of shaky quick-edit “excitement”, and some scenes that were scary enough to make the guy behind us actually shout out in fear. The enormous wimp. It’s also nice to see a film that can create tension, fear and shock without relying on buckets of gore, although it perhaps relied a little too heavily on average CGI (someone spent all their budget clearing New York, me thinks…)

A good solid Saturday night thriller, I am Legend racks up the recommended CF0, but to a zombie expert like myself it lacked enough originality to score any higher. Just watch out for those scientists, though. That’s all I can say.

2nd Jan 08 - I'm Not There

2008-01-03T14:09:00.000Z

Walk the Line, Ray, Control, The Robbie Williams Story (it will come out in our life-time, trust me). We’ve been up to our ear-holes with film biogs of music folk, all following the similar pattern of rise to success – get woman – have success – turn into dickhead – lose woman – die. Maybe with extra bits in-between, but to be honest I’m bored of them. Utterly bored. So up pops another one, this time about Bob Dylan, but this time with a whole new way of doing it. Scrap a linear story and have six different actors play the same guy at different stages in his life. Genius! Even feature a woman and a little boy. More genius!

Yes, director Todd Haynes struck pretentious gold with this one. It has all the makings of a fantastic film. An original format, a central character with oodles of life material to play on, and a handful of striking performances, with a stunning Cate Blanchett winning the acting race by a mile, followed by a surly Heath Ledger and a brooding Christian Bale. The critics were mewing over this film like kittens at the teat of the culture cat.

But here’s my take on it. This film is the equivalent of someone taking all the ingredients necessary to make the best cake in the world, putting them in a big bowl, mixing them all together, but then by-passing the oven that will unite them into a cohesive sponge and instead using the mixture to write a big, obscure Bob Dylan quote all over the wall. Artists and critics will gather and coo at the nonsensical creation, pleased they have something new and Turner-prize-like to try and give their vapid, talentless lives some semblance of meaning and provide a way to continue to unjustly separate themselves from uncultured proles. Meanwhile, I stand at the back of the room, frowning, not really understanding the quote because I don’t know about Bob Dylan. “Hey!” I say, suddenly. “What’s this supposed to be? Why did you do all that? You’ve used all those lovely ingredients and you’ve come up with this? I can’t eat that! Where’s my cake?” at which point the smug critics stop and stare at me, but I’m now too outraged at being deprived a good cake and I say again, but louder, “WHERE’S MY CAKE?”

I don’t get an answer.

So, as I sat in the cinema surrounded by noble Bob Dylan fans nodding sagely at the alienating references, I pondered several things. Why did Dylan name his female dog “Henry”? On the subtitles (we were at a slightly off-putting audio-described screening) why did they need to write “clamouring” to describe a crowd scene? Why could I smell burning toast? Where’s my cake? And was this film ever going to end?

My abstract cake rantings sum up my feelings towards this film, as does the fact that after finally staggering out of the cinema, my friends and I had more discussion over a tabasco sauce advert than the film itself. Though in parts the performances were superb, the film was still at times frustrating, incomprehensible and actually a bit boring. The critics can’t all be wrong, can they? When their opinions differ from Cinemafool, then yes. They can.

I’m Not There saves points in principle, but loses them in practice. So 2008 starts with a downer of CF-1. Things can only get better, though. Right?

And who names a girl dog Henry? Really.

The Cinemafool review of 2007

2008-01-01T16:38:00.000Z

That’s right! It’s that time of year again! More eagerly anticipated than the Oscars, more interesting and entertaining than any other half-wit’s top 10 list, and much shorter than the gajillion talking-heads top-100 shows that are now the only thing on telly. It’s the Cinemafool review of the year, where we look back over the last twelve months and point out films everyone should really have watched if they wanted to be considered “dead clever”, “cinema-savvy” and “fantastic” like what I am.

Last year’s tally was trumped by the skin of our teeth with a total of 44 new films. Alas, re-releases seen at the cinema (Blade Runner) or 2007 films watched later on DVD (the excellent Them, and nonsensical Inland Empire) are not included, simply because that’s the law we all must abide by. Hey, I don’t make the rules. Oh wait, I might…

The Top 10 of 2007

Anyway, first up is the hotly contended for “Top 10”. Are you ready? In chronological order:

The Science of Sleep
Seen: 28th February
Rating: CF4
What: Michel Gondry’s vast creative talents are applied to a tale of a chappy who just can’t separate dreams from reality - not a good place to be when trying to impress the new girlie neighbour.
I said then: I think the best word to describe it is charming. Utterly charming.
I say now: I basically have a soft spot for Gondry’s imagination, and this film was fun, sweet and brimming with Gondry-esque brilliance.
I also said: A lovely treat this week. Not only do I get to watch a fabulous film; I get to sit a comfortable distance from the screen.

Hot Fuzz
Seen: 7th March 07
Rating: CF3
What: The Shaun boys are back, swapping zombies for a love of action films with a tale of a super city bobby tackling life in a sleepy English village.
I said then: Big, bold and British, Hot Fuzz climbs the CF scale with its humour, but falters when the action become a little too ‘actiony’.
I say now: Watched twice at the cinema (reason below), this is a belter of a flick, marred only because I love Shaun of the Dead so much, and it isn’t quite as good.
I also said: post-wine, post-opening ten minutes, and post-any seats being available more than ten centimetres away from the screen.

Sunshine
Seen: 11th April 07
Rating: CF3
What: The 28 Days… team of Garland (pen) and Boyle (directing) return with a bit more money, a ridiculous sounding plot and a massive burning ball of gas.
I said then: Intimate, disturbing and claustrophobic as hell. Proper old-school sci-fi in space.
I say now: Despite going a little silly towards the end, Sunshine was a great romp. One of those romps that involve unbearable tension and horrific death. You know the kind.
I also said: I’ve had direct experience with the power of the sun, so I could really relate to the characters in this film as they risked immediate and complete combustion.

Half Nelson
Seen: 21st April 07
Rating: CF3
What: Ryan Gosling’s Oscar nominated performance as a skinny white teacher trying to help his class of racially opposite children and… oh boring. Seen it before. But this time, skinny white teacher happens to be addicted to crack. Oh dear…
I said then: Half Nelson pushes through all of my usual grievances and emerges as an original, engaging piece of work. Not your multiplex-filler, but stick with this film and you will be highly rewarded.
I say now: A small film with a big heart, driven by excellent performances and a mellow tone. Plus Ryan Gosling’s pretty hot.
I also said: I had a phase where I really was unable to eat just a single Mingle, but did I make myself the central character of a film and brood around with my affliction? No.

This is England
Seen: 2nd May
Rating: CF4
What: Shane Meadow’s foray into 80s skinhead culture via a little boy called Shaun, and a big man called Combo with unfortunate ideals.
I said then: This is England definitely packs a punch - actually, more like a head-butt to the face…
I say now: A good year for the Brits, This is England is powerful without being overly grim, relevant without shoving issues in your face, and funny without having characters say “bugger” all the time.
I also said: Like The Lion King, but with skinheads.

Zodiac
Seen: 23rd May 07
Rating: CF3
What: David Fincher’s crime thriller based on the real-life Zodiac killer, with lovely Jake, lovely Robert and lovely Mark.
I said then: this is a stocky beast, but the time flies by in a mixture of suspense and intrigue. With a great cast, a fascinating story (all the more because it’s true) and some clever direction, Zodiac makes a killing
I say now: Fincher manages to make the right balance between his fancy directing and letting the formidable (and lovely) cast do their thing. Zodiac was one piece of absorbing film.
I also said: It’s like he’s peed all over the film - wherever you look you’ll get a whiff of Fincher.

Knocked Up
Seen: 15th August 07
Rating: CF2
What: The start of Rogen and Apatow’s climb to the top of the comedy pile, Knocked Up tackles that gut-wrenching terror of getting up the duff by a total loser.
I said then: Definitely has elements to satisfy many different levels of audience, even those as high and mighty as me. Clever, cynical… refreshing to see a comedy emerge without a completely rose-tinted view of the romantic world.
I say now: I have to stick a few films in this top ten that aren’t overly pretentious (just a couple, anyway) and Knocked Up was a comedy that really impressed, not least because I got to see it for free. Way hey!
I also said: You don’t get the impression the writers have struggled for a punch-line and thought ‘sod it, make one of them fart instead’

The Lookout
Seen: 7th Nov 07
Rating: CF2
What: Joseph Gordon Levitt propels himself back on to the top 10 list second year running in a head-trauma/bank robbery indie film.
I said then: It’s Fargo style, with slightly eccentric villains, a dysfunctional collection of heroes and lots of cold settings… Good, solid first for the director and another cracking performance from Levitt.
I say now: What can I say? I just can’t resist the Levitt’s performances. This also sparks an amazing run of films in November (you’ll see…)
I also said: a barefaced lie created to appease unhappy single women

Eastern Promises
Seen: 14th November 07
Rating: CF3
What: David Cronenburg does it again (A History of Violence making the 2005 CF Top-10) with Viggo back in tow, this time as part of a Russian gang in London, clashing paths with an ickle baby and an “English” nurse. Oh, and he likes saunas. Well, probably not anymore.
I said then: This is a powerful film, with ace performances, a memory-stamping fight scene, some unexpected twirls in the plot and, did I mention, a naked, sweaty Viggo?
I say now: Naked, sweaty Viggo.
I also said: The guy’s got a cleft in his chin - a proven sign of genius

The Darjeeling Limited
Seen: 28th Nov 07
Rating: CF3
What: Wes Anderon’s tale of three brothers on a train. They walk in slow motion to cool tunes and there’s lots of close ups of their weirdly shaped noses. That’s about it.
I said then: Oddball, quirky, and any other clichéd adjective you want to throw in there to describe a film that’s different to the norm.
I say now: Let down by the last twenty minutes, this film still barges its way on to the top 10 because of its central performances and how much they made me smile. Simple as that.
I also said: My natural facial expression is that of contempt.

2007: The Losers

Last year there was a crop of stinkers that angered and befuddled. Due to the avoidance of a particular pirate crew, this year there haven’t been quite so many upsets. But a few films didn’t half disappoint.

Shrek the Third
Seen: 4th July 07
Rating: CF0 (scraped)
“The whole film feels a bit like my attitude when trying to park in a small space at Tesco. It’s all pretty much in there, so sod it - that’ll do.”

Superbad
Seen: 19th Sep 07
Rating: CF-1
“I wouldn’t really recommend it to many people, unless I happen on a group of ‘youths’.”

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Seen: 24th July 07
Rating: CF-1
“Most of the time I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was watching a school production.”

Wedding Daze
Seen: 27th June 07
Rating: CF-2
“Crikey I have been seeing a lot of shite recently, haven’t I?”

The Turkey of the year

Nothing quite so offensive as Pirates this year, so the Turkey mantle has to fall on a bunch of thirteen smug celebrities instead.

Ocean’s Thirteen
Seen: 21st June 07
Rating: CF-3
“It’s not as bad as Twelve.”
“The equivalent of an episode of popular BBC show The Hustle.”
“Um… Rohypnol isn’t funny…”
“Frustrating, pointless, and, like the Bavarian mountain I recently visited, Wank.”

End on a High

As I don’t want to enter 2008 with the bad taste of 2007 Turkey in my mouth, let’s quickly reflect on something better. The year did offer up some belters, especially in the form of big, silly fun with lots of SHOUTING and thighs (300), robots and cheese (Transformers) and lorries beating jets (Die Hard 4.0).

It was also a year of surprises, where sequels with lazy names actually turned out to be great (28 Weeks Later) and Mel Gibson made a film that was a bloody good romp and only insulted a small group of people who looked too deeply (Apocalypto).

Top that off with some lengthy dramas that floated my boat (Assassination of Jesse James, Bobby) and a sweet little rom-com that didn’t piss me off (Two Days in Paris) and you’ve got a selection of films that aren’t half bad. There was a noticeable absence of any CF5 rated films, however, and this is a great shame. Can 2008 offer up something better? Let’s go and see…

28th Dec 07 - Enchanted

2007-12-29T15:23:00.000Z

It’s Christmas, the season of eating more food than necessary, doing sod all, and watching guilty pleasures at the cinema. And so, with nary a glimmer of self consciousness, I strode into a toddler-filled cinema with my adult friends to watch a Disney film. It’s what all the cool kids do. I’m almost positive.

Enchanted is just what a post-Christmas afternoon needs. Easy on the eye, simple to understand, quietly charming and occasionally amusing. An experience akin to playing Junior Pictionary with Orlando Bloom. Listen with a fraction of a brain cell as he explains the rules in a big, clear voice. Gaze at his curly hair flopping over his simple face. Chuckle as he accidentally eats one of the crayons. It’s what Christmas is all about.

Anyway, Enchanted sees the story of Giselle, a typical Disney princess who lives in a wood, is friends with animals, likes to sing and falls in love with a big bland prince. But the prince’s evil stepmother chucks Giselle into a magic well (bear with me..) and sees her emerge into “a world without a happily ever after”. That’d be our world, then. Poor Giselle is transformed into a real person and plonked into New York (oh look, New York as the setting for a film! Wow, what a pleasant change) where people don’t really like each other, don’t break into song and certainly don’t believe in happy endings or true love. A bit bleak for the tots, but it’s good to expose them to the reality of life. That’s Robert’s philosophy too, as a divorce lawyer who’s also a single parent. He ends up taking Giselle in until her “prince” will come to save her, and your typical fish-out-of-water hilarity ensues.

Rather than poke blatant fun at Disney clichés ala Shrek, this film embraces them and gives them a little twist. So Giselle’s wildlife friends are distinctly more urban in her new world, and when a musical number breaks out, Robert questions how it’s possible that everyone can know the words to the song. But there are no big winks to the adults - this is a predominantly child-friendly film, and much more rooted in the genre than the more grown-up flavours of Ratatouille, or the dummed-down science of last week’s aggravating Golden Compass. The animated segments are cheapo bargain-bin quality and lack real humour so prove a little tough to sit through, but it’s the performance of Amy Adams’ Giselle that’ll win you over in the real world. Wide-eyed, wide-smiled, with a child-like innocence and yet conflicting emotional core, it’s easy to see how the lovely Patrick Dempsey’s Robert could fall for her. James Marsden also strikes gold, swapping his yawn-fest performance as Cyclops for the hammiest prince in the land.

There’s some refreshing thoughts dealt with in what is essentially a child’s rom-com. Robert says you can’t fall in love straight away, but he falls for Giselle - true love does exist afterall! Hurray! But, Giselle had originally fallen for her prince. Can she just write that off and say this new love is now the real-deal? What happens with the next dashing man she meets? I think Robert needs to seriously sit down and consider the ramifications of his relationship, not to mention the hurt it will have caused his weird-jawed girlfriend of five years. Did those five years mean nothing to him? Can he just flush them all away for a mentally-challenged homeless person who wandered into his house?

Ok, maybe I’m looking too deeply into this, and I may have just trampled over the entire sentiment of the film. But hey - it still made me smile, I had one of the songs stuck in my head for a day and any film showing Patrick Dempsey in a half-open bath robe is a winner in my book. Sweet, silly and uplifting (if you don’t dissect it to pieces) there’s no doubt this is a pure kiddy film through and through. But if you’re after an Orlando-Pictionary moment, and don’t have access to either, then this is a great alternative for a lazy afternoon. Enchanted notches up a CF0, but imagine the rating all pink and fluffy and tasting like sugar. Seriously.

19th December 2007 - The Golden Compass

2007-12-20T17:15:00.000Z

Back in July I watched the stagnant interlude that was Harry Potter number who-cares, and said as far as children’s book adaptations go, I was much more interested in “a little girl called Lyra and her big fuck-off armoured bear”. Well here comes said girl and bear, in the adaptation of the first book in Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, a trio of deliciously dark novels with an abundance of imagination and a fantastic way of sticking a middle finger up to all ruling religions.

Naturally I was quite excited to see Pullman’s work on the big screen, but as the release date approached and stories emerged of a “toned down” content and “made for kids” vibe I started to get wary. Though dubbed a child’s book, The Amber Spyglass (changed to “The Golden Compass” for film as thickos wouldn’t know what a spyglass was) deals with complex ideas, violence and some nasty occurrences - a staple of any good story in my eyes. Unfortunately, some idiot made the decision to aim this film squarely at the tots, following in Narnia’s footsteps and ignoring the vastly superb example set by Jackson’s Lord of the Rings.

So we’re left with “theology on Sesame Street”, with every subtle symbol explained VERY SIMPLY, with ickle words and puppets (ok, not the last part). I half expected them to announce “this scene is brought to you by the letter ‘D’, the number six, and a thinly veiled attack on the Catholic church." Granted, the film doesn’t have the luxury of a few hundred pages to gradually introduce themes and encourage interpretation, but it doesn’t half feel lazy to explain every little thing via voiceover, diagram or handy character monologue. The kids wouldn’t get what it was about if it didn’t explain everything. But, let’s be honest. Who cares? I’m an adult, make this film for me, and if the kids don’t get it - fuck ‘em. They won’t remember tomorrow anyway, with their little under-developed brains.

I’m veering toward a Simpsons-style review again, so let’s get back to the film. Dumbed-down aside, the majority of this film is pretty good. The effects are superb, especially on the demons (they are the SOULS of PEOPLE as this is an ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE) and big ol’ Iroek, the armoured bear, is pretty ace. Newcomer Dakota Blue Richards does a stirling job as Lyra, capturing her defiance and confidence without being a brat. Nicole Kidman is fantastic as creepy lady Mrs Coulter, playing the role almost pantomime style, but stealing the scenes she’s in, even when her creepy little monkey is on her shoulder. And Daniel Craig is as brief as his character in the book, but a welcome addition to any screen as far as I’m concerned.

But the film’s biggest flaw is in trying to achieve a coherent story from a complicated book in less than two hours. Jackson made films that last for bloody days, but he gets the story in, paces it, and we can all handle it fine. Director and screenwriter Chris Weitz slices out any real character interaction, leaving a trail of events that probably don’t make any sense to a non-reader. Up to the end I was enjoying the film in an average sort of way, but then they did something utterly ridiculous. Those who’ve already read the book will know the ending is dark, pretty shocking, and sets things up for the second book nicely. That ending doesn’t happen in this film. Skip a few pages back and stop right there. Just before the real darkness begins. Just as things are all happy-happy. Just as not very much has been concluded yet. It’s a pathetic ending to the film, a wimpish “ooo don’t upset the kiddies” cop-op, and I was nearly as outraged as I was at the end of Pirates Two - and that’s saying something.

Golden Compass would’ve got a CF1 for doing a reasonably good job of bringing a brilliant book on screen. But by pandering to children and ignoring the book’s stronger points, it drops down a point, just clinging to a CF0. Read the book. Watch the film. Be disappointed. I hope you’re happy, children. I hope you’re bloody happy.