Review: Ghostbusters (2016)

Posted on July 17, 2016 by Sam S-P
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Ghostbusters (2016): Columbia Pictures/Feigco Entertainment/Ghostcorps

I think I might have mentioned this before, but I’ve never really been that into GHOSTBUSTERS. Paul Feig’s new take has nods to the original and cameos, but otherwise strikes out on its own and largely it’s a successful venture.

When strange apparitions begin to appear across New York City, three academics with a penchant for the paranormal (Kristen Wiig, Melissa McCarthy and Kate McKinnon) and a street-smart subway worker (Leslie Jones) team up as the Ghostbusters to save their city.

Feig’s film makes Ghostbusters scarier than it ever has been. The ghost designs are eclectic, impressively realised, and the horror elements push the boundary of what you can do in a 12A/PG13 movie, notably the genuinely spooky opening of the film. It’s not just because of the modern CGI that this film looks better either – the cinematography is more polished, space is better utilised in the frame and the action scenes are far more inventive and dynamic.

Next to the new Spider-Man, Holtzmann may very well be my favourite film character of 2016. McKinnon eclipses everyone else as the borderline-psychotic engineer with a tendency to dance while operating dual blowtorches, providing the team with a full proton arsenal. Jones is great as well, taking Patty far beyond a stereotype (though still, annoyingly, the non-scientist in the group is again the black person). Wiig and McCarthy have their moments as Erin and Abby but end up essentially having to share the Aykroyd-esque straight-man role. Chris Hemsworth, as we know from his Marvel movies, has really good comic timing, and he relishes playing perhaps the thickest support character in film history, Kevin the secretary.

There are some great zingers – after a ghost is hit and carried off by a train, Patty quips “Well he’s on his way to Queens…and he’s only the second scariest guy heading there tonight!” and the throwaway gag of a tour guide (Zach Woods) describing an “anti-Irish” security fence that used to surround a haunted mansion. I won’t say every setup or punchline lands, but you can’t go far wrong when Kate McKinnon can make just standing there or sitting down with her feet up funny.

What really works in the film is that this team feel a lot more like outcasts. Aside from being women in what is essentially still a boys club (Steve Higgins’ Dean is very surprised to find out their department still exists) they are exploited by the authorities (happy to accept their ghost-busting, less willing to publicly acknowledge them) and their personalities tend to set them apart from the mainstream (Erin and Abby weren’t invited to parties, Patty attracts subway weirdos and nobody really knows what to make of Holtzmann). They also finally establish a motivation for why rational scientists would believe in the paranormal, and this results in Wiig’s finest, most heart-wrenching moment.

Aside from a couple of setup scenes that outstay their welcome, an awful Fall Out Boy cover of Ray Parker Jr’s theme (other musical nods to the original are pretty clever) and a very first-draft villain (Neil Casey, more interesting when he possesses someone else), I have few complaints. There are few things that I’ll wax lyrical about either apart from the beautiful production design, but as I opened with, I’m not a Ghostbusters guy. It is irritating that after a perfectly serviceable finale where the team use their full array of proton gadgets to fight an army of ghosts in an ingeniously choreographed street battle, we have to sit through a second finale which is essentially the finale of the 1984 film re-skinned, but hey, Hollywood likes doing that.

So, the elephant in the room – does it matter that Ghostbusters has been rebooted with an all-female cast? Not in the slightest. The gender of the Ghostbusters has no impact on their ability, their motivations or the story. Even if you’re clinging to the characters, the new carriers of the proton packs fit pretty comfortably into the same archetypes. Anyone who was clamoring to finally see a proper third film with the original cast, I have to ask what would the story be? Older past-it Ghostbusters forced back into the job and the hearts of New Yorkers when a new supernatural threat emerges? That’s the plot of Ghostbusters II. If I’m honest the cameos by the orignal cast here don’t all work. Dan Aykroyd, Ernie Hudson, Sigourney Weaver and Annie Potts all have fleeting, amusing appearances, but Bill Murray is given an extended scene where he looks like he’d prefer to be anywhere else. Coming back many years later to tell the same-but-different story has a really patchy history. For every FORCE AWAKENS you’ve got a KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL.

The Ghostcorps thing – complete with prominent and shiny logo placed before the film’s opening – is both concerning and depressing. Sony, in their wisdom, have decided that Ghostbusters deserves the “Shared Universe” treatment of many connected films (much like they mistakenly thought with SPIDER-MAN) that Marvel have exploited so well, so have created a whole sub-studio to handle this. This is the most worrying thing, not that anyone dared to remake Ghostbusters or that they’re women now. The film does its job, providing a fresh take on a familiar story that delivers laughs and thrills more often than not. It’s the studio that might be heading for disaster. SSP

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Film Confessional: Ghostbusters

Posted on July 14, 2016 by Sam S-P
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Ghostbusters (1984): Black Rhino Productions/Columbia Pictures Corporation/Delphi Films

Just in time for the remake to hit the screen, I have a confession to make…I can take or leave the original GHOSTBUSTERS. I can understand people liking it – the characters are good, it’s pretty funny – but loving it? I’ve just never got what all the fuss is about, and I don’t think I ever will.

In case somehow it’s bypassed you, Ghostbusters follows three colourful academics (Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis) and a guy who answers an ad in the paper (Ernie Hudson) as they fight to save New York from a paranormal threat.

Murray does his thing and does it well. You can see he had a lot of fun riffing with nary a glance at Aykroyd and Ramis’ script (Ramis steals most other scenes himself). But let’s not kid ourselves – at one point Peter Venkman is accused of being a creep, and he is, he really is. Imagine how it would go down today if a character we are supposed to root for turned out to be a borderline sexual predator, and that this was just meant to be taken as a bit of a laugh? At least Sigourney Weaver puts up a fight and doesn’t easily succumb to his slimy charms.

The film is now 32 years old, and it looks it. The striking special effects combining early CGI, puppets and traditional animation might start to look shonky today, but this isn’t necessarily a negative, in fact it’s part of the film’s charm that they still look so distinctive. I am convinced that the film never looked good on a craft level, though. Ivan Reitman is a good comedy director and he always makes room for his performers to add colour to scenes. He can’t cope with action though. Shots are framed clumsily throughout with the top halves of people’s bodies cut off or too much empty space when scenes move quicker than planned and the actual scenes depicting ghost busting are unimaginative. Also am I the only one bothered by the fact that the Ghostbusters’ final fight isn’t against something dead? They should rebrand as Godbusters. I also don’t like that they are able to break their one “It would be bad” rule without any discernible consequences.

The central premise and gag of following what happens when rational people (scientists) research the irrational (ghosts) is still the most interesting thing about the movie, but this conceit could have always been taken further. Aykroyd is a famous believer in the supernatural and I’m surprised he didn’t explore why the characters believe what they believe before their first encounter with an apparition in the library.

The film does come in at a tight 1hr 45 and there’s no messing around with the story – characters are established, the problem is introduced, the problem is solved. It’s one of those films that I might watch a few minutes of when it’s on just because it’s so undemanding, but seldom will I actively revisit it.

Was this a film that needed a remake? Not really. Am I offended by the existence of a remake? Not in the slightest. Let’s be honest, it’s not LAWRENCE OF ARABIA, it’s not BEN-HUR (that remake is coming soon). It’s Ghostbusters. It was fine in 1984, it’s still fine today and I have a sneaking suspicion that gathering some of the funniest people working today, just like they did three decades ago, will result in something fine again. Probably. It’ll certainly be an experience watching it with my friend who happens to be a Ghostbusters megafan. SSP

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Review: The Neon Demon (2016)

Posted on July 12, 2016 by Sam S-P
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Mirror metaphor: Space Rocket Nation/Vendian Entertainment/Bold Films

The fashion industry really is taking a kicking from film this year. Far from the silly and playful taunts in ZOOLANDER 2 and ABSOLUTELY FABULOUS, now Nicolas Winding Refn goes for the jugular with THE NEON DEMON. Being a Nicolas Winding Refn film, there’s a whole lot to unpack here. I’ll do my best and try not to get lost in all the bright lights and hedonism along the way.

16 year-old small-town dreamer Jesse (Elle Fanning) moves to LA to attract the attention of a modelling agency. She is a natural beauty and walks into high-profile jobs despite her inexperience, but is at risk of losing her soul to the cruel, base industry she loves, not to mention the immediate danger of jealous rivals and those who would exploit her.

I think all of Refn’s films are about confused identity, alienation and a failure to communicate to a large extent. Much like how Ryan Gosling’s almost-silent character in DRIVE could only express himself through violent action, the models in The Neon Demon can only live vicariously through others. It’s almost the exact negative of The Driver’s arc, who was fighting to become human, to grow beyond his function and his profession, whereas Fanning’s Jesse wants to become only an image, losing her humanity, her sense of reality, in the process.

Fanning is phenomenal here. She imbues Jesse with a wonderful nervous energy before allowing her to be consumed by pride and struggle to subdue her ecstasy at being born better than everyone else. The supporting players including Jena Malone, Bella Heathcote,  Abby Lee, Alessandro Nivola all play one of many shades of repulsive, but for once it’s a pretty even split between despicable men and the women, with neither gender demonised more than the other, just the industry they are part of. Christina Hendricks has a scene as an agency executive and is perhaps responsible for the only flicker of genuine kindness in the film by advising Jesse of what to expect (shortly before brutally dismissing another hopeful). In another small role Keanu Reeves gives his best peformance in years as a seedy and lurking owner of a motel frequented by junkies and prostitutes, perhaps suggesting that even close proximity to the vanity of the LA modelling world is corrosive.

The film (photographed by Natasha Braier) is long and indulgent in its pacing but there’s rarely not something interesting to look at. Refn doesn’t really do subtle (he even has his initials emblazoned over the opening credits seemingly as a stamp of quality) but the boldness of his imagery and the symbolism therein marries well with the industry he is discussing. A mountain lion gets into Jesse’s motel room just before she commits to being a full-time model. A photographer (Desmond Harrington) walks Jesse into the empty, emotionless white void of his studio backdrop. There are more mirrors and people staring into them trying to comprehend their image than at a funfair hall. A key and increasingly trippy scene has Jesse waiting to take to the stage and the bright neon geometric shapes adorning the walls change from innocent blue to sinful scarlet just as she crosses over and relinquishes her empathy, her own image utterly consuming her.

The film constantly subverts your expectations of where the threat will come from. Jesse fears the creepy overseer of her apartment block, she’s wary of pretty much every man she meets until they help her satisfy her own ends, but she never even considers that her ambition might be severely damaging, or that her fellow models are out to destroy her.

Refn and kindred spirit composer Cliff Martinez are masters of combining a strong aesthetic with a sumptuous soundscape to tell a story. While Refn as a filmmaker still hadn’t topped Drive, I think this might be Martinez’s finest work to date. Much like the story being told his electronic music is equally beautiful and ugly, atmospheric and oppressive, climbing, falling, disintegrating and transforming just as the characters do.

A lot has been said about a scene about two thirds of the way through the film. From this disturbing image onwards, everything becomes quite bizarre and deeply unsettling. Here it graduates from psych-horror to full-blown horror. I don’t think this final stretch quite worked, I’m not sure what everything meant, what exactly is supposed to take place or whether Refn wanted us to know, but suffice to say it becomes the stuff of nightmares.

It’s very appropriate that Refn apparently got Fanning to watch BEYOND THE VALLEY OF THE DOLLS in preparation for this film, as they share a lot of DNA in their story arcs and general structures. The Neon Demon is arguably far deeper and looks much better, but Russ Meyer and Roger Ebert’s guilty pleasure also acted as an expose of a self-obsessed profession, and the two films would make an interesting double-bill.

I can’t say that this will be one for everyone. The Neon Demon completely split its audience at Cannes, much like Refn’s previous difficult watch, ONLY GOD FORGIVES. The rather twisted Danish-LA explorer of the id has said he was rather happy with this reception, that it was what he is going for – to provoke debate. He’ll have certainly done that here, and the fashion world aren’t going to forgive him for attempted murder of their industry any time soon. SSP

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Review: Grimsby (2016)

Posted on July 10, 2016 by Sam S-P
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Grimsby (2016): Big Talk Productions/Columbia Pictures/Working Title

I never thought I’d say this, but thank God for the already-infamous elephant scene. More on that later. The only reason that GRIMSBY isn’t a worse 2016 comedy than Adam Sandler’s THE DO-OVER is that I laughed a couple of times while watching it.

25 years ago, Nobby Butcher (Sacha Baron Cohen) lost his brother. Now, with a diabolical plot to foil, his secret agent baby brother Sebastian (Mark Strong) resurfaces and reluctantly takes Nobby for the ride of his life. Working together, will the Butcher Brothers be able to combine their…um…skills and save the world, England and Grimsby, and perhaps get to watch the footie along the way?

I’d like to be clear here: I like Sacha Baron Cohen. He’s a funny guy. That is, when he cares. BORAT and BRÜNO both allowed him years to develop, transform into, and live as, a single character. Even THE DICTATOR had a pleasing satirical edge for all its shortcuts. But aside from a couple of sights I will never forget in the South Africa segment and Nobby’s time-bubble names for his many children (Skelator is the eldest, Django Unchained the youngest) this ends up being Cohen’s weakest work by far.

Mark Strong is being an awful good sport about all of this. He makes a good Bond-alike and I really hope he got something out of the bottom-shelf humiliation Cohen put him through. Rebel Wilson turns up for a fat joke and a BASIC INSTINCT reference, then disappears entirely until the end. Daniel Radcliffe apparently said no to making a cameo where he ingests HIV-positive blood, so they rely on an unconvincing lookalike. They don’t even bother doing that with Donald Trump, simply superimposing his head on someone in a crowd (see if you can spot the studio sweating about this during the end credits). The cream of British TV comedy turn up for a single shot (Rebecca Front) or if they’re (un)lucky, a couple of lines (Ricky Tomlinson still in his ROYLE FAMILY costume) and everyone involved really should be looking for new agents.

At least the elephant scene – beyond tasteless, so extreme and excessive – is funny. I can’t deny it that. The sheer onslaught of what you witness, which I shall not describe here, forces a reaction from you and that reaction for me was an uncontrollable fit of giggles. It was about time I found a release because I found it incredibly difficult to laugh elsewhere.

The idea that the English football team would reach the final of anything should be a joke in itself, but bizarrely here it’s played straight. The only thing we’re supposed to laugh at about Nobby’s chest tattoo proclaiming “England! World Champions! 200016!” is Nobby being 198,000 years out on the date.

Grimsby is mean-spirited, low-hanging fruit comedy. It tries to proclaim a working-class, anti-establishment hurrah in its final moments despite clinging to cruel stereotypes throughout and giving us nobody to root for. It wouldn’t have been any better without the over-the-top spy antics. Louis Leterrier’s interest clearly lies in the film’s glossy POV action sequences, and these are fine, but the film sags when it returns to what should be the meat of the story, namely the love between brothers. The flashbacks with Nobby and Sebastian are played completely straight, almost kitchen sink drama-esque, and they just don’t work. If they were more maudlin they’d almost be funny for trying too hard, but as they are they’re just dull.

Grimsby isn’t even worth getting angry about. Aside for the considerable work by the production design team in creating the film’s central revolting set-piece, no thought whatsoever was put into the meanness or the bad taste here, it was just easy. So rather than froth at the mouth at Sacha Baron Cohen’s nerve, you should pity him. You should pity Mark Strong and the supporting cast who said yes to being in this film. You should certainly pity the people of the town of Grimsby, who as well as being the butt of most of the jokes didn’t even get the film crew visiting as compensation – it was all made in Essex. SSP

 

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Review: 13 Hours (2016)

Posted on July 7, 2016 by Sam S-P
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13 Hours (2016): 3 Arts Entertainment

13 HOURS is supposedly Michael Bay being serious, talking about a still-raw real-world event, namely the aftermath of The Arab Spring uprisings in Libya. Yet we still have a character saying of a neutralised weapons smuggler:”We gotta find his stash and level it with hellfire!” and a paramilitary asset announcing his arrival with: “I need a bagful of money and a flight to Benghazi”. You can’t have it both ways, Michael.

Following revolution and the fall of Colonel Gaddafi, Libya, and especially the populous city of Benghazi, became one of the most dangerous locations in the world to find yourself trapped. On September 11 2012 a team of CIA agents acting as bodyguards for a diplomatic envoy found their compound besieged by Islamist militants. This is their story. 

Bay still likes having his camera fawn over people. In TRANSFORMERS it famously focussed on Megan Fox bending over a car. Here, with a lack of scantily clad women (predictably for Bay, he has cast the most beautiful diplomatic office in history, but they are thankfully all dressed appropriately) he instead oggles his manly men working out, leering over rippling six-packs and shiny biceps.

It’s nice to see a change of pace from Michael Bay in the film’s first 45 minutes or so where we just follow the operatives chatting about life and their families and joshing frat-style with each other. Bay just holds back and lets this real situation wash over us. It is here, and towards the end when the chaos dies down that Jack (John Krasinki) and his brother Rone (James Badge Dale) are given room to emote and bring out what nuance there is in Chuck Hogan’s script. Then everything kicks off, Bay chucks his tripod aside, rubble flies and Lorne Balfe’s soundtrack begins to blare constantly.

That shot prominently featured in the trailer of Islamist militants machine-gunning a mournfully billowing American flag in slow motion is in there, essentially signalling the start of the action, and it’s as terrible and misjudged an idea in the film as in the marketing. It’s fine that Bay is a patriot, what’s less fine is him bellowing jingoistically to drown out a far from one-sided debate.

The battles can be confusing, but I actually think this was intentional. So many groups are running around shooting at each other and it’s rarely clear who is who and what they are fighting for. The line between friend and foe remains indistinct throughout and we are left in doubt even about the Libyan friendlies by the end. This all sums up the convoluted motivations driving the Arab Spring nicely for Hollywood storytelling purposes. The Americans have one group fighting with them, several other groups fighting against them and one guy fighting with them turns out to have one of their adversaries’ mobile phone numbers.

I must admit that I was drifting during the second half of the film. The gunfire and explosions quickly become monotonous and the linking scenes where tactics are planned are pretty tedious. A moment where Jack realises to his equal horror and bemusement, that he hasn’t thought about his family throughout their desperate operation is the only reminder of the humanity of this story. Even this reminder of people feeling people things is only from an American perspective. Though the story one-sided, I guess it’s the only way it could be presented with the characters we are focussing on – soldiers dying “In a place they don’t need to be over something they don’t understand”. It’s almost an anti-war stance from the usually gung ho Bay. Almost.

At the end of it all we are left to count the cost. Bay gives the Libyan dead a cursory mention then dedicates nearly ten minutes to mourn the American heroes. A tattered American flag lies in a muddied pool. When Michael Bay isn’t bludgeoning you over the head with Stars and Stripes and allows the talent of Krasinski and Dale to come to the fore, this is pretty good stuff. But when he falls back on his worst habits he undermines the story he is telling and so 13 Hours ends up being purely competent rather than anything that will stay with you, at least not for the right reasons. SSP

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Review: Independence Day: Resurgence (2016)

Posted on July 4, 2016 by Sam S-P
Jeff-Goldblum-and-Liam-Hemsworth-in-Independence-Day-Resurgence

Independence Day: Resurgence (2016): Centropolis Entertainment/TSG Entertainment

I wanted Roland Emmerich to bring his unique brand of big, dumb action back to the big screen in 2016. By golly does he deliver it with INDEPENDENCE DAY: RESURGENCE. He also brings painful scripting (courtesy of four writers, no less), leaden exposition and crippling miscalculations of tone. Let’s take a closer look at what might end up being one of the year’s biggest, funnest flops.

Twenty years after aliens made their presence known and humanity (just) managed to drive back an invasion, the would-be-conquerers from beyond the stars have returned. Only scientist David Levinson (Jeff Goldblum), former President Thomas Whitmore (Bill Pullman) and a group of talented pilots who were all profoundly and tragically affected by the War of 96 can save their planet again.

The film’s considerable budget is certainly up on screen. Emmerich still loves his painterly action compositions, and there is memorable imagery throughout. The Moon’s surface being sucked into a wormhole; a tidal wave carrying buildings, boats and landmarks past the camera; more landmarks raining down on London’s own landmarks (“They like to get the landmarks”); the shadow of a flying saucer eclipsing a tiny yellow school bus fleeing across salt flats. It’s bold, colourful and creative stuff in extreme contrast with the grey-brown films of Michael Bay and Zack Snyder.

Jeff Goldblum returns as David Levinson, still balancing the awkward confidence of being the smartest guy in the room with borderline despair at mankind’s inevitable doom. He also makes a great noise when he’s scared. Bill Pullman plays a broken, mentally scarred former President Whitmore and Brent Spiner steals the show as the surprisingly-not-dead and still completely batty Dr Okun (the screentime split between these three oldies may surprise you). Liam Hemsworth does his best to bring the snarky charm in the replacement Will Smith role, but sadly Jesse T Usher, who actually plays Hiller’s son, does not seem to possess a teaspoonful of charisma. Maika Monroe makes no impact as the grown up president’s daughter (not entirely her fault, there’s nothing to the character) and Judd Hirsch, though entertaining once again as David’s dad Julius, is asked to be funny at entirely inappropriate moments.

We spend an irritating amount of time being regaled with what has happened in the preceding 20 years. There are frequent reminders of what each character’s primary (alright, let’s not kid ourselves – singular) motivation or special skill is – just in case this happens to come up later. The writers, chiefly Dean Devlin, have the gall to tease us with a far more interesting plot prospect of a ten-year land war between a crashed alien battalion and African mercenaries, but we never get to see it. A late-stage plot turn (following the grin-inducing dunderheaded sight of Dr Okun trying to crack open a mysterious alien object with a powerful laser) promises to turn the film into something else entirely, liberally borrowing visuals and ideas from other sources. Sadly shortly after this we revert to pretty much the same final act as the first film but with a special effects upgrade.

Potential for some interesting ideas is pretty much squandered, with humanity’s adoption of alien tech seemingly resulting in little more than hover trams, bigger guns and fighter jets that can fly in space. The world seems more harmonious since their first tussle with ET, but we get no sense of how large lives of civilians might have changed over two decades. There’s a nice moment with a kid telling Julius his family doesn’t think David ever went to space, that it was all a conspiracy. It goes to show that even after witnessing spaceships the size of countries in their skies, humanity remains a cynical beast.

Relationships get a short shrift as well – David has a new beau in fellow brainbox Catherine (Charlotte Gainsbourg) but no real indication of their history, Jake (Hemsworth) and Patricia (Monroe) share hardly any scenes together. Elsewhere, the much-publicised censoring of Dr Okun’s gay relationship – perhaps to help the film’s release in China – is nothing short of tragic, especially for such a proud champion of LGBT rights as Emmerich. It’s this lack of empathy, of humanity that ultimately makes Independence Day: Resurgence crash. No-one is denying Roland Emmerich remains an artisan of the apocalypse, a craftsman of chaos. Fatally, without the beating heart that was present and correct in the original INDEPENDENCE DAY, the sequel’s many thrills will remain empty ones. SSP

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Review: The Lobster (2015)

Posted on July 3, 2016 by Sam S-P
lobster

The Lobster (2015): Element Pictures/Scarlet Films/Farliro House Productions

Well file this one comfortably (or uncomfortably) under “flawed but fascinating”. THE LOBSTER is a symphony to loneliness, an essay to alienation. It constructs a bizarre and jarring world inhabited by the miserable and the hollow, then asks you to reside in it for a spell. Good luck…

In a society where being single has been deemed illegal, David (Colin Farrell) finds himself without a mate. He is sent to a luxury hotel full of likewise lost souls and given a choice: find a suitable companion within 45 days or be turned into an animal and released into the woods. The one silver lining is that he gets to choose what he will become.

The conceit is simple one: being single in this world is seen as an illness, as dangerous for society as a whole so you have to find a partner through formula to save yourself from forced transformation into an animal. Everyone plays it monotone and awkward (an interesting choice, but arguably an excuse for wooden performances as well); personalities are defined almost exclusively by people’s distinctive physical traits or interests and everything about this reality is a little wrong. This wrongness makes it difficult for us to like, or even be all that interested in anybody, but also allows for some clever gags. You’ll find humour here that exists nowhere else, like how the evil hotel staff use guests’ libidos against them to force them to find a suitable partner out of desperation (David’s response to a cruel and unusual daily torment “That’s just…awful”); Olivia Colman’s Hotel Manager stating that any couples who begin to argue on a regular basis “will be assigned children”.

The tone of the thing is admittedly weird. Some of the stylistic refrains – particularly a regularly repeated musical motif and the completely unnecessary narration – irritate greatly after a while. We see David feel something, then the narration reiterates what he feels then we get a burst of that grating music. The emotionless commentary on events are tied to the way a particular character is written, but in practice it doesn’t work. It’s at these points you want writer-director Yorgos Lanthimos to stop faffing and just get on with it.

It’s great to see Colin Farrell in an interesting lead role again, and he plays vulnerability with humour like nobody else can. Rachel Weisz does what she can with her limited character and the final act of the film achieves poignancy mostly through her, but the supporting players in the film’s first half, chiefly Colman, Ben Whishaw and Michael Smiley, eclipse her without really having to try.

The film certainly loses something when it leaves the confines of the hotel. I think this kind of oddball story only really works within the limitations of that kind of space. The final stretch consists of a lot of moping around the deserted woods (where you wouldn’t be surprised if they bumped into the cast of THE SURVIVALIST) or moping around deserted cities. A plotline involving otherthrowing the establishment goes nowhere so you wonder why it was included at all. I guess there had to be something else in addition to the relationship drama if so much effort is being put into you not being able to feel for these couples.

The Lobster is a film I can appreciate from afar rather than really enjoy. So much distance is intentionally kept between characters and their emotions, in addition to distance between the viewer and the characters, that it becomes quite hard to care. It evokes a feeling of otherness throughout really well, but ultimately glimmers of brilliance and twisted humour are eclipsed by an exhausting premise and unnecessarily brash styling. SSP

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Review: Dad’s Army (2016)

Posted on June 26, 2016 by Sam S-P

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Dad’s Army (2016): DJ Films

Just in case you’re reading this in a country the BBC doesn’t directly beam its content to, DAD’S ARMY was a British sitcom that broadcast from the late 1960s to the late 1970s that followed an incompetent platoon of WWII Home Guardsmen. It was cosy, gentle and witty, with beloved characters brought to life by some of the finest talent on TV at the time. Now, almost 50 years since it first graced our screen, the big screen remake has landed with a dull thud.

In sleepy seaside town Walmington-on-Sea, the only hope to stop a Nazi spy from smuggling secrets of the British war effort back to Germany lies with a small platoon of Local Defence Volunteers. Unfortunately this group of doddery old men and inexperienced boys are not the finest their country has to offer, and lead by Captain Mainwaring (Toby Jones) and Sergeant Wilson (Bill Nighy) they must try and not balls-up the whole thing.  

After a title sequence consisting of an awful CGI pigeon flying to “Ride of the Valkyries” we go straight in to a weirdly misjudged serious take on the sitcom’s “You have been watching…” (which we get a proper version of at the end anyway). After that it’s the bull scene you’ve probably already seen in the trailers, and the old boys slowly walking away from an equally slow (but we’re told, angry) bull is no funnier here.

The wives (Felicity Montagu and a completely wasted Sarah Lancashire and Alison Steadman) are great additions to the regular cast of characters, perhaps the one thing that was lacking in the original show – formidable women to keep their silly old men in check. The scene in the Mainwarings’ shelter during an air raid is made memorable by Mrs M’s determination to not lose out on sleep no matter what is flying overhead – she having erected a sizeable bunk bed in there for just such a night. As Elizabeth, Felicity Montagu steals every scene she’s in, fully living up to the fearsome reputation her character (unseen, but referred to frequently in the sitcom) has built up.

Sergeant Wilson’s oft-hinted at infidelity and misdemeanours are made far more explicit and Nighy has fun with his snide, borderline maverick take on the character originated by John Le Mesurier. The others fit the moulds you expect, but rarely shine. Tom Courtenay’s Lance-Corporal Jones only raises a smile when he confides his out-of-the-blue philosophical conundrum, “If none of us exist, who would I sell my sausages to?”. I’m not sure Toby Jones’ gentle buffoon really competes with Arthur Lowe’s stuck up blowhard Captain Mainwaring, but at least Jones isn’t trying to do an impression of his predecessor.

The number one sin on radio is said to be dead air. This film all-too-often is the visual and comic equivalent of that. You can almost hear the embarrassed coughing in the background when the jokes don’t land or a pratfall is slightly off. Mainwaring tripping over things and over his words and Jones’ sausage-based innuendo aren’t exactly the height of comic sophistication, but they could have worked if well-timed, or at least if they form only a part of the routine. But in Dad’s Army “whoops” and “I saw you give her your sausage” is your lot.

It’s nice to have an acknowledgement that incompetent platoons of the Home Guard would of course be found out eventually. They weren’t a joke in the war, just a backup force back in Blighty, a chance for those unable to join up because of their age or their health serve their country. Of course having the platoon in dire straits at the end of the second act is simply to add a little more jeopardy than you’d see on the small screen. I don’t know how you’d get the runtime without this fabrication, but it still feels forced.

Dad’s Army is not only underwhelming and unfunny, but a pretty pointless exercise. Fans of the sitcom won’t give it the time of day, and it’s too dull and comically misjudged to find a new audience. Bill Nighy and Felicity Montagu on fine form can’t save this misfire. I think I’ll just stick to watching the original show, still repeated every Saturday night on the BBC, whenever I visit my grandad. SSP

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20 Years On: Independence Day (1996)

Posted on June 23, 2016 by Sam S-P
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Independence Day (1996): Centropolis Entertainment/20th Century Fox

Roland Emmerich really does turn massive-scale destruction into an art form. Michael Bay can make things go boom then throw them at you while juggling the camera, but Emmerich really seems to relish his careful construction of sequences and giving his audience breathing room for the cost of disaster to register, even to find a little beauty in chaos. INDEPENDENCE DAY is still so loved after two decades not because of the spectacle, which is considerable, or the effects, which haven’t aged too badly, but because of the enduring cast characters the story is built around.

When a worldwide alien invasion forces mankind to reevaluate its position in the universe, only a group of talented and determined individuals – scientists, politicians, soldiers and ordinary people – can prevent the human race being wiped off the planet.

The alien invasion-meets-disaster epic plot is serviceable and economic, rarely wasting time on extraneous details but just getting us where we need to go. The script is solid enough, with some nice one-liners and winks to the audience about the way these sorts of movies usually go, plus a key death midway through is handled sensitively, honestly and with a rare intimacy for a blockbuster.

The scale of human peril only has its impact because the film takes time to build our unlikely group of survivors (sometimes too) conveniently brought together. For almost an hour, the aliens are moving into position and what isn’t guys in uniforms looking at screens and talking in code is really good character stuff. We see David’s (Jeff Goldblum) single-mindedness in the workplace; Steven’s (Will Smith) dreams of joining NASA crushed; Jasmine (Vivica A Fox) having to take her young son to the Go-Go club she dances at because she can’t afford a sitter; Julius (Judd Hirsch) gently mocking his son for his life-choices and rediscovering his faith; President Whitmore (Bill Pullman) worrying what his public perception has become; Russell (Randy Quaid) drowning trauma in a bottle at the expense of his family. Each character has more shades and nuance to them than the entire casts of other lesser big summer movies. They start out as broad archetypes, but as they work together for survival and share their experiences, they grow beyond their character boundaries as the destruction commences and they do what they have to. We love them all and we want to see them make it through OK.

It’s still got the feelgood factor, if you can withstand a little (OK, a lot of) cheese. What makes such granstanding and patriotism towards Independence Day’s finale so palatable rather than disturbing is the aforementioned characters and our affection for them, and the earnestness with which the whole affair is played. I do find it amusing that Emmerich, a liberal European, is so good at making destruction porn, though always with a heart. I wish he’d have cut out those “English” soldiers who sound like they’re from a black-and-white film in the buildup to the final battle. We know it’s an American perspective, just tell us what the other countries are doing rather than embarrassing  yourself by portraying them.

Even the mostly miniature-based special effects haven’t aged too disgracefully. I’m of the belief that 90s blockbusters tend to stand the test of time a little better than others as it was the decade of combining cutting-edge practical effects with new developments in computer animation, and combinations of techniques tend to fool your eye better (just look at JURASSIC PARK and PAN’S LABYRINTH for evidence of this). The miniatures blowing up still look fine, as do the guys in rubber suits and animatronics playing aliens; it’s the CG-heavy spaceship vs fighter jets scenes that have started to look hokey.

I’ve actually got high hopes for INDEPENDENCE DAY: RESURGENCE. Lightning might not quite strike twice, but I very much doubt Roland will let us down. He’ll have kept us waiting for something spectacular, and hopefully with a healthy serving of heart as well. That is, unless he’s managed to replicate the same toxic sludge that produced 10,000 BC. SSP

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Review: The Nice Guys (2016)

Posted on June 20, 2016 by Sam S-P
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The Nice Guys (2016): Silver Pictures/Waypoint Entertainment/RatPac-Dune Entertainment

Watch THE NICE GUYS for a wonderfully shambolic Ryan Gosling teaming up with Russell Crowe playing a tank in a leather jacket. Remember it for Shane Black’s unique and sharply self-aware take on film noir. Black has been Hollywood’s go-to writer of dark buddy comedies for nigh-on 30 years now, but has always felt like a bit of an outsider. The Nice Guys may only his third film as director, but it further cements Black’s signature style and voice.

Los Angeles 1977. When a porn star dies in mysterious circumstances, two private eyes grudgingly team up to get to solve the mystery. Drunken and haunted single dad Holland March (Ryan Gosling) and bitter bruiser Jackson Healy (Russell Crowe) soon realise how out of depth they are as multiple seemingly unrelated investigations blend together and shady characters armed to the teeth come after them.

Shane Black still does mismatched pairings forever torn between saving the day and biting each other’s heads off like nobody else. His screenplay is full of hilarious Black-isms: Healy’s bitter aside on marriage “just buying a house for someone you hate”, March’s repeated correction of his daughter’s conversational tic “Don’t say n stuff. Just say, Dad there are whores  here” along with copious creative swearing.

The Nice Guys is the best example yet of Gosling’s talent for comedy. We know he can do deadly serious (HALF NELSON) and silent physicality (DRIVE) but he’s funny as hell as well. As March he shrieks and stumbles and panics constantly, thoroughly justifying his daughter referring to him as “the world’s worst detective”; his gift for slapstick best exemplified by the already-infamous toilet stall scene (does it get less funny if you’ve seen it about ten times? Nope). I don’t think Crowe had to work particularly hard at becoming a past his prime tough nut, but Healy makes for a good (slightly) more competent contrast to the unapologetic mess of a man that is Holland March. Both are acted off the screen, and their characters repeatedly humiliated by, the intelligence and natural-born detective instincts of Holland’s daughter Holly (Angourie Rice) who tags along for a lot of the fun.

There’s a nice little cameo for IRON MAN 3’s Ty Simpkins in the opening scene that immediately sets the seedy tone Black was going for with the film. There’s a much much stranger cameo from a key 70s figure at an important moment later on too that I won’t ruin here. Elsewhere Keith David plays a well-dressed thug and Kim Basinger’s Senator character could really have done with more screentime to develop her motivations beyond by-the-numbers.

Plot-wise I missed the intricacy of Black’s KISS KISS BANG BANG. He’s not lacking for character chemistry and chucklesome memorable moments, but the plot is pretty basic fare. It’s perfectly serviceable as a story and gets you from A to B, but though built up to be a twisty-turny gumshoe investigation, Black seems to lose interest and prefer to chuck muddled shootouts and falling off high buildings at us rather than any real intrigue. The final act certainly loses something when it is revealed how linear the mystery was and you wonder whether March and Healy going through all that was worth it.

What I also missed is some real darkness. It really puts the comic emphaisis on black comedy, and I’d have preferred it the other way round. It’s seedy, there’s dodgy and immoral stuff going on, but when you compare what Match and Healy go through here compared to their equivalents in other noirish fare like CHINATOWN, THE LONG GOODBYE or GET CARTER it’s sorely missing an exploration of the blackest depths of the human soul. At the base level, one of our heroes is an alcoholic, the other is violent and they get chased by guys with guns. It’s a glossy telling of this story, but you clamour for some added depth.

The Nice Guys has moments that feel pleasingly anarchic, and is fizzy and funny throughout. This isn’t up there with the best of Black’s back catalogue, feeling a little blunted and overblown towards the end and really missing a few good shocks and darker turns. It still ends up being one of the more entertaining star-lead vehicles released this year though, and makes you appreciate that Hollywood is lucky to be making films with a talent like Shane Black, even when he’s not quite on top form. SSP

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