Fantastic Four (2005)

Posted on December 14, 2012 by badblokebob

In the wake of highly successful franchise launches for X-Men and Spider-Man, the next Marvel superheroes to be afforded the big-screen treatment were the Fantastic Four, a kind of family imbued with superpowers after a space accident. “Kind of family” translated to “family movie” for Fox executives, and they produced this dross.

“Family movie” does not automatically equal bad superhero film. Indeed, The Incredibles is one of the sub-genre’s best offerings. I don’t know much about the Fantastic Four comics, but it strikes me that Pixar more successfully hit the tone and style that the makers of this film were aiming for.

The problem I felt is that this incarnation of the FF doesn’t really have a story. They kind of meander through a few things that Happen, then a villain finally emerges and they defeat him. It leaves the film bereft of narrative drive; a series of scenes strung together without a common goal. When those scenes are populated with middling acting, unengaging characters, lacklustre humour, stalled drama, and both practical and computer-generated special effects that look about twice as old as the film is, then the experience you’re left with isn’t entertaining on almost any level.

An interesting footnote about this film is the list of weird, minor regional differences, which don’t bear repeating but are at that link if you’re interested. It also received a surely-unasked-for extended cut on DVD in the US, which included completely different (longer) opening credits; both promenade & planetarium scenes from the regional variations; and mostly new character scenes, as if the film didn’t have enough of those already, or plot extensions that help make more sense of stuff that, actually, more-or-less scanned OK anyway. I can’t imagine anyone wanting an even longer version of this, but it takes all sorts, eh.

They’re re-booting Fantastic Four soon (an unusual summer-season-dodging Spring 2015 release date was recently announced) and I wish them well — the characters have run in comics for over 50 years; there must be something to them. Hopefully those in charge can learn from this film’s mistakes, and the successes of family-friendly efforts like The Incredibles, and give us something so good we can forget this ’00s incarnation ever happened.

This review is part of the 100 Films Advent Calendar 2012. Read more here.

The Lincoln Lawyer (2011)

Posted on December 13, 2012 by badblokebob

2012 #23
Brad Furman | 114 mins | TV | 2.35:1 | USA / English | 15 / R

Adapted from a novel by best-selling author Michael Connelly, The Lincoln Lawyer seemed to appear out of nowhere and garner an uncommonly high amount of praise. I’m glad that intrigued me, because, while not a revelatory experience, it’s certainly worth your time.

The story concerns hot-shot lawyer Mick Haller (Matthew McConaughey), who works out of the back of his car (hence the title), and his latest case, defending a rich playboy accused of murder. Essentially, it’s a solid crime/legal thriller; the kind of thing we’d probably get as a 90-minute TV episode over here, but thanks to America not really having that format, it gets the cinema treatment. Nonetheless, it’s well enough acted, with an interesting enough story, to sustain the grander status automatically afforded to something released theatrically.

As a thriller its plot is naturally packed with surprises, reversals, about-turns… in other words, twists. The big one plays at the halfway point, which is a nice change. It’s not exactly an unguessable turn of events, but the story may still have a few surprises up its sleeve. Of course, anyone who watches or reads enough crime fiction is rarely (if ever) going to be surprised by a thriller’s plot, as they all essentially re-arrange a selection of elements from the genre’s large grab bag in a way that makes them moderately unique. Connelly and adaptor John Romano make sure Lincoln Lawyer arranges its chosen selection in a way that indeed makes it unique enough, especially when buoyed by some quality acting and slick (but not show-off-y) direction from Furman.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen McConaughey in anything (nothing I remember, anyway), but my impression has been he’s not all that. Here, though, he nails the slightly-smarmy-but-kinda-likeable street-wise defence attorney Mick Haller. He’s buoyed by a quality cast: Ryan Phillippe is eminently plausible as a rich kid used to getting his own way, while the likes of William H. Macy, Marisa Tomei, John Leguizamo and Bob Gunton offer typically consummate support.

The array of small roles arranged around Haller once again make it feel like the setup for a TV series. There’s his ex-wife and their daughter; his investigator ‘sidekick’; his driver (important when you work out of the back of your car); a couple of detectives he butts heads with; the bale bondsman who gets him work; some regular clients… They do all have a role to play in this particular tale, but with so many it feels like setting up avenues to be explored in future episodes. I suppose all thriller authors do this nowadays – their heroes are designed to run for books and books (Haller’s only at four, but Connelly’s other main character has amassed 17+, and you can see similar numbers in other author’s series), so they need to be set up like a TV series. Plus it helps if they ever get adapted for TV… and just to cement such a view, NBC have commissioned a TV spin-off from this. (Lionsgate also talked of pushing ahead with a sequel. I haven’t heard anything about either project for ages so don’t know their current status.)

That may be the tip of the iceberg for Michael Connelly on screen. Though this is only the second adaptation of his work, he’s clearly successful in print and positioning himself for a big-screen future: after languishing in development hell for 20 years, he recently paid Paramount $3 million for the rights to his most prolific character. With said character being the half-brother of Haller, and that Lincoln Laywer sequel in development, maybe Connelly’s work is destined to become the Marvel Cinematic Universe of crime/legal film adaptations. This could be the time to get in on the ground floor.

One might argue that The Lincoln Lawyer doesn’t quite do enough to transcend the feeling of a TV procedural, and it’s a point of view I have some sympathy for. But even still, it’s a high-quality, well-made example of the genre.

This review is part of the 100 Films Advent Calendar 2012. Read more here.

The Lincoln Lawyer placed 8th on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2012, which can be read in full here.

Drive Angry (2011)

Posted on December 12, 2012 by badblokebob

Nic Cage does the Taken thing with added CGI and supernatural posturing in this grindhouse-y actioner from the director of such inspiring films as The Prophecy 3, Dracula 2001 and the My Bloody Valentine remake.

The grindhouse style works for it. It’s got a crazy plot, crazy action, gratuitous violence, gratuitous nudity, rough production values, variable acting, loopy bad guys — the highlight is definitely the latter, with William Fichtner channelling Christopher Walken. The whole thing could do with being punchier and pacier, and shorter, but the out-there action, some bits of dialogue, and Fichtner make it almost worthwhile. None of it is especially memorable, but while it lasts it’s appreciably trashy.

That said, the sex scene fight is a steal from Shoot ‘Em Up, and not a very good steal. Slow-mo saps it of all tension or excitement. Other action scenes fare better, but by no means all of them. Edited by the director and his brother, I think they need to learn some new tricks to punch these scenes up a bit. It gets better as the film goes on and they have crazier material, but some of the early stuff is remarkably pedestrian.

The film’s promotion made a big point of being shot in 3D (instead of the usual style of “Drive Angry 3D”, the posters call it “Drive Angry Shot in 3D”), but most of the in-your-face “look it’s 3D!” stuff is CGI anyway. So would it benefit from being seen in 3D? Only in that stuff flies at the camera and whatnot. You can indeed tell it was made for 3D, but that doesn’t mean it needs it. Indeed, the poke-the-audience stuff aside, none of it suggests it would look great in 3D — for all the pointlessness of cinema’s new money-spinning format, it can add something to the vistas in a film like Avatar. Drive Angry has nothing vaguely on that level.

These days your big blockbusters won’t get you change from $200m, so at $50m Drive Angry is a cheapy – which at least explains some of its low-rent looks. But it’s not that cheap, and the CGI is appalling. Some of it was of the level I’d expect from a direct-to-DVD mockbuster, and those are made for closer to $50 than $50m. In spite of the low cost, it did spectacularly badly at the box office. Even though it sold itself as “Starring Film Star Nicolas Cage” and “look there’s action!” and “look there’s a sexy girl!” (these are the three main things you get from the poster, and I imagine the trailers also), it opened a paltry 9th at the US box office and took just $28.9m… worldwide. Total. That’s only about 60% of its budget. Its poor performance makes it “the lowest-grossing opening of a 3D film released in over 2,000 US theatres”. Unlike some low-budget flops (Dredd 3D, I’m looking at you), this commercial failure doesn’t really bother me.

As noted, director Lussier does not have an inspiring CV: he started with numerous straight-to-video sequels, then a big screen sequel-no-one-wanted (even with Nathan Fillion in it) in White Noise: The Light, before what I guess must’ve been a modicum of success with My Bloody Valentine, which I seem to remember a (relatively) big fuss being made about because it was one of the first live-action things in true 3D or somesuch. Perhaps the massive flopping of Drive Angry will kill his career back off — his next project is apparently re-make threequel Halloween III, which I don’t imagine anyone anywhere is eagerly anticipating.

Drive Angry isn’t completely without merit, but it’s the kind of film where you have to hunt for the good stuff among the dross. Even as brain-off actioners go, you can do better.

This review is part of the 100 Films Advent Calendar 2012. Read more here.

Tiny Furniture (2010)

Posted on December 11, 2012 by badblokebob

Some have been quick to call twenty-something writer-director-actress Lena Dunham “the voice of a generation”; usually older people who think this is how people that age are, because I’m part of Dunham’s generation and she certainly doesn’t speak for me, and you don’t have to go far or look hard on the ‘net to find similar views. But it’s turned out alright for her, as by whatever ridiculously young age she is she’s made this film, got a multi-season series on HBO (the critically divisive Girls), and recently signed a ludicrously lucrative book deal. Clearly, she speaks to someone.

Tiny Furniture, then, comes with a predisposition to dislike it from anyone who isn’t a hipster or desperate to be relevant to hipsters (I feel like this is the point at which to note that it’s recently been inducted into the Criterion Collection). It’s a slow-paced, consciously arthouse-drama-y story film about unlikeable people leading unlikeable lives. I think everyone in it is either selfish or at least self-centred, and even if you buy into any of its characters being more than that, Dunham eventually unmasks them as gits in one way or another.

It’s hard to tell if the film knows everyone appearing in it is so awful, and is inviting us to judge them in some way (be it to look down on them, or to laugh at them, or to just generally dislike them); or if it actually wants us to think they’re all alright really; or if there’s supposed to be some distinction over which ones are good and which ones not so much. If the last, it’s thoroughly unclear to those of us (that’d be most of us) who are just looking in on this self-obsessed world — all of the characters are a much for muchness in their levels of (un)relatability and (un)likeability.

Trying to read Dunham’s intentions in these regards is complicated by the film being clearly autobiographical. And if it isn’t, it’s working overtime to suggest it is. Dunham writes, directs and stars as the lead character; said character’s mother and sister are played by Dunham’s real mother and sister; I wouldn’t be surprised to learn her friends are played by her friends. Her apparent status as ‘the voice of a generation’ and the little I’ve read about her HBO series suggests to me that this is, if not 100% true to her life experience, at least a fictionalised version of it. Which again begs the question, are we actually meant to like some of these people? To identify with them? It’s clear Dunham has no problem with putting herself down and presenting herself in a negative light, but it feels to be in an angsty, whiny, “you totally get this, yah right?” way.

Yet, for all its characters’ many faults, there is something somewhat engrossing about Tiny Furniture. It’s not the car-crash rubber-necking of watching a bunch of people you dislike make fools of themselves, nor is it a burgeoning understanding that underneath it all these are genuine, relatable people. Perhaps it’s because Dunham can, to some degree, empathise with all of her characters — that almost all have some pros to go along with their cons (except, perhaps, the men) — that she occasionally, sneakily, gets you on board.

Many reviews cite Woody Allen as an influence, and it’s easy to see why: a small-scale autobiographical dialogue-driven New York-set study of specific people in a specific time. It falls short of such lofty aspirations on a few fronts, not least the evocation of the setting — there’s no trouble doubting this is set in New York, but you don’t feel the city the way you do in Annie Hall or Manhattan or many more of Allen’s works. But comparing a newcomer to a master is always a hiding to nothing for the newbie, so best not judge her too harshly for that.

Visually, the film belies its super-low-budget origins. In part this is the 2.35:1 frame, usually reserved for mega-blockbusters, which makes it ultra-filmic. In part it’s the slick interiors, cleanly shot, often with squared-off framing in longer takes, which comes across as film-literate rather than amateurish dump-the-camera. Only occasional exteriors, like grainy nighttime shots, give away the cheap roots. If nothing else, Dunham knows how to make a film look like a film.

And after all that, there’s the ending. Or, perhaps, the stopping, because does it actually End? I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with the concept of an opaque ending; one that, rather than resolve everything entirely, asks the audience to project their own meaning or their own imagined conclusion onto the events witnessed thus far. Rather than reach out and slap you in the face with an explanation, an effective opaque ending (such as Mulholland Drive’s) is like a hand reaching out to you, but you then must work to reach out yourself and grasp that hand. A bad one is like 3D: the hand is reaching out to you, but when you reach out to take it you find there’s actually nothing there; it was just an illusion.* I rather suspect Tiny Furniture’s guff about still hearing the ticking clock is that 3D hand.

That said, even as I write this, something struck me. But it’s terribly pretentious (in the full dictionary-defined sense) and so not much better. And weeks after watching the film, I can’t even remember it.

It’s difficult to know what to make of Tiny Furniture. I thought I was going to despise it, yet despite there being no clear sense of storyline, plot or even genuine thematic point, and additionally finding all of the characters to be unrelatable and largely unlikeable, I found it moderately engrossing. It’s not really good, but it’s strangely not bad either.

This review is part of the 100 Films Advent Calendar 2012. Read more here.

* I’m really quite proud of this analogy. I’m totally using it again. ^

The Call of Cthulhu (2005)

Posted on December 10, 2012 by badblokebob

2012 #89
Andrew Leman | 47 mins | DVD | 4:3 | USA / English

I must admit to not being at all familiar with the work of H.P. Lovecraft. I know the name, of course, and the titles of some of his stories, not to mention being aware of the array of well-known fans. Aside from that, I’ve only encountered his work through its influence — there’s some stuff in the Hellboy films, for instance, or the Lovecraft/Wodehouse mash-up in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: Black Dossier. This is my first experience of the undiluted thing, however.

This is an adaptation of a short story first published in 1928, which led its makers to the inspired idea of filming it as if it had been made at the time — in short, as a silent film. This lends an instant… not charm, exactly, but sort of ingenuity. There are a couple of cheats that wouldn’t have been available to 1920s filmmakers, but all are modern low-budget equivalents of something they would have achieved a different way.

And low budget it certainly is. Depending on your point of view, it’s either a fan film or a micro-budget indie. If may lack a final level of polish to qualify for the latter — it was shot on video and it shows (though less so in black & white than in colour, interestingly) — but, if the former, it’s a very slick example; much more professionally executed than Browncoats: Redemption, say.

The marriage of low-budget and silent film style is one made in heaven, particularly when you add in the dedication of the makers. They built impressive props, ingenious sets, and employed model work in various inventive ways, all to execute a story that includes a cultist swamp orgy, a mysterious island, a sea battle, and a skyscraper-sized monster. Some online reviews have criticised the effects, but those people are quite frankly idiots. This isn’t meant to be slick CGI — it’s re-creating lo-fi early film techniques, and (aside from one or two rough-round-the-edges spots of greenscreen) it all looks fabulous.

I would go on, but one of my chief pleasures in the film was the surprises of the effects work, so I don’t want to spoil it for you. The making-of on the DVD is certainly worth a watch (it’s also better made than some I’ve seen on professional films), and I’ll add that a particular favourite of mine is the methods they used to create the highly atmospheric bayou sequence. The model set is incredible!

It’s easy to get distracted by the production when its makers have worked such wonders with next-to-no budget, but there’s also solid storytelling going on here. I have no idea how closely it hews to Lovecraft’s original, but there’s a layered stories-within-stories approach (I think it gets four deep at one point) that is difficult to pull off with clarity, but never falters here. Christopher Nolan would be proud. It also effectively builds a sense of uncanny mystery; not outright scares, but a kind of disquieting unease. It’s my impression that was absolutely Lovecraft’s aim too, so another job well done.

It’s fair to say The Call of Cthulhu isn’t a film for everyone, but then often the best ones aren’t. As well as Lovecraft enthusiasts, fans of silent film and creepy (as opposed to jumpy or gory) horror should definitely give it a go. It’s only 50 minutes of your life, and you might have the same reaction as me: I’m now eager to read Lovecraft’s actual work, and have just received the Blu-ray of the filmmakers’ follow-up, a ’30s-Universal-horror-styled take on another Lovecraft tale. Inspiring such a desire for more is surely always a sign of a good film.

This review is part of the 100 Films Advent Calendar 2012. Read more here.

The Expendables (2010)

Posted on December 9, 2012 by badblokebob

As The Avengers is to superhero movies, so The Expendables is to ’80s action films. More or less. I mean, this isn’t a character team-up, just an actor one… but these actors played essentially the same characters all the time anyway.

It’s also the kind of film that uses The Boys Are Back In Town on its end credits in a non-ironic way.

Set very much Now (it begins with a fight against Somali pirates), with no acknowledgement of the fact these guys might be a bit past it, the story concerns Sylvester Stallone’s gang of mercenaries being hired by a mysterious chap to overthrow the dictator of a small island somewhere that speaks Spanish. That’s about all you need to know, because the point of The Expendables is to have people shoot, punch, kick, stab and blow each other up. And that’s fine.

You see, this isn’t a reconstructed action movie, or a revisionist one, or an attempt to progress the genre in any other way. There’s an attempt to inject some kind of heart or introspectiveness into the characters, but nothing much out of the norm for the genre, and certainly nothing significant in the “I’m too old for this” department. (There’s an extended cut that adds even more of this, which sounds frankly unnecessary.) I think that annoyed some viewers, but maybe they should’ve more carefully considered what they were watching. This is a film that headlines Stallone and his modern-day equivalent Jason Statham, with a main cast fleshed out by ‘names’ like Randy Couture and Terry Crews. Hardly Al Pacino, or even Bourne-level Matt Damon.

What you do get is a film that revels in its action-movie-ness. I mean, most of the characters have great (read: daft) action movie names: Barney Ross, Lee Christmas, Yin Yang, Toll Road, Hale Caesar, Paine… How is that not a film aware of its own absurdity? How can you not enjoy that, even a little? Then there’s all the homoeroticism. Stallone goes for the full on camp look: bulging muscles, collagened lips, perma-tanned mahogany, little goatee, beret… Statham gets an early subplot with a love interest; Mickey Rourke is said to have a string of totty; Stallone almost has a love interest, but kind of rejects her at every turn. I’m sure you could easily entertain yourself by reading the film as him being in the closet — pair up his references to previous hurtful relationships with his animosity towards Schwarzenegger, for instance. Makes you wonder what Barney and Lee get up to on those long autopilot flights to and from the island…

Everyone gets their chance to shine, including those lesser names in supporting roles like Couture (pulling off something Stallone’s character can’t), Crews (with a wonderfully loud gun) and Steve Austin (kicking Sly’s ass). There are cameos from Bruce Willis (watch the gag reel — it seems he could barely be bothered to learn his lines) and Arnie (I know he was never a great actor, but was he always that bad?) They’re fun though, and help contribute a couple of memorable lines.

The main joy of the film is, of course, the action. There are plentiful big explosions, blood-spurting deaths, highly choreographed one-on-one punch-ups… It takes a bit of time to get going in this regard, too concerned with trying to give us a plot where we don’t need one and shadows of character development where we don’t want it, but when it kicks in it’s entertainingly bombastic. Particular stand-outs include a plane-based attack on a pier and the crazy climax, an everyone-on-everyone brawl that features a whole building exploding as just one small part.

And in traditional violent action movie style, it was even cut for UK cinemas. How thoughtful. Said edit was two seconds to get a 15; the BD (and DVD? I don’t know) is uncut. The edited moment was a stabbing, of which there are many, many examples in the film; but this one was deemed sufficiently worse than the others. Can’t say I blame the distributor making that cut — a tiny omission no one would notice, which gains three years’ worth of action-hungry teens with plentiful disposable income, your precise target market.

The Expendables, with its name-packed cast and throwback values, aims to be the action movie to end all action movies. It’s not quite that, but for those who enjoy the genre it ticks enough of the right boxes. It’s not reinventing the wheel, it’s not modern or cutting edge, but I don’t think it was ever truly aiming to be. It’s straightforward brain-in-neutral entertainment for Blokes, and as that it delivers suitably.

The UK TV premiere of The Expendables is on Channel 5 tonight at 9pm. It’s repeated on Wednesday 12th at 10pm.

This review is part of the 100 Films Advent Calendar 2012. Read more here.

Predators (2010)

Posted on December 8, 2012 by badblokebob

It’s two-and-a-half years since this was released? Never! If it didn’t say so on multiple websites, I’d never believe it. Where does the time go?!

But anyway…

Predators is writer-director-producer-editor-composer-etc Robert Rodriguez’s attempt to relaunch the Predator franchise, after the mediocre Predator 2 killed it in 1990 and the utterly appalling Aliens vs Predator 2 killed it again in 2007. Based on the fact we’re two years on and there’s been no word of a sequel, I guess he didn’t succeed. Which is a shame, because the original film is fun action/sci-fi entertainment and this is very much in its spirit.

Based on a screenplay Rodriguez wrote in the mid ’90s (deemed too expensive at the time, and since re-written thanks to other films doing some of the stuff in it (chiefly Avatar, apparently)), Predators sees a bunch of unconnected people dropped into a mysterious jungle. All of them have some skill in the field of death-dealing — except, that is, for a doctor — and most are armed to the teeth. Where are they? Why are they there? And what’s that coming after them?

I’ve left my plot description vaguer than most you’ll find, including on the film’s own DVD/BD releases, because the more you know the more the early part of the movie drags. Most blurbs give away the revelations contained within the first act, which makes it an almost gratingly slow start. I reckon it would probably work well in isolation, but I’m not sure how many people are going to see this without having heard more of the premise than I’ve let on. When you know where it’s going, it seems to plod a little; equally, if all you know is that a group of people face a gang of Predators in a jungle then it works fine (it still takes the aliens a while to show up, but then so does the original).

It’s a similar story elsewhere in the film. If you haven’t already accurately guessed what the ‘twist’ is with the doctor just from me even mentioning him, then I’ll be surprised. You may also be aware that Laurence Fishburne is in the film — he’s in the trailer and, naturally, one of the top-billed names. If you weren’t aware, sorry; but if you are (as, indeed, you now are), then his lack of appearance early on will likely clue you in to the circumstance under which he’ll be found. But if you’re not expecting him, that’s all fine and dandy. But now you are. Sorry.

In fairness, the story does manage to pull out a few mysteries. There’s a fair share of action sequences too, naturally, but it’s not an entirely stock plot merely peppered with gunfights. Rodriguez and co have made the effort to push the mythology in new directions; ones which seem to build naturally out of other Predator media, even though those aren’t specifically mentioned. Indeed, although there’s a direct reference to the original film (plus a smattering of callbacks in dialogue), the production team were told to avoid looking at the other films, games and comics for inspiration. You’ve no need to suffer anything else to enjoy this. Indeed, it works even without seeing the original film.

In the special features Rodriguez comments that the film could function even if the Predators didn’t turn up, because you’ve got a gang of characters who might be quite happy to turn on each other if need arose. There’s nothing revelatory amongst the gang of humans, but they’re more characterised than the simple canon fodder of the original film, and the relative dearth of big names will keep you guessing as to the order of their inevitable dispatch.

The main draw is still the action, which is suitably exciting on the whole. Best of all is a sword fight between a Yakuza and a Predator. Who’d’ve thought of engaging a Predator in a sword fight, eh? I love a sword fight, and while this is of course an atypical example, it shows the film’s level of creativeness with its inherited elements. It’s also a beautifully shot segment, making it one of the stand-out parts of the film.

Most of the direction is as good, though I have to mention it because of one unfortunate trope it develops: there’s an awful lot of lingering shots of the cast Looking At Something behind the camera, before we get to see it. Once you notice this — and you may well, like me, notice it pretty early on — it quickly becomes unintentionally comical, because it just. Keeps. Happening. And even when you think it’s gone, it makes a last-minute resurgence at an inopportune moment. I’m certain this wasn’t a deliberate comic device — it was probably employed to add tension and mystery and all that — but, for me, it just became a bit of a joke.

Then there’s the awful atmosphere-ruining end credits song. Honest to God, there’s weird artistic flourishes, and there’s immediately trashing the mood you’ve just strived to create. I know why it’s there — it’s another reference to the original — but it’s a glaring clash of styles that shatters the very particular ending the film has. On the commentary, Rodriguez asserts that it “deflates the tension in a great fun way.” Hm. Hmmm. What a misstep.

And the ending itself… is it sequel bait? It’s not as bad as Prometheus — an unintentionally resonant parallel given the franchises’ shared history, but not an inappropriate comparison. But where Ridley Scott’s confusing picture leaves glaring unanswered questions that demand a Part 2, Predators’ conclusion is both open-ended but also somehow fitting. Which is lucky, because I don’t think a follow-up is forthcoming.

For all the criticism, or gentle ribbing, I’ve levelled at the film throughout this review, it’s an enjoyable experience. There’s nothing deep or meaningful, and nothing that will enliven or revolutionise the genre, but as a sci-fi/action movie it’s at least as good as its blokey-classic predecessor.

The UK TV premiere of Predators is on Channel 4 tonight at 9pm.

This review is part of the 100 Films Advent Calendar 2012. Read more here.

M – British version (1931/1932)

Posted on December 7, 2012 by badblokebob

2012 #58a
Fritz Lang | 93 mins | Blu-ray | 4:3 | Germany & UK / English

Let’s establish one thing right away: this is unquestionably an inferior version of Fritz Lang’s masterpiece, M. Never mind that it’s an old, unrestored, thoroughly battered print; it’s the conscious changes that — unavoidably — lessen the film.

1) Cuts. It’s several minutes shorter than even the restored German version (which in itself is seven minutes shorter than Lang’s original cut).

2) A re-cut ending that attempts some kind of jollity: instead of Frau Beckmann’s tearful warning outside the court, we get a reprise of the opening shot of children playing. The message is less “watch out for your kids!”, more “childhood saved!”

3) Some moments have been re-shot to replace German text with English. On occasion this barely matters (a close up of a newspaper article, for example, or the murderer’s letter to the papers), but on others it ruins Lang’s original work, the worst offender being the shadow falling across the “Missing” poster near the start. Alternatively, in Masters of Cinema’s accompanying booklet Robert Fischer notes that these text changes also provide us with “the only instance where [the British version] comes up with a genuinely creative idea worthy of the original”.

4) It’s mostly dubbed into English. The bits that aren’t have been re-shot. Primarily, there’s a phone call between the police commissioner and the minister, which is really quite poorly performed — watch out for an unintentionally comical bit with the wrong end of a pencil. These two actors are also edited into another scene, a large meeting which their characters attend, and it’s glaringly obvious where Lang’s work begins and ends and the basically-shot bits (flatter angles, simplistic sets) have been dropped in. The director of the English re-shoots isn’t specifically credited, but it certainly wasn’t Lang: Fischer’s examination of M’s export versions informs us that it was the localised version’s “Supervisor”, Charles Barnett.

Despite this, the British version isn’t without merit. After all, much of Lang’s work survives the localisation process, meaning his quality and skill still shines through, and there’s that one re-shot text bit. But then, why bother? You can watch the original and get all of it.

No, the only thing worth watching for (other than pure curiosity) is a re-shot trial scene featuring Peter Lorre’s first performance in English. It’s a typically great turn from Lorre; not quite of the same calibre as the German original, but a worthy alternative.

There’s no way anyone would reasonably recommend this variation of M over the original, but it does hold interest as a curio. It may leave one wondering how and why this practice of exporting films — where multiple versions in different languages were shot at the same time, rather than dubbing/subtitling later — died out. Cost, I imagine. Despite producing interesting asides like this, it’s probably a good thing it did.

My review of the original version of M can be read here.

This review is part of the 100 Films Advent Calendar 2012. Read more here.

The Sum of All Fears (2002)

Posted on December 6, 2012 by badblokebob

2012 #22
Phil Alden Robinson | 119 mins | TV | 2.35:1 | USA & Germany / English | 12 / PG-13

Paramount had a burgeoning franchise on their hands in the early ’90s with adaptations of Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan novels. He first appears in The Hunt for Red October, where Alec Baldwin’s incarnation of the hero is thoroughly overshadowed by Sean Connery. Then Harrison Ford took over starring duties for a pair of successful follow-ups, Patriot Games and Clear and Present Danger. Why they didn’t lead to more, my quick look on IMDb and Wikipedia doesn’t tell.

Fast forward almost a decade to the early ’00s, and Paramount tried to re-launch their potentially-lucrative IP with a beginning-of-his-career younger version of Ryan (all the better to appeal to the young-skewing demographic who by then attended cinemas most), with man-of-the-moment Ben Affleck as the lead. Despite some financial success (nearly $200m worldwide from a budget of $68m), the critics weren’t impressed, and it seems they were listened to. Incidentally, another ten years on, they’re about to try the exact same thing again, with Star Trek’s Chris Pine the man-of-the-moment playing a young Ryan. Better luck this time, chaps.

But I digress — what of The Sum of All Fears? Well, actually, it’s a solid little thriller. A bit plodding at times, but engrossing enough. It doesn’t always adhere to believability, and it’s occasionally unclear what sort of timescale it’s all taking place in, but if you let that wash over you it’s fine. There’s A Big Twist in the middle that would easily have been one of the best bits about the film, had they not blown it in the trailers. Even still, it’s a bit audacious and I still didn’t quite believe it would happen until it did.

Ben Affleck is Ben Affleck, which means a lot of people won’t like him but he’s OK. Morgan Freeman brings instant gravitas to his role, though it’s not his most likeable or memorable part.

I can see why this failed to launch a new franchise. For one thing, a storyline about a terrorist attack on US soil coming less than a year after 9/11 was always going to be tricky. Even without that though, it’s a thrillery-thriller (as opposed to an action-thriller) made at a time when mass audiences were making a move to kids/family-aimed franchises as the main revenue stream for cinemas and Hollywood studios. There’s something in that about the general dumbing down of blockbuster entertainment and the increasing (and ongoing) infantilisation of mainstream American cinema, but The Sum of All Fears isn’t the greatest rebuttal, so it’s a case best left for elsewhere.

As I’ve said on films like this before — and, I suppose, as is indicated by my three-star rating — if you like this kind of film then The Sum of All Fears makes for an adequately entertaining two hours. Otherwise, it’s nothing special.

This review is part of the 100 Films Advent Calendar 2012. Read more here.

Chatroom (2010)

Posted on December 5, 2012 by badblokebob

2012 #36
Hideo Nakata | 94 mins | TV | 1.85:1 | UK / English | 15 / R

Chatroom is born of — or, at least, partly formed around — trying to find a viable way of depicting the world of online chatrooms on film. Putting on film this world it As It Really Is — people sat at a computer typing at each other — might work well enough for a single scene in Closer, say, but who would want an entire feature of people sat before a glowing screen, fingers tapping, while we have to read all the ‘dialogue’? Chatroom is one possible solution.

I don’t imagine it was the film’s sole goal — presumably presenting the online world in a filmic (or, as it originated as a play, stage-friendly) way was a necessary aside for wanting to set a story in that world. Sadly, the actual tale being told isn’t up to all that much.

To take those two ideas that way round, then, Japanese horror director Hideo Nakata (Ring, Ring 2, The Ring 2) presents the world of chatrooms as a corridor of literal rooms, which — if you’re going for the metaphorical route — is possibly the best way to express online chatrooms on screen. Once in the rooms, people talk — as you would online, except with your voice instead of your fingers. The genuine intimacy and friendship that develops between the characters in this environment is also truthful. There have been many reviews that are completely dismissive of this facet of the film, leaving me to wonder if they were written by people who haven’t used or experienced such things. It’s a shame, then, that the film’s degeneration into a thriller hides the arguably-worthwhile potential to explain to such people what that online world can be like for people/kids using it.

For all the understanding of the online world, the liberal use of tech occasionally gets in the way. Apparently lead-character William is an expert at hacking, Photoshopping, and all kinds of other computer jiggery-pokery… when the plot wants him to be. There’s nothing to suggest he isn’t capable of all that, and yet it doesn’t quite gel that he is. It seems to be aiming it at an audience ignorant of how computers work, in that William is defined as “a character who is good with computers”, which therefore translates as “a character who can Do Anything with a computer”. It doesn’t hang together.

Like, in many respects, the plot. This is why I wonder which came first, story or concept, because while the latter is fully realised, the former is scrappier. Early subplots don’t really go anywhere, like the story’s searching around for where it wants to explore. The final act collapses into an aimless runaround as it attempts to tack on some kind of exciting thriller-esque climax. Despite a strong-ish start, perhaps the whole second half of the film is a wobbly mess; not directionless exactly, because by then it does know broadly where it’s going, but it doesn’t do much to suggest to the viewer that it has a real goal in mind. Character motivations and relationships feel as if they’ve not been fully thought out, or at least not fully brought together on screen. Some threads take inexplicable jumps; others aren’t adequately explained or justified. Occasionally it’s Nakata’s direction that overdoes things, for instance laying the soppy “this bit is emotional” music on thick when Matthew Beard’s performance could easily carry a particular sequence.

The cast is populated by young up-and-comers, some of whom have very much up-and-come since. As the initially enigmatic William, Aaron Johnson (Nowhere Boy, Kick-Ass) isn’t bad, though he’s done no favours by the role. There’s the makings of an interesting character here, but it doesn’t coalesce into something recognisable as a real human being. Imogen Poots (28 Weeks Later, Centurion, etc etc) and Hannah Murray (the original Skins cast) discarded in supporting roles. Daniel Kaluuya (also original-flavour Skins, plus Black Mirror episode two) fares marginally better, though again his character and storyline is woefully underdeveloped.

The aforementioned Matthew Beard, perhaps the least recognisable cast member (his CV shows lots of stuff, just nothing with a significant part for him), gets the best of it. His character is the closest to having a believable arc, to even having credible motivations and actions. The scene-with-too-much-music should hopefully ensure he wins some better roles in the future, though, as that link shows, there’s nothing much yet.

Chatroom is an experiment in presenting an intrinsically unfilmic world in a way that works on screen. It does a fair job of that, though it feels too idiosyncratic to become The Way It’s Done. Sadly, the story it’s married to isn’t as competent. While something like that bears telling — especially as we see increasing reports of online abuse and the establishment struggling with how to police and prosecute it — this isn’t the ideal form. If cinema is (at times, of course) meant to reflect the world we live in, this is very much the world a massive (and ever-growing) number of people now live in. Hopefully Chatroom won’t put someone off trying again sometime.

This review is part of the 100 Films Advent Calendar 2012. Read more here.

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Monthly Archives: December 2012

Fantastic Four (2005)

The Lincoln Lawyer (2011)

Drive Angry (2011)

Tiny Furniture (2010)

The Call of Cthulhu (2005)

The Expendables (2010)

Predators (2010)

M – British version (1931/1932)

The Sum of All Fears (2002)

Chatroom (2010)