Review: Ant-Man (2015)

Posted on July 19, 2015 by Sam S-P

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I’d have never guessed that the Marvel movie of 2015 I preferred was the apparent gamble that is ANT-MAN rather than the seemingly sure thing that was AVENGERS: AGE OF ULTRON. It just goes to show how bang-on Yoda was in THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK with his disgruntled query “Judge me by my size, do you?”

Convicted cat burglar Scott Lang (Paul Rudd) struggles to gain work after his latest spell in prison, and finds himself increasingly shut out of the life of his young daughter Cassie (Abby Ryder Fortson) until he proves he has truly changed his ways. His chance comes from an unexpected source – shutaway genius Hank Pym (Michael Douglas) – who asks Scott to help him pull off a dangerous heist for the betterment of humanity, a heist that requires Scott to use a very unusual suit…

There’s a good number of critics out there (and probably a fair few audience members as well) who are developing a certain lethargy for filmed comic book adaptations. I guess it’s understandable, as superhero movies have been the dominant summer blockbuster genre for around fifteen years now. This is by no means a modern phenomenon in the Movie Business. Westerns were all-consuming in the 50s, disaster movies in the 70s, horror in the 80s – Hollywood has always moved in trends. If we are to see a superhero movie monopoly for the rest of this decade and beyond, each example has to be very different from the last. Keeping these formulas fresh is Marvel’s specialty – they’ve done superhero deconstruction (IRON MAN 3);  superhero conspiracy thriller (CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER); and now a superhero heist movie with Ant-Man. It’s not Marvel/Disney I’m worried about, but DC/Warner Bros (grim and operatic becomes monotonous fast).

When did Paul Rudd become such a great leading man? He’s been a reliable supporting player in comedies for years, usually lumped with the smarmy best friend role, but here he’s really able to stretch his dramatic chops as well as his usual charm offensive. As Scott Lang, he looks like he’s been put through the wringer, and there’s a real pain in his eyes throughout. Michael Douglas and Evangeline Lilly convincingly play Hank and Hope’s complex father-daughter relationship, and both have a lot of fun putting down Rudd’s overconfidence. Just as Hank Pym could have ended up as just an older version of Tony Stark, Darren Cross could have just been a younger Obidiah Stane, but Corey Stoll gives him enough nuance to interest, playing Cross as a genius with the morals of a cruel seven-year-old who likes pulling the legs off of things. Michael Peña, T.I and David Dastmalchian all play stereotypes as Scott’s cronies, but they’re knowing stereotypes and fun characters with some of the funniest exchanges.Co

It’s funny, while the premise of Ant-Man sounds pretty bizarre and out-there, it’s probably Marvel’s most grounded and contained movie to date. The threat of experimental technology falling into the wrong hands and threatening the world isn’t a new premise, particularly not within the Marvel Cinematic Universe (all three IRON MAN movies, Age of Ultron had the same plot) but it is nice to see the threat pretty confined for a change, mostly limited to a San Francisco suburb and two families rather than the entire world and everything on it.

The action is superb, and very different to anything we’ve seen before in Marvel’s previous efforts. The creative use of scale inherent in portraying the character lends itself to unique, eye-popping and comic set pieces. We see normal household objects in colossal scale as miniature characters leap and flip over them as is common in shrinking movies, but we also often cut to see the action in normal scale, as lightning-fast specks bounce around the environment, which gives the action a concrete geography. There’s a very clever fight that takes place entirely inside a suitcase falling through the air, and that battle on a Thomas The Tank Engine toy that’s been all over the trailers has a killer punchline when it concludes.

The idea of different species of ants being used for different roles is a neat one (the flying Carpenter ants function like a scout plane squadron; swarming Crazy ants can form bridges and ladders; Bullet ants distract guards with a formidable bite) and this makes the inevitable heist planning montage feel fresh and amusingly oddball.

An idea I thought was less well executed was the concept of shrinking to a sub-atomic level. There’s a few key dramatic scenes that incorporate this idea, of taking the ultimate risk to achieve your objective. Visually, it’s interesting enough, going almost psychedelic to portray such a concept. The issue is much the same as the visual portrayal of inter-dimensional concepts in INTERSTELLAR – I didn’t like how they appeared, but at the same time I don’t know how else you’d do it better. The difference between the two films is that Interstellar (and the Nolan brothers) had ideas above their station, whereas Ant-Man and Edgar Wright/Peyton Reed made it essential to the plot and characters’ journeys.

I’m pleased they didn’t go for the over-used sick daughter plot device (a trope even used in my favourite Marvel movie Iron Man 3), but rather Lang becoming “the hero she already thinks he is”. The filmmakers really commit to Lang being an ordinary man becoming extraordinary, a guy who has made some big mistakes in his life using his pint-sized superheroics to redeem his soul. Edgar Wright may not have directed his passion project, so many may feel the final film lacks his distinct dynamism, but many of his script ideas and the general arc of his story remains, and you can’t diminish Peyton Reed’s achievement for coming in at the eleventh hour and still producing something so satisfying. SSP

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Review: Obvious Child (2014)

Posted on July 17, 2015 by Sam S-P

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As well as being both unabashedly filthy and a proud and dignified representation of real humanity, OBVIOUS CHILD boasts the simple (but criminally rare in storytelling) pleasure of seeing a strong female protagonist making a difficult decision and being allowed to see it through to the end. Abortion is still a controversial issue in many arenas, and the film doesn’t claim for a moment that it’s the right decision for everyone, but it was right for Donna, and no judgement is made about her because of it. Or at least no judgement is made within the film, I’m sure Pro-Life activists will have plenty to say.

Part-time Brooklyn standup comedian Donna’s (Jenny Slate) world is rocked when her boyfriend dumps her following yet another gig that plunders her personal life for material. At least, that seems to be the excuse until it comes to light that he was having an affair with one of Donna’s friends. After her friends and family fail to lift her spirits despite their very best efforts, Donna bumps into Max (Alex Lacy) while drowning her sorrows, and the pair have a night of drunken fun. A few weeks later, Donna notices the result of her one-night-stand.

It might sound a little odd, but it really is great to see women discussing their bodily functions so openly. Men joke about smells, sounds and stains, so why can’t women? It’s a very backward and outdated – not to mention sexist – view that it’s somehow improper or unladylike to acknowledge what a fully-functioning body does, and the film revels in bringing these issues front-and-centre for comic effect. Donna’s stand-up routines rely heavily on such material, and it’s a testament to Jenny Slate’s skill as a performer that she makes such honesty so endearing, often visibly cracking up at her own jokes (understandable – they’re hilarious).

The crux of the story (aside from the pregnancy) is Donna getting over one bad relationship and trying to preserve another. She gets pregnant following a one-night stand with a lovely fella, who appreciates her chosen profession, wants to support her, and genuinely cares for her and who she is. Slate and Lacy have brilliant chemistry and you genuinely want it to work between them in the end. Gabby Hoffmann is also good as Donna’s best friend Nellie, who is the voice of reason and wisdom for the pair, and is such an open book that she gives Donna a heart-to-heart from the toilet. Donna doesn’t have as good (or straightforward) a relationship with her parents (Polly Draper and Richard Kind) as both are distant from her in different ways despite caring deeply for their only child. She does have one particularly moving key scene with her mum, where an adult woman becomes a scared little girl all over again in the arms of her mother. In a lesser film this might be where Donna has a change of heart, but Obvious a Child is not a lesser film.

I didn’t think a side-story where Donna fools around with her fellow comedian friend Sam (David Cross) worked at all. I get that we needed a scene where Donna acts like an idiot and pushes Max away to give the story jeopardy and the characters an arc, but it’s impossible to buy that she would turn down such a decent guy for such a jerk just because he’s a fellow comedian. Though usually value for money, Cross is painfully unfunny, so mirthless that he wears an awful tie-dyed string vest back at his apartment seemingly just to give us something to smile at in place of a lack of jokes.

That unnecessary scene aside, Obvious Child in consistently funny and warm, exploring a big issue in a mature, unsentimental and non-sensationalist manner. Not only will it amuse and tug on your heartstrings, it could very well restore your faith in human dignity as well. Writer-director Gillian Robespierre is a sure pair of hands and makes for a winning double-act with the sheer charisma of Jenny Slate. I look forward to seeing what they both do next immensely. SSP

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Review: Amy (2015)

Posted on July 14, 2015 by Sam S-P

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AMY had me glassy eyed both at its beginning and end. Such is the power and the tragedy inherent in exploring the life of an astoundingly talented artist whose time was cut so cruelly short, especially when we see the upsetting contrast between the vitality of their innocence and the extent of their eventual ruination side-by-side. The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long as they say.

Documentary maker Asif Kapadia’s style lends itself incredibly well to stories with vastly differing perspectives on tumultuous lives and events such as this, as he demonstrated previously with SENNA. Talking heads now bore me to tears through their over-use, so it’s refreshing to see this alternative style of filmmaking – extensive archive footage and photos with voiceover – increase in prominence. Winehouse’s father Mitch has very publicly condemned the film as a pack of lies, particularly in relation to the way he feels he is negatively represented. He also claims not enough focus is placed on Amy’s talent and success, and too much of the film is taken up by her self-destruction.

The representation of Mitch in the film is debatable – the key point in which he appears appropriates footage from a documentary he himself commissioned and presented, MY DAUGHTER AMY, where he took a camera crew out to the Caribbean where Amy was recovering from an overdose. Aside from this, his voice is mostly absent from the story, though he is nearly always hovering in the back of shot keeping a close eye on his daughter. I personally think Mitch is over-reacting here. I don’t doubt for a moment that Mitch cared deeply for his daughter, that he would do anything to make her happy. What I do think is that Mitch never fully understood Amy or what she actually needed to become healthy again. Kapadia isn’t blaming Mitch for Amy’s untimely death (if he blames anyone it’s her despicable ex-husband Blake Fielder-Civil) but rather saying no-one could have helped her after she set out on a path of self-destruction to such an extent.

As to Mitch’s latter claim, it’s complete hogwash. The rare live performance footage and early demos showcase Winehouse’s talent sublimely. We probably don’t need the lyrics of the songs superimposed over these sequences as her voice conveys everything perfectly already, but otherwise they are must-see moments for her fans. What Mitch Winehouse wants, it seems, is a film that celebrates his daughter’s achievements and whitewashes her mountain of personal, mental and narcotic issues. That would be a pointless and dishonest exercise. A hagiography does no one any favours.

Amy’s sardonic sense of humour and openness comes through as well. Just look at her pout and struggle to keep her temper when an interviewer inadvertently compares her to Dido, or her schoolgirl giddiness when she finally meets and sings with her hero Tony Bennett. The moments where she’s just hanging out with her friends and bandmates and is just allowed to be herself are the real highlights of the documentary as opposed to the voyeurism of her self-destruction.

I don’t think we’ve ever had a documentary able to make use of such extensive archive material. We live in an age where everyone documents everything, so we’ll likely see a lot more of this in future. It really hits home the extent to which the press and the media destroyed Amy when you see the number of clips of her being hounded, and the ignorance of one pap telling an obviously clinically depressed woman to “cheer up” really makes your blood boul.

Now clearly Amy Winehouse drastically cut her chances of a long life through her heavy use of narcotics (particularly in the downtime between albums) and we can’t ignore that an addict actually needs to want help for treatment to work. Kapadia’s documentary veers from uplifting to downright harrowing, much like Winehouse’s life, career, and perhaps inevitable decline. Kapadia leaves it pretty open as to who to blame for the young artist’s death on 23 July 2011. He certainly doesn’t blame the family as Mitch has claimed, but rather points to the unfortunate combination of fame and a personality that didn’t take at all well to it. Most importantly, though, the documentary is one that celebrates the life and work of a gifted and affectingly flawed human being over mourning her. SSP

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The Red Capes are Coming?

Posted on July 12, 2015 by Sam S-P

The internet is alive at the moment with talk of the first full BATMAN V SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE trailer that made its debut in the legendary Hall H of Comic Con yesterday.

It’s got all the fireworks, striking heroic poses and flying fisticuffs you’d expect from such a title, plus our first proper looks at Gal Gadot’s Wonder Woman (in armour and wielding sword and shield), Jesse Eisenberg’s Lex Luthor (appropriately cocky and amused by the chaos erupting around him), Jeremy Irons’ Alfred (dispensing wisdom) and Holly Hunter being an awfully good sport about being an exposition machine.

We get a general idea of the direction the plot will be going. Following that really boring fight between Superman and Zod at the end of MAN OF STEEL, Kal-el (Henry Cavill) is worshiped as a god by some (a skull-faced cult, because of course), and seen as a menace to the planet by the rest, which brings him into violent conflict with Batman (Ben Affleck).

I’d say it’s a slick, pretty solidly put together piece of marketing. It shows you enough,  but doesn’t go overboard and leave you with nothing to experience for the first time when it hits the big screen. Still no appearances by Aquaman and the rest of the Justice League, but there’s time yet. It was a surprise to see Michael Shannon’s Zod make an appearance on a slab, and it makes me think someone (likely Luthor) might be conducting experiments on it to find the Last Son of Krypton’s weakness, which could be why we see Lex gazing at a lump of Kryptonite behind glass later in the trailer. Speaking of Lex, this brief look at Eisenberg with strawberry blonde locks (they’ll be going at some point) strutting around and seemingly just enjoying the show, is very promising.

What is less clear at this stage is what his final repeated proclamation: “The red capes are coming” actually means. If it was just “the capes are coming” then it could refer to all these superheroes making a splash on Planet Earth, but “red capes” seems more specifically to refer to Superman. We do see some paramilitary types overwhelming Batman in the trailer, and they look to have Superman’s “Not an S” crest emblazoned on their arms, so could it be possible that Luthor is manufacturing an army to support Superman (or at least to give that impression). We also see Supes looking an awful lot like he’s bowing to Luthor, so has Lex got some leverage over his alien nemesis? There’s certainly a lot to think on.

It looks like they’re going for grand, operatic super-serious superheroics again. The scale of the thing, and Zack Snyder sticking to the same muted colour palette as he used for Man of Steel pretty much confirms that this will be the way DC/Warner Bros will be taking their comic book adaptations for the foreseeable future. Fine, but that could get monotonous fast. At least we’ll have SUICIDE SQUAD as a bit of (hopefully) light relief post-Bats vs Supes, and who knows, maybe one of the dueling icons might crack a smile at some point? Or maybe that’s what Lex is for. SSP

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Review: Terminator Genisys (2015)

Posted on July 7, 2015 by Sam S-P

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Arnie is back as the Terminator with a resounding clunk. While TERMINATOR GENISYS isn’t quite the mirthless Hunter-Killer crash TERMINATOR SALVATION was, it hasn’t earned the right to be mentioned in the same breath as any of the first three films either, especially James Cameron’s originals. Speaking of Cameron, he endorsed this one over TERMINATOR 3 as the official third instalment of the franchise. Oh dear.

As the future war between machines and mankind draws to a close, Skynet’s secret weapon, a time machine, allows them to send an assassin back in time to end humanity’s resistance efforts before they begin. The resistance leader John Connor (Jason Clarke) sends his trusted lieutenant Kyle Reece (Jai Courtney) in hot pursuit to protect his mother Sarah Connor (Emilia Clarke) only to find she already has a guardian (Arnold Schwarzenegger).

The first half hour or so of Genisys is just fine. It’s a sort-of Terminator franchise greatest hits really, featuring a battle in the future, time travel back to 1984, new vs old Arnie and the (re-cast) T-1000. After that the film completely derails itself.

I get that there had to be callbacks – that’s partly what the fans are paying for. The recreation of Arnie’s nude arrival and confrontation with the biker gang from THE TERMINATOR works, as does the reprise of John Williams’ iconic musical cue for the reveal of aged Arnie ready to do battle with himself from 30 years ago. Oh by the way, you know that fight that has been hyped to death in every single trailer? It amounts to a pretty uninspiring 2 minutes of punching and conveniently placed shadows.

While the initial musical reprise works, I’ve no idea why director Alan Taylor, composer Lorne Balfe, and especially executive music producer Hans Zimmer thought it would be a good idea to use it again and again at the most inappropriate moments (the worst being when Arnie is literally just sitting down in the back of a truck). It’s just completely unnecessary, like bringing a claymore to a knife fight.

The great thing about the Terminator movies (Salvation aside) is that despite the twisty time travel mechanics they’ve always worked really well as linear chase movies. It always comes down to a simple game of cat-and-mouse between the evil robot of the day and [insert name] Connor and their designated protector. The biggest problem with Genisys (aside from the title) is that it has absolutely no momentum. There are too many story tangents that don’t go anywhere and rarely any clearly defined reasons for why characters make the decisions they do.

The returning characters, so well-defined in previous instalments here are vapid and unlikeable, mere shells of their previous portrayers. Emilia Clarke’s performance is fine, but she talks like a women from 2015 despite Sarah being from 1984 – particularly annoying given the amount of time and effort the crew have put into recreating the streets from the first film, even using the same colour palette and lighting – and somewhere along the way Sarah Connor has lost her edge too. Clarke is sadly no Linda Hamilton. Jai Courtney is certainly no Michael Biehn. He isn’t even an Anton Yelchin. Jason Clarke is clearly having a lot more fun playing his role than we are in watching him, but at least our laughing at Schwarzenegger is intentional – his (sometimes underrated) comic timing just about salvages several scenes.

The first three Terminators all had one jaw-dropping, usually practically achieved, action set piece. The Terminator had that spectacular petrol tanker explosion; T2 had the superlative LA flood channel chase; Terminator 3 had the sublimely destructive crane pursuit through the city. Here there’s really nothing of note. I’m writing this about 48 hours since seeing Genisys and I’m already struggling to recall much of anything. I think there was a helicopter chase in there somewhere, but I think the editing was a bit too quick to really appreciate it. If nothing else, you’d expect a big tentpole action movie like this to be able to deliver on the action. But I guess in the same year as MAD MAX: FURY ROAD, every other action film will ultimately come up short.

It was a big mistake for the marketing team to ruin the only real twist in the tale almost out of the gate. I’m not going to spoil it here, but good luck avoiding it because they decided to put it on the poster! The whole enterprise just smacks of attempting too much too soon, Paramount executives’ desperate attempt to churn a few more of these out before Cameron gets his Intellectual Property back in 2019. A few smiles raised by Arnie back in his most famous role and the machines looking shinier than they ever have before can’t make up for such lacklustre efforts everywhere else. SSP

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Review: Jupiter Ascending (2015)

Posted on July 3, 2015 by Sam S-P

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One thing’s for sure – Andy and Lana Wachowski will never make a dull film. Even their misfires – and JUPITER ASCENDING is certainly one of those – are fascinating.

Jupiter Jones (Mila Kunis), the daughter of a Russian immigrant, appears completely unremarkable save for her being the product of her parents’ hugely romantic chance meeting. Every day is the same for her, working as a cleaner with her mum and aunt in Chicago, so naturally Jupiter dreams of something more, and fixes her eyes on the stars. Meanwhile, far out in space an ancient and tyrannical dynasty have their eyes fixed on Jupiter, and on Earth…

I won’t deny I had a massive grin on my face at times. Take the dazzlingly creative chase where two people are trying to escape from a fleet of spaceships with one pair of hover boots, or the amusing sci-fi civil service scene riffing on Douglas Adams and Terry Gilliam (and actually featuring the one of those who isn’t dead yet). It’s aesthetically stunning throughout really, showcasing first-class makeup and CGI, and aside from a monotonous final act the action rarely disappoints. It’s also nice to see the Wachowskis’ commitment to wirework and advanced rigs when staging complex action still remains.

The ideas – big science fiction ones – are good too, it’s just a shame they’re not given the screentime to bear fruit. Nurturing planets until they are at just the right stage to harvest their previous lifeforce – that’s a great idea. Designer genetics for anyone vain enough or seeking to adopt a useful animal trait – that’s a great idea. An intergalactic family feud manifesting as a war over resources, and more importantly for their vanity – that’s a great idea. But for a film do preoccupied with its visuals, Jupiter prefers to tell, rather than show more often than not, and reduces too many of its characters to exposition-o-matics.

There’s no avoiding the fact that our lead protagonist Jupiter, as likeable and grounded as she is made to begin with, does a lot of falling through space, being knocked out, and (rather creepily) being redressed while unconscious, usually by men. She even comments on the latter point in dialogue, and when a character seems to realise they are being exploited for the sake of the plot they are part of, you know you’re in trouble. Her canine super-soldier escort Caine (name taken straight out of the sci-fi/fantasy handbook) is cool in the action scenes, but Channing Tatum too mumbly and not enough is made of his wolf-like traits. Most of the rest of the cast might as well have not bothered, especially Sean Bean, who treads water and only occasionally seems to remember he has bee vision. Eddie Redmayne is a lot of fun as the big baddie, and does his very best Ralph Fiennes-as-Voldermort camply strained rasp, but he disappears for half the movie, leaving us with boring substitute antagonists.

The script is mostly diabolical, and is very talky without saying anything. It does feature one of the most awful, yet genius lines of dialogue in recent years: “Bees have been genetically engineered to sense royalty”. That is just fabulous. You could put that on a T-shirt. Mythology-wise, you feel very much like you’re receiving the cliff notes, Jupiter Ascending Abridged if you will. It’s like you’re only half-hearing a really interesting conversation at a busy party. This is particularly disappointing when you remember how much time and effort the Wachowskis put into establishing the complex workings of the worlds of THE MATRIX, CLOUD ATLAS, hell, even SPEED RACER. You usually have a general idea of what is going on in the plot thanks to the siblings’ sheer dynamism, but you never exactly feel involved in this story or its characters’ exploits.

The Wachowskis really badly want this to be DUNE meets CINDERELLA, but it ends up being a pale imitation of both with a few high points and plenty of visual flare. Not a complete waste of your time then, rather a beautiful, frustrating, curiosity. SSP

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Review: Mortdecai (2015)

Posted on June 29, 2015 by Sam S-P

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MORTDECAI may well be not only the worst film Johnny Depp has ever starred in, but also the most painful performance of his career as well.

A farce set in the art world’s underbelly in an ambiguous decade, we follow Charlie Mortdecai (Johnny Depp), an art dealer in serious tax debt who reluctantly accepts a mission from MI5. That mission is to track a stolen painting containing a secret that is sought after by some rather unsavoury individuals, all in exchange for Her Majesty’s reprieve.

The story? Well, apart from the quite frankly desperately cobbled together synopsis above, there really isn’t one. Instead we are given a series of seemingly unrelated sketches, each boasting gags less funny than the last. Farces are meant to be entertaining confusing, not annoyingly incomprehensible. Characters in these kinds of stories are meant to be endearingly lost, not bilious morons without merit.

Detestable from the very start, Charlie Mordecai opens the film with an odious ode to his new facial hair. I know it’s an intentionally exaggerated performance, but Depp chose that wormy smile, that slurring upper class sub-FAST SHOW diction, and it all starts to grate even before the movie’s two-minute mark. Mortdecai is impossible to like – though good characters almost never have to be likeable – but he’s completely one-note as well. The character’s inconsistency gets to me as well. Is it possible to bumble and stumble through life to such an extent and have an encyclopaedic knowledge of art and social history? If that’s a comment on the English upper classes, then it’s not a very good one. Either David Koepp is picking and choosing when to make Mortdecai an idiot or he doesn’t realise how bad his screenplay is. Funny voices and silly behaviour alone do not make for a good comedy film. There have to be actual jokes, or at the bare minimum, wit. Inspector Clouseau was always an idiot, but he was a lucky idiot and he saved the day through sheer fluke. Mortdecai is a selective idiot that exposes glaring weakness in the film’s screenplay.

Gwyneth Paltrow is wasted as Mortdecai’s wife Johanna, which is a real shame as as the brains of the relationship she could have been a really interesting character. Paul Bettany, on the other hand, appears to be part of another much better comedy film as Mortdecai’s hired muscle/valet Jock. Bettany is so endearingly dedicated to his master, is such an earnest hard-man throughout that you almost forgive him for not saying no to the uttering dialogue comparing women to cars. Ewan McGregor is fine as an MI5 agent. Depp must have been thrilled to get his (somewhat baffling) acting hero Paul Whitehouse to cameo as what appears to be a reprisal one of his sketch show characters.

There’s some really ugly scene transitions that look like the map scenes from INDIANA JONES mocked up in a Computer Aided Design programme from the late 90s. Making these an essential part of the globetrotting was a mistake. The film’s editing in general is a little haphazard in all honesty.

Mortdecai saying that the moustache he has recently committed to will “eventually come to fruition”, the “Oo golly I’ve read about this!” response to being drugged in a toilet, and a moment of pure slapstick while out on a hunt, all raised a slight smile. Acting surprised at the extent of his debt by quipping “I didn’t realise I was so deep in Her Majesty’s hole”, didn’t.

Using vomit in an action sequence without going over-the-top requires a lightness of touch. Koepp doesn’t manage it in Mortdecai, and you just think “Did you really have to?”. The same goes for well over half of the crude gags in the film – I’m not saying you can’t have toilet humour, but these jokes have to be funny enough to justify their being there. At the film’s 20-minute mark, where we’ve just had two successive gagging at the moustache gags (there was more to come on that score), I was seriously conducting hurling the laptop I was watching the film on at a sturdy wall. There’s just so little on offer to make the pain the viewer is being put through worth it.

There’s one good line in the entire film, when Mortdecai insults a thug laying into him with: “Your mother and father only met once, and money changed hands…Probably less than a twenty!”. Another line that McGregor comes out with early on succinctly sums up the film: “Are you quite finished buggering around?”. Koepp has been a good writer in the past, and has shown particular skill at adapted screenplays, but should probably take a break from directing. Depp has been a good actor, but his career has been on the ropes for a while and he needs roles that amount to more than pulling faces to his stoney-faced audience. SSP

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Review: Whiplash (2014)

Posted on June 25, 2015 by Sam S-P

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Who needs bells-and-whistles action scenes when you can make the simple sight of someone drumming for another’s approval this intense? I don’t particularly feel that any of the final list of potential Best Picture Oscar winners really deserved to be named the best of 2014 (the snubbing of NIGHTCRAWLER and MR. TURNER particularly rankles) but WHIPLASH probably comes closest out of The Academy’s selection.

Andrew (Miles Teller) has a dream of being the next jazz drumming great, the next Buddy Rich. He’s well on his way to being a musical prodigy, attending a well-regarded music college and performing in some of the best bands in the country. But someone wants to crush Andrew’s dream, and that man is the psychotic and malicious bandleader Terence Fletcher (JK Simmons). Egos collide and the battle to achieve perfection begins, but who will triumph in this battle of wills, Andrew or Fletcher?

Yes, Simmons deserves every one of his plaudits, making Fletcher an unknowable sneering hurricane. He’s arguably the most formidable on-screen mentor/abuser since FULL METAL JACKET, and much like that movie’s Drill Sergent Hartman, you want to despise him but can’t quite bring yourself to, mostly because of the way he grinds people down is so darned funny-uncomfortable.  His profane, homophobic outbursts are awful, but hilarious. Simmons’ terrifying presence and what he does to Andrew and others over the course of the film would be enough to make him memorable, but I also loved the subtle, almost playfully supernatural trappings of him as a character. Fletcher is a ghoul, a spectre with the uncanny ability to appear at any moment to completely and utterly destroy you. No other man alive could make a criticism like “not quite my tempo” drip, nay gush, with such menace.

You can’t take anything away from Miles Teller, either. The film hinges on Fletcher having someone’s misery to feed off, like a smart-casual Dementor, and Teller brings to sweaty, blistering and bloody life Andrew’s near-constant suffering. Teller has been playing drums since he was a child, and does around half of Andrew’s on-screen performing, a real achievement in addition to evoking all the complexities and misery of his character.

As well as the nerve-shredding band practice and performance sequences that act as the film’s set pieces, Whiplash gives us the most uncomfortable breakup scene since THE SOCIAL NETWORK. We’re willing Andrew not to go through with it, to not act like such a jerk to the lovely Nicole (Melissa Benoist) but we simultaneously know everything he’s telling her is true, that there is no room for her on his life as long as he plays.

It’s a stroke of genius to have Andrew’s drive morph from passion for his art to utter detest of his mentor. It’s a really good arc that inexorably binds the fate of our protagonist to that of our antagonist and comments on the fragility of creative drive and the duel nature of love and hate. At first we think Fletcher is testing Andrew down to build him back up again, the classic “for your own good” prickly mentor tack, but we soon realise Fletcher is simply abusing Andrew because he enjoys doing it. Equally, when Andrew starts to fight back, determined to beat Fletcher at his own game and prove he is that good, it’s for purely selfish reasons, to humiliate Fletcher rather than to achieve musical transcendence.

The one scene that I didn’t buy, Andrew’s car crash and subsequent bloodstained stagger to perform, could conceivably have been inspired by the experiences of Teller and his director, Damien Chazelle, both of whom have been involved in such trauma in recent years. Chazelle even returned to work the day after his crash, much in the same way Andrew still somehow makes it to perform. Why not use your own experiences to add a bit of (admittedly unnecessary) dramatic clout to your movie?

Dramatic flourish aside, Whiplash is a hypnotic, exhausting experience boasting two of the best performances of the year. It’s too carefully rehearsed and meticulously put together to be considered truly “jazzy”, but as a chronicle of two human beings using music as a tool to tear each other apart, it’s a dark delight. SSP

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40 Years On: Jaws (1975)

Posted on June 20, 2015 by Sam S-P

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On 20 June 1975, something came from the water to change the landscape of summer movie releases forever. 40 years on, and, rubber shark aside, JAWS is still an astounding piece of filmmaking, a masterpiece that bridges classic Hollywood and the modern blockbuster. It’s easily among Steven Spielberg’s most accessible, enjoyable and enduring works, which says something considering the length of his career and the variety of movies he has directed.

For those just hearing about these new-fangled things called movies, Jaws tells the story of a really big shark terrorising a small coastal community at the height of the holiday season. After a series of grisly deaths and the general atmosphere of panic rising, a cop, a marine biologist and a salty seadog set sail to find the shark culprit and destroy it.

Iconic scenes, characters, dialogue and especially John Williams’ spine-tingling score aside, what Jaws really is is a masterclass in pacing. Rarely has a film been built so perfectly around a classic three act structure, acts that flow beautifully, feeding back and forth to further inform plot and character. The first act is a delicious character-driven identify-the-monster mystery. The second act sees things really get out of control and characters put through the wringer. The final act sees the hunter become the hunted in a high-seas adventure, where our characters are forced to work together to outsmart and defeat their foe. You may have noticed the importance of character throughout the story, and we are giving a trio of lasting, complex and fascinatingly different protagonists in Brody, Hooper and Quint, performed impeccably by Roy Scheider, Richard Dreyfuss and Robert Shaw.

Our heroes are a flawed bunch. Chief Brody is a nice guy driven to do the right thing, but he also has a certain disdain for the community under his protection; Matt Hooper knows his stuff and has youthful charm, but is also reckless and can be patronising to those less-educated; Captain Quint has been doing what he’s doing for a long time and is among the best at it, but he has demons to deal with and an intense dislike of those of a different class and/or background. These character flaws and abrasions come up time and time again as the trio prepare for their quest and ultimately have to work together when they set sail, but it all truly comes to a head in the infamous SS Indianapolis monologue delivered by Quint. Their differences are put aside as Brody, Hooper and Quint get sloshed, and a new respect and understanding comes about from Quint finally opening up about exactly why he hates and fears sharks so much.

It’s really quite incredible that Steven Spielberg still has such affection for this, his most traumatic work that had another potential disaster waiting for him round every corner. The on-set stories are legendary, from the near-constant loudspeaker announcement that “The shark is not working!” to Robert Shaw’s alcoholism and detest (duly reciprocated) for Richard Dreyfus, to the project going stupidly over-time and over-budget, resulting in Spielberg nearly being fired before he was allowed to complete the movie. It’s a testament to Spielberg’s tenacity and creativity that he managed to turn many of the film’s apparent weaknesses into strengths. The animatronic shark didn’t work, so we rarely glimpse it and our imaginations is left to do most of the hard work. Shaw hated Dreyfus, so there’s a palpable tension in Quint and Hooper’s relationship, with Brody (and Scheider) forced to play struggling peacekeeper.

Jaws is a film that lasts, a film just as thrilling and engrossing on the fiftieth watch as the first. There are few films I can quote verbatim, but Jaws is one I still love to challenge my dad to a quote-off, to see who will draw a blank first. The shark was always a bit rubbish, but the rest of the overall package is still so satisfying to experience time and time again. The film is still held in high regard for good reason, and is such a key influence to contemporary filmmakers today, from Bryan Singer’s production company Bad Hat Harry to Spielberg referencing it himself in TINTIN. Here’s to another 40 years of cinematic dominance, and in that time surely we’re gonna need a bigger movie. SSP

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Review: Pride (2014)

Posted on June 17, 2015 by Sam S-P

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PRIDE is good-ish. They’re going for feelgood, and they certainly succeed in delivering that, but if you’re looking for much more then you might leave a little disappointed.

Following a chance encounter between student Joe (George MacKay) and a passionate group of gay rights activists lead by Mark (Ben Schnetzer), the group decide to stand with the plighted striking miners of a small village in Wales. While the Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners campaign and charity drive is gratefully received by some residents of Onllwyn, a key element protest support from such a source, and it is not long before unions across the UK hear of this bizarre alliance and the national press spin the story to their own ends, which leads to a landmark moment in the summer of 1984.

The film is gentle and funny and well-performed across the board. Bill Nighy hasn’t been this good in years, with an unusually understated and moving turn. We’re just so used to him hamming or adding whatever gravitas he can to stupid chunks of exposition in genre fare that it’s easy to forget he really can act. Nigh makes community leader Cliff shy and reserved but also passionate spokesman for his village, a character description fascinating in its contradictions. Also good are Jessica Gunning, Paddy Considine and Joseph Gilgun as key Onllwyn residents and one of the lower-key gay rights campaigners respectively. Oh, and Dominic West gets a fabulous dance scene. The curiously un-Welsh main cast do a fine job of putting on the accents and the inhabitants of the wider Welsh mining village sportingly engage in some light self-deprecation and stereotyping: “We don’t mind the gays and the lesbians, but don’t you dare be bringing people from North Wales down here!”.

My main problem with Pride was the almost complete lack of threat. Your comedy-drama tends to weigh a bit heavier on the former side without much jeopardy, and there is next to none of it on show here. I understand you don’t always have to actually witness atrocities, that some things imagined can have a far greater impact than what you see. This doesn’t change the fact that the film would have been more resounding had at least one darker sequence punctuated the relentless cheer and optimism. There’s a lot of talk about what indignities homosexuals and those working down the pits have endured at the hands of the government, but little evidence for it. We all know how badly the Miners’ Strikes affected the United Kingdom during the 1980s. We all know how dangerous it could still be to be a homosexual thirty years ago. But we don’t really get a feel for either. When Joe comes out to his parents, the camera pans away before we see the result, depriving us of a key moment of drama. We cut just before Gethin (Andrew Scott) is attacked in the street because he is gay.

At other points the film seems unnecessarily cut down, like we’re missing some pretty major plot and character points, despite running at just shy of two hours. Shortly after he has been cast out (offscreen) by his family for his sexuality and his involvement in the pro-miners campaign, we see Joe resolutely stride back into his family’s house after being ostracised to insult his sister and her fiancé. These are two characters we are apparently meant to dislike and take pleasure from Joe’s barbed insults despite the fact that we are meeting them for the very first time in this scene. That’s either bad writing or heavy-handed editing, and neither does a film any favours.

For a political film, Pride doesn’t seem all that political, either. The 1980s was the decade of angry UK politics, but you don’t get much a sense of that here. BILLY ELLIOT, which could be considered a companion piece, for all its romanticism, at least actually showed you the miners rioting and the consequences of the walkouts and clashes with police. This film, for all its good intentions, high-quality cast and uplifting tone lacks volatility and a powerful voice. SSP

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