Juno (2007)

Posted on March 5, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #25
Jason Reitman | 92 mins | DVD | 12 / PG-13

This review contains minor spoilers.

Juno followed in the footsteps of films like Sideways and Little Miss Sunshine to be the token Little Indie That Could among 2008’s Best Picture nominees. It was also the highest-grossing film on the list, no doubt thanks to America’s abundant Christians thinking it was all about an anti-abortion message. I’m sure these conflicting facts (the indie-ness and top-grosser, not the Christian thing) say more about the Oscars’ nominating form in the past decade than they do about Juno.

Fortunately, there’s enough to Juno to allow it stand up for itself. The most discussed aspect is Diablo Cody’s screenplay, with its idiosyncratic slang-laden dialogue and accusations that every character speaks the same. The first is true, the latter is rubbish, and one has to wonder if whoever thinks it watched beyond the first ten minutes. Most of the film’s teenage characters speak similarly… in that they use the same bits of slang, have similar speech patterns, employ a similar sense of humour — you know, like groups of teenagers tend to. Their related adults speak broadly similarly, but also differently; the higher-class couple Juno chooses to adopt her baby to speak differently again — but none are pathetically “I am trying to sound different”-different like you can find in weak writing. It’s just natural. I struggle to see how anyone can honestly say that all the characters “speak the same” in a way that isn’t true to life. Perhaps Cody has generously made Juno and her fellow teens wittier and quicker than the real-life majority, but this is a scripted drama and that’s what happens to your hero characters.

Cody’s dialogue, and what the cast do with it, are the film’s standout aspects. It’s quite a wordy screenplay, so it’s good that it’s a joy to listen to. The realistic overuse of slang by some characters occasionally greats, but the plentiful laugh-out-loud beats more than make up for it. The “I wish I’d say that” quality in some of Juno’s responses to familiar situations quickly make her an identifiable, memorable and loveable character, expertly played by Ellen Page — lead roles like this and Hard Candy show she’s one to watch, and add another mark against X-Men 3 for wasting her talents on such an insignificant (in the film) part.

Every supporting part is equally pitch-perfect: J.K. Simmons’ endlessly supportive father; Allison Janney’s stepmom, granted a gift of a rant at an ultrasound operator; Jennifer Garner’s earnest, desperate wannabe-mother; Olivia Thirlby’s teacher-loving best friend. Jason Bateman redeems himself in my eyes from his not-Marc-Warren turn in State of Play, while my pre-judgement of Michael Cera (Superbad? Year One? They sound dreadful) is half erased by being good as an appropriate-but-still-niggling character (Mr MacGuff and Leah summarise it best: “I didn’t think he had it in him.” “I know, right?”)

The film’s success in America is slightly baffling, which is why I merrily attribute it to Juno considering an abortion and then turning away. There’s underage sex, swearing, numerous displays of teen independence, divorce, love of rock music and horror films… All that’s missing from a Middle American Mom’s worst nightmare is drugs (there’s no violence either, but we know them there yankees love a bit of that). The whole thing worries the boundaries of its 12 certificate, I’m sure (being a recent film, the BBFC explain/justify), not that such things affect its quality as a film.

The backlash against Cody’s screenplay had me all prepared to find Juno a samey, wannabe-cool and lacking experience, but it isn’t. It’s consistently funny, occasionally moving, and only infrequently irritating (usually when it comes across as stereotypically indie). As the comedy-indie entry in the Academy’s 2008 choices, its worthy of its predecessors, and I consider that praise indeed.

The Man Who Sued God (2001)

Posted on March 3, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #3
Mark Joffe | 97 mins | TV | 15

I always assumed this was British, probably because it stars Billy Connolly and has a suitably quirky premise — one can see it fitting in with the school of British comedy that’s brought us The Full Monty, Saving Grace, Kinky Boots and the like. But no: it’s actually very much Australian, which, considering its suitably quirky premise and that it stars Billy Connolly, isn’t that surprising either. And director Mark Joffe’s best-known/most-seen other work must be the first 10 episodes (ever) of Neighbours, which just cements the Anglo-Antipodean relation.

Country-of-origin is immaterial though, and what’s important is that The Man Who Sued God is funny, and righteous, and silly, and fantastical — in an “oh, if only it were true!” way — because in reality any such case would likely be laughed out of court and the insurance companies allowed to continue with their sorry and disreputable business. And some of these things which meant I loved it — the “only in a film” moral victories, the sillification of the church(es), and so on — will mean others hate it, or at least view it as a mediocre effort.

There’s a place for realist films — those that remind us of the constant victory of big nasty corporations, or obey the likelihood of the unjust justice system, and so on — but there’s also a place for the more life-affirming, the stories where the impossible happens and the ‘little man’ with a good point to make happens to encounter a like-minded system that means he can ultimately win through.

And putting the church in a position where their only sensible defence is to prove God doesn’t exist is always going to make for a good story.

Exiled (2006)

Posted on February 25, 2010 by badblokebob

aka Fong juk

2009 #68
Johnnie To | 104 mins | TV* | 15 / R

There are times when one feels under-qualified to review a film in a way that gives it its due. This happens particularly frequently when one’s blog covers first-time viewings of films that are often classics/significant/beloved/etc. My appreciation for Exiled has been increased by two other, more qualified, reviews: one from DVD Times, the other from Heroes of the East.

Having never seen a Johnnie To film and not being sure quite what to expect — either from the director or from what appeared to be a gangster/action film being shown on arts-centric BBC Four — my first reactions to Exiled were a little muddled. Having pointed you in the direction of those other reviews — which I should say I agree with, in the sense that they’ve changed my perspective on the film and leave me with a desire to see it again in light of their comments — I’ve decided that, instead of my own review that tries to conglomerate my initial thoughts with the additional perspective I’ve since gained (and which is best presented in those other articles), I’ll once again turn my notes into sentences and offer it up for your consideration.

The length of the sentences and clauses in the above paragraph suggest I’ve read too many academic essays in the last 24 hours, so I’ll just clarify: What follows are, essentially, my notes after first viewing. I’m not wholly in agreement with some of it anymore; with the exception, of course, of the score.

Exiled features several impressive action scenes. They’re Leone-like in the way there’s often an extended pause, the threat of violence hanging in the air — then a sudden burst, over quickly. But within this style there’s a lot of visual flair — unlike Leone, slow motion makes the moments last minutes, underlined by the entire climatic shoot-out taking place in the time it takes for a can of Red Bull to be kicked in the air and drop back down. As many a teenage boy watching would no doubt say, “cool!”

Elsewhere in the coolness stakes, Anthony Wong owns the sunglasses-and-trenchcoat look, appearing as a cross between a middle-aged businessman and a stylish hitman. Francis Ng looks equally cool, but in a more ‘traditional’ way. Quite what the ‘cool’ aesthetic does for the film/story/characters I’m not sure, other than increase its accessibility.

Dialogue is kept to a minimum, appropriately. Whole character arcs and motivations pass by without a word of explanation, allowing the viewer to fill in the gaps. It works just fine — there’s no need to spell them out, and they’re not so obscured as to be baffling. There’s an audacious twist around halfway through, which removes the apparent point of the plot and suggests it’s all really about something other than the obvious. [This in itself should be a sign that a lot of what follows in my comments is rubbish…]

Is the story just an excuse to link the spectacle of action? [This, I think, is where my notes really lose the plot.] Yes and no. The story is hardly revelatory, nor is there a great deal of character exploration (or any, in most cases) to suggest To is aiming for a different angle on a familiar tale. But while the action set pieces are exciting and visually engaging, they’re not so unusual as to suggest someone conceived of them and then a story to connect the dots. Is it style over substance? [No.] Again, to an extent. I suppose there’s not a great deal of substance, and there is quite a bit of style; though, again, the latter isn’t as show-off-y as style-over-substance films usually are.

Alternatively, I suppose the plot is quite shallow [it isn’t really]: even things that suggest stories and development — such as Boss Fay weighing in on Boss Keung’s territory — don’t really develop into much, instead becoming a backdrop for who’s shooting at who when.

Whatever it is, it’s entertaining. Especially if you like people shooting at each other in cool ways and gangster-based thrillersome plots.

Note the dramatic device of the photos [which, I think, in themselves disprove my ponderings that the film lacks depth]: the first shows the characters when young, at the beginning of their ‘career’; the second is at the start of this story, effectively being the midpoint/bulk of said ‘career’; and the last one is at death, the end of this ‘career’ — though it’s the same group in each, they’ve all changed between every photo, even the last two taken just days apart. It’s a relatively subtle but effective motif.

So much for my unadulterated notes. Anyway:

Director Johnnie To’s 2012 film Drug War is on Film4 tonight, Thursday 15th January 2015, at 1:15am.

* BBC Four showed this in 16:9, but the OAR is 2.35:1 — and it showed, with compositions often looking cropped. Shame. ^

Deja Vu (2006)

Posted on February 23, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #24
Tony Scott | 121 mins | DVD | 12 / PG-13

This review contains spoilers.

Denzel Washington and Tony Scott have now served as star and director (respectively, as if you didn’t know) on four films, with a fifth on the way. As director-star relationships go it’s hardly Scorsese-De Niro or Burton-Depp, but I’m quite a fan of Man on Fire and I remember Crimson Tide being pretty good, so one can’t complain. (This whole “regular director-star relationship” thing had higher significance in my head. Anyway…)

Deja Vu is about a terrorist attack that Washington’s character, an official from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (a natural combination only in America; known as the semi-logical AFT for short), isn’t really investigating. But he is a bit, because otherwise the story wouldn’t get started. Once it does, he gets recruited by Val Kilmer to the FBI team that are actually investigating the disaster, and they reveal a mysterious bit of kit to him… which some other review has probably already spoiled for you, so I will too: they can see precisely 4 days and 6 hours into the past.

How can they do this? Well, somewhat surprisingly, screenwriters Bill Marsilii and Terry Rossio (and, one must suspect by extension, Ted Elliott) have bothered to string together a selection of scientific concepts you may have heard of in order to explain it. Essentially, it’s an accidentally-created wormhole. It has loads of rules. I won’t explain them. The most significant is, you can’t send stuff back through it; you can’t change the past. And by “rule” I mean “thing set up to add dramatic tension when it comes time to contradict it in the third act”.

Deja Vu’s timey-wimey plot is quite fun, in some ways. Massively over-complicated — no one will blame you for switching off as the “how it’s done” technobabble washes over you; if you just accept this is all possible within the confines of the movie’s universe, there’s enough investigative thrills to sustain proceedings — but, if one does pay attention, a lot of it makes sense. Well, enough sense. It becomes a bit unravelled toward the end, unless you choose to believe this even more complicated theory, which uses a scant array of clues from the film — plus the desire/need to explain the plot logically — to come up with a cohesive theory that covers all kinds of stuff happening before the film even begins.

…so, I was meant to be explaining why it’s fun. Well, there’s a car ‘chase’ that takes place in both the past and present simultaneously, allowing Scott to indulge in some of his usual cars-flipping-for-no-reason show-off-y-ness (who doesn’t love a car flipping? Especially if it then explodes!) There’s also lots of narrative hoop-jumping, with plenty of clues littered through the first two acts that are paid off in the third. One of the film’s saving graces is that Scott, Marsilii and Rossio don’t spell most of these out for us — Washington doesn’t get up and say, “oh, that explains how the ambulance got here and then the building exploded and he must’ve cut your fingers off because you scratched him and [so on through numerous other minor semi-relevant clues]”; the audience are allowed to think all of this for themselves. Which is nice, because it’s obvious, but blockbusters too often just state the obvious these days. But I suppose when your central conceit needs explaining several times in lengthy dialogue scenes you assume the audience will be paying enough attention to catch the regular complications of standard film-narrative construction.

Deja Vu is kinda nonsense, then, albeit nonsense that some people have put a lot of thought into trying to explain. In spite of this, I quite enjoyed it — Washington is always likeable, the rest of the cast are up to the task of arranging themselves around him, and the connect-the-dots narrative is suitably engrossing. Factor in that Scott has toned down the visual trickery he pushed to eyeball-melting extremes in Man on Fire and Domino, and you find a half-decent sci-fi-ish thriller-blockbuster

It’s also the second film I watched in as many days featuring Friends’ Adam Goldberg playing the character he always plays in a story decisively set in New Orleans. Déjà vu indeed.

BBC One have the UK TV premiere of Deja Vu tonight at 10:35pm.

Despite the sustained objections of my spellchecker, this film is not called Déjà Vu (on screen). I know, I’m a pedant.

Frankenstein (2004)

Posted on February 22, 2010 by badblokebob

aka Dean Koontz’s Frankenstein

2010 #22
Marcus Nispel | 84 mins | DVD | 18

First, a little note on that aka: technically — and, I believe, legally — no such title is attached to this project. However, the initial idea was developed by Koontz and, after he left the project, adapted into his Dean Koontz’s Frankenstein series of novels. Despite the ‘creative disagreement’ (or whatever they chose to call it) that led him to walk away, the film retains significant similarities to the first book. More on these in a moment.

So, this version of Frankenstein is a made-for-TV movie/series pilot (that’s taken six years to find its way to British TV, apparently — in case you didn’t know, the series wasn’t picked up). According to the blurb on my DVD, it’s a “contemporary retelling of Mary Shelley’s gothic horror classic”. I guess no one in the publicity department actually watched it. In actuality it’s more a sequel to Shelley’s novel: Dr Frankenstein has somehow survived to the modern day and emigrated to New Orleans, where he continues his experiments, while his original monster, now going by the name Deucalion, has tracked him down in the name of justice. Or something. Maybe they should’ve just started from scratch… then again, look how that worked out.

Thanks to Koontz leaving the project midway through its conception, it’s difficult to accurately explain the relationship between the novel and the film. This isn’t an adaptation, certainly, but nor is the novel a mere novelization. Most of the official comment on the novel/film relationship is along the lines of this, taken from the current iteration of the book series’ Wikipedia entry: “Koontz withdrew from the project over creative differences with the network, and the production continued in a different direction with similar characters and a modified plot.” Perhaps this is what Koontz would like viewers/readers to believe: that the novels are his undiluted vision, while the film most certainly is not. Well, don’t believe him.

Watching the film having read the book (a couple of years ago), this feels like a faithful adaptation. It comes with the usual caveats of condensing a c.400-page novel into a sub-90-minute film — certain elements are foreshortened, others tweaked, others abandoned — but in terms of the primary plot, the characters and their actions, it’s all incredibly close to the series’ first novel. I hesitate to say “exactly the same” when I’ve not read it for years, but it wouldn’t surprise me if whole scenes and dialogue exchanges match perfectly.

What this also means is that the film suffers from some of the novel’s flaws, when taken as a standalone work. Dr Frankenstein — now Dr Helios, for what it’s worth — is introduced but remains a background figure, only peripherally connected to this episode’s serial killer plot. In this its intentions as a pilot couldn’t be clearer, and with an ending that’s part cliffhanger, part “the story continues”, it’s as clear as in the novel that this is far from over. Other than there not being a TV series or any sequels, that is. (Though if you want to know what happens, there are already two further novels — and three more planned — that continue the story.)

The film itself isn’t badly produced. Marcus Nispel’s direction seems heavily influenced by Se7en, all dark and grainy and very, very brown. Even the title sequence, with its juddery extreme close-ups and pulsating grungy soundtrack, feels borrowed from Fincher’s masterpiece. The cast are fine: Michael Madsen and Adam Goldberg play the same parts they always play, Parkey Posey leads well enough, and as Deucalion, Vincent Perez is… adequate. Thomas Kretschmann’s Helios is the closest the film comes to an outstanding performance; knowing the events of books two and three, one almost longs for sequels to see Kretschmann’s cooly dominant Helios disintegrate as Everything Goes Wrong.

All things considered, Frankenstein is probably best viewed as a compromised curiosity. It’s certainly not a wholly satisfying experience in itself, but those interested in Koontz’s series may find it a nice way to test the waters without having to plough through a whole novel, while those who have read the novel may find it interesting to see one part of the story committed to film. Or, of course, they may find it irritating that it’s not how they imagined. I fall into that middle category; those with no interest in the books or who hold them too dearly may wish to knock a star off this score.

Five have the UK TV premiere of Frankenstein tonight at 11:25pm.

Wallander: The Secret (2006)

Posted on February 14, 2010 by badblokebob

aka Mankell’s Wallander: Hemligheten

2010 #12
Stephan Apelgren | 90 mins | TV | 15

The third theatrical release to star Krister Henriksson as Henning Mankell’s detective is the thirteenth and final episode in the first series. It has a suitably Season Finale feel to it — “this time it’s personal” and all that — but also subtly constructs itself to work as the standalone piece necessary for a theatrical release schedule that skipped six whole episodes.

As with Mastermind (the sixth episode / second film), there’s no need to have seen any of the series to follow things. Though the characters aren’t introduced from scratch, there’s no explicit reference to any on-going plots — any that are relevant are re-established in a way that isn’t intrusive. A knowledge of what happened in the ten films not chosen for cinematic release is inessential, then, but it does deepen the viewer’s understanding of events to some degree: Linda and Stefan’s relationship was played out more fully across the whole series, for example, while Stefan’s suspension has been a gradual slide rather than an almost sudden revelation.

Indeed, while the emotional pay-offs are sufficiently handled within the film itself — for one, it centres on an issue that it’s hard to not find affecting (which, if I spell out, is sure to give away a revelation or two) — getting to know the characters over the 18 preceding hours surely adds a dimension to the effect the story, its revelations and its twists can have on the viewer. Think, for example, of Serenity: I know people who saw that film cold who found the deaths emotional, but not to the same degree as those who experienced the film on the back of 10 hours (and more, with repeated viewings) getting to know and love those characters. I’m not saying Wallander at any point achieves the giddy heights of Firefly and Serenity, mind you, but the theory is the same.

The Secret‘s own plot is suitably high-stakes, if not quite as filmic as the one in Mastermind. Making it personal for one of the team is always a good way to make A Bigger Story, and there are some particularly large revelations and twists involved here. Ola Rapace is finally given something significant to do besides be a bit grumpy, and he excels in an understated fashion — even his moodiness now has good meaning. None of the reasons for this shall I spoil for those yet to discover the series, but events here will undoubtedly have a lasting impact — though how much this will be felt in the forthcoming second series (which, I understand, only includes one theatrical release) remains to be seen. In particular, the tragic suicide of Johanna Sällström, who plays Linda Wallander, must surely hang over the new episodes to some degree.

It’s arguable how fully the issue behind the story is explored, as the film gets rather caught up in explaining its own conceits — flashbacks disguised as asides to the current action, for example — and complex plotting — when past relations between characters come out, there are some hoops to be jumped through so that it all makes sense. I wouldn’t go so far as to say any of this is poorly handled, but one wonders if screenwriter Stefan Ahnhem has ultimately bitten off more than he can comfortably chew. The later twists and complexities occasionally overshadow the depressingly grounded earlier events.

Unfortunately, the cinematography — though a small step up from the ‘regular’ episodes — also isn’t quite as filmic as in Mastermind. This one feels more like a TV episode granted an upgrade, whereas Mastermind was closer to ‘the real thing’ of a film — as much as that can be defined and/or justified these days, anyway. One might suppose this leaves more room for the actors — in particular Rapace, as already mentioned, but also Sällström — though I’m not convinced it makes a huge difference.

Some of these are minor points, perhaps, but a number of factors add up to mean The Secret doesn’t feel quite as distinctive as Mastermind. Perhaps I’m holding it to ill-conceived criteria — as the culmination of the series, it has several things going for it — but I remain unconvinced that it tackled the subject as well as it could have.

The ‘Best Pictures’ of the Noughties

Posted on February 1, 2010 by badblokebob

With 2010’s Oscar nominees due to be announced tomorrow sometime (I believe it’s “OMG why so early?!” if you’re in the States and “during the day” in Blighty’s time zone, but that’s all I know), I thought I’d have a look back at how I’ve done seeing the Best Picture nominees from the noughties. Feel free to play along. (Not that I’m actually going to list them.)

Such a task therefore includes 2000’s nominations… all of which are, of course, technically from the last decade… but tish, that’s enough of technicalities! This is end-of-the-decade-lists year, goddamit, and I will have my Oscar Best Pictures List! So ner.

Things don’t get off to an auspicious start unfortunately: despite having a whole 10 years to catch them, I’ve still only seen three of 2000’s nominations — and one of those was only a bit over a year ago. Maybe I will start counting from 2001’s lot after all…

Except that, whatever tomorrow’s nods bring, I’m not likely to have seen many of them, even with that potentially awkward increase to 10 nominees (10×5 is such a neater equation than 9×5+1×10, somehow. Anyway…) Taking RopeofSilicon’s prediction list as an indicator because, well, it’s the only one I’ve stumbled across, I’ve seen a measly two of the top ten… and it only goes up to three if you broaden it to his top 21. Whatever comes about tomorrow, I won’t’ve seen many. I need to get to the cinema more.

So back to the ‘real’ noughties, then. (Still with me? Oh, someone is! I’ll try to speed this up anyway…)

I’ve seen all the films from the 2001, 2006 and 2007 awards. I even saw four of 2006’s in the cinema (gasp!) When I finally get round to watching my DVD of Juno, 2008 will join that list (if anyone happens to be wondering why reviews of There Will Be Blood and No Country For Old Men are now over a year late… well, that’s why).

There are, in total, 14 nominees I’ve not seen — including two winners. Neither A Beautiful Mind nor Million Dollar Baby have inspired me enough to go out of my way to see them, particularly as the former especially seems to get lumped in with the likes of Shakespeare in Love in the annals of less-than-deserving winners. Hey, Eastwood’s effort is on TV this week — twice on the same night, even — so maybe I’ll finally sit down with it.

The full 14 I’ve not seen are:

2000: The Cider House Rules, The Insider. 2002: A Beautiful Mind, In the Bedroom. 2003: The Hours, The Pianist. 2004: Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, Seabiscuit. 2005: Million Dollar Baby. 2008: Juno. 2009: Frost/Nixon, Milk, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, The Reader.

And I have three of them on DVD too…

There we have it, anyway. As a ‘Film Fan’ it feels somehow wrong not to have seen all of the films considered to be The Very Best Of That Year at the highest-profile, most-prestigious (theoretically) film awards do. But — as that “(theoretically)” shows and as we all really know — the Oscars are far from the be-all-and-end-all of what are genuinely the best films of any given year (though I’m sure there must be some where they actually got it right). Besides, it’s all a matter of opinion anyway, making any such list wholly arbitrary.

Still, I do like a good list, and this one has 14 more things to tick off it. Maybe I’ll have got there by 2020…

2015 update:

Halfway to 2020, and how have I got on? Well, I’ve since seen five of the 14. That’s not that good, is it? Anyway, here are my reviews of those five:

A Beautiful Mind

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World

Million Dollar Baby

Juno

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Ernst Lubitsch in Berlin: From Schönhauser Allee to Hollywood (2006)

Posted on January 30, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #10
Robert Fischer | 109 mins | DVD

Part biography, part making-of, part analytical retrospective, Robert Fischer’s documentary does what it says on the tin: tells the story of the life and work of actor/director Ernst Lubitsch from his formative years, living on Schönhauser Allee in Berlin, to when he made the move to America in the early 1920s.

Fischer devotes a large amount of time to Lubitsch’s early years — the life he had growing up, his years as a stage actor, and how he eventually shifted into becoming a film actor — attempting not only to tell the story of his upbringing, but to draw (or leave the viewer to draw) parallels with the films Lubitsch would go on to make. A use of ‘family history’ first- and second-hand accounts and analysis from authors, critics and admirers strikes a moderate balance here, though those primarily interested in his eventual film work may find it goes on a bit too long.

A lot is also made of (or, at least, implied about) Max Reinhardt’s influence on a young Lubitsch. The film implies Reinhardt had a greater significance generally, but lacks any context about why he was such a momentous figure. In fairness the film isn’t about him, but one feels a minute or two clarifying his importance may have been warranted.

When Lubitsch’s directing career is eventually arrived upon, Fischer uses the same mix of talking heads to cover both the behind-the-scenes story of Lubitsch’s career, spanning a half-dozen or so of his more significant German works, and provide a brief analysis of how they foreshadowed (or didn’t) his future career and what they might reveal about the man and his methods. With such a broad overview no one film is covered in particularly great depth, despite the feature-length running time, though recollections from actors Emil Jannings and Henny Porten provide some film-specific focus.

Illustrated with copious clips and photographs from Lubitsch’s work, the documentary incidentally instills a desire to see more of the director’s early work. Tantalising glimpses of and stories about films such as The Eyes of the Mummy Ma, Carmen, Madame DuBarry, Kohlhiesel’s Daughter and The Loves of Pharaoh all leave one longing they were included in the box set too — though considering the six films already allotted, it’s hardly an oversight that there aren’t even more. As IMDb/Wikipedia seem to suggest none of these are lost, perhaps there’s space for a Volume Two?

Given that I found the documentary interesting, the following score might seem a tad low. Judged in the world of DVD extras, Ernst Lubitsch in Berlin would likely fare better; bumping it up to the world of ‘Proper Films’, however, reduces that somewhat. As much as anything, while I’m sure it’s of interest to the already interested, it’s not compelling enough to warrant viewing by anyone else.

Read more reviews from Lubitsch in Berlin here.

Slumdog Millionaire (2008)

Posted on January 13, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #1
Danny Boyle | 120 mins | Blu-ray | 15 / R

As we head in to this year’s awards season, I’ve finally got round to seeing last year’s big winner. It’s the Little British Film That Could, and I do feel like I’m the last person in the country to see it.

With its brightly coloured posters and home ent covers, cute child actors wheeled out at awards dos, and widespread popularity, it’s not hard to believe the pullquote someone at Fox’s marketing chose for the DVD cover: “the feel-good film of the decade”. An uplifting tale of a young no-hoper appearing on the world’s biggest game show and winning millions of rupees thanks to a generous helping of luck that means his multifarious life experiences have provided him with the exact answers to all 15 of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire’s genius-stumping questions, surely?

No.

Everything that claims it’s a “feel-good film” is being slightly disingenuous. It has a happy ending (I don’t think that counts as a spoiler for something that’s billed as “feel-good”), but until those closing moments it’s unrelentingly grim. Realistic, I’m certain, and depressingly so, but it seems designed for anything but making you feel good. The author of that chosen quotation, News of the World’s Robbie Collin, claims that he means the film is cathartic (not that I got that from his review, to be honest) — the happy and justice-bringing endings unleash goodness in the wake of the dire events that lead to them. It’s a sound theory, one that has often worked elsewhere, but not for me with Slumdog.

The problem is the ending. Director Danny Boyle’s recent films have all made a relatively poor show of their conclusion and Slumdog is no exception. True, it’s not close to the mess of Sunshine, but it doesn’t hold up in the way it ought to either. I don’t have a problem with it being reliant on guesswork — coincidence and luck form the backbone of the plot, making it permissible that our hero should win by chance rather than knowledge — but that some of its resolutions are too little too late to make one feel good about what’s already occurred, and the way it seems to bend the concept of Millionaire to fit its story somehow grates for me. I mean, is the name of the third Musketeer really a £1 million question?

But I don’t want to berate it too much because, in spite of the unconvincing finale, Slumdog Millionaire is a rather brilliant film. It’s peppered with convenience and flaws that go beyond the extent allowed in a plot based on coincidence (how come the questions come in the order the answers happened in his life? What about answers to all the questions we don’t see asked?), but these can be allowed to slide as a structural gimmick that facilitates something of an exposé of life for slum kids in India. Whether it has a documentary level of realism or not, and whether it under-sells or over-states the influence of gangsters and ease of mutilation and murder, the film’s unabashed grimness is surely closer to reality than most would dare. No wonder it nearly went straight to DVD.

The real revelation — once you get over the shock of it being, well, shocking — are the child actors. Here is where Boyle earns his Best Director awards, coaxing flawless lead performances out of a very young cast. Dev Patel may have been the focus point for plaudits, and while this isn’t undeserved, it’s the younger kids who play the same characters that arguably give the most memorable turns. They’re put through the ringer in almost every way imaginable and are never less than convincing, a feat for such young actors — so young that, as mentioned, the skill of Boyle (and, one imagines, “Indian co-director” Loveleen Tandan) is what’s really on display.

If there’s one good thing about Slumdog being billed as feel-good it’s that more people will have seen it, whereas promotion based on it being a gritty account of poverty, misery and abuse would surely have turned audiences away. And perhaps for most viewers the catharsis of a happy ending works, though the only person I’ve spoken to who felt that way is the aforementioned Mr Collin (and by “spoken to” in this instance I mean “tweeted”). The journey there certainly works though, and if by the end Slumdog is trying to both have its cake and eat it… well, I like cake.

Now there’s a quote for the DVD cover.

Channel 4 and 4HD kick off their Indian Winter season with the TV premiere of Slumdog Millionaire tonight at 9pm.

Son of Rambow (2007)

Posted on December 31, 2009 by badblokebob

2009 #35
Garth Jennings | 92 mins | DVD | 12 / PG-13

Of late I’ve posted several reviews resorting to taking my notes and turning them into sentences — this is why I probably should’ve stuck to my old post-them-all-in-order method. It’s now about nine months since I watched Son of Rambow, and the chances of being able to construct a worthwhile assessment from a combination of notes and memory has long since passed. So, for hopefully the last time, I offer up a paragraphified version of my brief initial notes.

Son of Rambow is beautifully written and directed, both roles fulfilled by Garth Jennings, who was previously responsible for directing the surprisingly-good (to my eyes) Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy movie. In contrast to that effects-ridden intergalactic comedy, Son of Rambow initially seems like a relatively straightforward, perfectly pleasant little movie about two boys and their video camera. It’s partly this, but it also brings in subplots of what it means to be a family — on various levels — and the evils of over-zealous religious orders (always a favourite topic for me).

Every significant character is given at least one twist that adds an extra level to them, even those who seem to just serve a specific plot function, and most of the minor ones — right down to Will’s silent grandmother — are given their small moment to shine. Nice little touches in Jenning’s work abound, from the comic asides with Didier to Will’s fertile imagination realised through animation, or the post-credits snippet of dialogue.

The two pre-pubescent boys have to carry the film, but thankfully are up to the task (even if their names being Bill nd Will and one of the characters being called Will (the one that’s played by Bill) make remembering them outside of the film a bit of a minefield). They are never less than utterly believable in both writing and performance. Will Poulter (as Lee Carter, the more rebellious of the two) is exceptional, talented in a way that’s reminiscent of River Phoenix in Stand By Me. It’s no surprise that both have gone on to greater things. And by “greater” I really mean “other”. There are wonderful performances all round in fact — aside from the lads, Jessica Hynes is especially worthy of note, creating a powerful character in just a handful of scenes.

The shape of the story may be familiar (unlikely pair start off wary of each other but become best friends, eventually fall out when one exceeds himself, but realise the error of their ways to come back together in the nick of time) and the lessons learnt are hardly new (true friendship can conquer all), but it’s all put together with immense joy and skill, built around a charming concept, that it becomes far more than the sum of its parts.

Hilarious and touching in equal measure, you’d need a heart of stone to remain unmoved. A triumph.

Son of Rambow placed 4th on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2009, which can be read in full here.

Originally posted on 14th March 2010.

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