My Neighbour Totoro (1988)

Posted on August 19, 2011 by badblokebob

aka Tonari no Totoro

2011 #41
1988 | Hayao Miyazaki | 83 mins | TV | U / G

Once, a few years ago, SFX published an anime special (it was their first, I think) with a rundown of the Best Ever Anime Films. You’d expect it to be topped by something regularly cited and, considering the source magazine, science-fiction/fantasy-y — Akira, probably; or perhaps Ghost in the Shell; or maybe Oscar-winner Spirited Away. But it was actually My Neighbour Totoro that rose victorious on that occasion, an unexpected choice you could tell the magazine felt the need to justify even in the article accompanying the list. But they weren’t wrong — this is a deserving champion.

Totoro tells a charming story, where very little of significance seems to happen, yet is never dull or overly stately. It works to build a lot of character and affection for them, so that by the climax, when something definitely does happen, all the work that’s gone into the characters really pays off. It doesn’t whack you round the head with its impressiveness, in the way those other films I mentioned might, but instead sneaks up on you with the realisation that it’s a beautiful work.

The fantasy element is quite light, perhaps surprisingly considering the titular character is a giant teddy-bear-like creature. There are sequences of pure fancy, but it doesn’t saturate the film; it’s as much a gentle drama about two young girls in a new home waiting for their mother. It’s a little like Pan’s Labyrinth in this respect (or, rather, Pan’s Labyrinth is a little like this). It’s not scary in the slightest (well, maybe in the slightest, for some kids, but note the U and G ratings), but in terms of how it balances real-life dramas with the fantasy element. Only in both the real and fantasy worlds it’s a lot nicer, friendlier and cheerier than del Toro’s acclaimed fantasy-horror. To put it more succinctly, they share a similar structure and balance, but a completely different tone.

The story and characters are supported by the huge talents at Ghibli. It’s exquisitely animated, from the detailed painted backgrounds, to the well-observed character animation, down to little touches like flies around a nighttime light — things that have no need to be there but bring the frame alive. Jô Hisaishi’s music is equally beautiful. The music regularly plays more than its usual role in storytelling too, accompanying otherwise silent (bar sound effects) scenes perfectly. “Accompanying” is the wrong word — it’s not just accompaniment; it’s integral to the mood and the action. Normally such use of music is heavy-handed — “feel sad NOW”, “feel scared NOW” — but Hisaishi’s work is never that crass. It’s not omnipresent either, just appropriate; and it’s always adding something, without it necessarily being obvious what that something is.

The English-friendly version has advantages too: I love any subtitles which use semicolons. It’s not inundated with them, but there was at least one. Semicolons are so underused. I love a good semicolon.

My Neighbour Totoro is a very nice film — and not in a mediocre way. That’s not to say there’s no drama — see the climax — but there’s no enforced peril, no nasty characters. They’re not needed. It’s quite refreshing. Is it the best anime film ever? I’m not qualified to say. But it must be a contender.

My Neighbour Totoro placed 7th on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2011, which can be read in full here.

The King’s Speech (2010)

Posted on August 12, 2011 by badblokebob

2011 #57
Tom Hooper | 113 mins | Blu-ray | 12 / R

Britain seems to be having a grand time of it at the Oscars of late — following Slumdog Millionaire’s triumph two years ago, the last ceremony saw this scoop all the major gongs (and that’s not to mention the other films that have gained isolated noms and wins in the past couple of years). Considering, as someone said recently, there’s no such thing as a “British film industry”, that’s not bad. But award wins mean diddly-squat in the long run — look at the number of classic films and acclaimed directors who’ve never won — so is The King’s Speech actually worth it?

The core of the film, the screenplay, is excellent — dramatic, funny, truthful. It won Best Original Screenplay… but surely it was an adapted screenplay? It’s so grounded in real events, based (at least in part, or so I thought) on the real man’s diaries and the book that was in turn based on them. When the Adapted Screenplay nominations include films loosely inspired by short films and semi-spin-offs from TV series that don’t even feature many of the same characters, never mind actually adapting their source for the big screen, surely something like this is definitely adapted? Who knows… or, frankly, cares — it’s still good, that’s what matters. And if the authors of the book missed out on an on-screen credit, at least they’ve had plenty of tie-in promotion (including a featurette on the Blu-ray).

Hooper’s direction is fine, good even, but it’s no Social Network. Fincher was robbed there. At least he’s in good company. Hooper’s one of those directors (who seem to have emerged recently) who sometimes frame their actors small with a lot of empty wall around and above them. I don’t like this one bit. Stop it. Otherwise, I don’t think he has a distinct style (and that awful type of shot certainly isn’t distinctly his anyway). I’m not saying it needs to be obviously, batteringly A [Director]’s Film to deserve best direction — indeed, one can go so far down that route that it definitely doesn’t deserve the award — but Hooper’s work doesn’t hold a candle to Fincher’s refined style.

The headline win, though, was Colin Firth for Best Actor. I think it’s fair to say there was an element of It’s About Time about him taking it, but unlike, say, Scorsese’s win for The Departed, this wasn’t just a lifetime achievement award dressed up as a real one — Firth equally earnt it with this performance alone. Taking on the part of a stammerer is always a tricky job, and does play into the Academy’s fondness for actors playing at being disabled or impaired, but Firth presents a much more convincing stammerer than you usually see (I have this on good authority from someone who knows several stammerers). It’s not just the Oscar bait element he nails though, as he also brings truth and gravitas to the rest of the role. It’s a complex part — he’s a man who has the throne unexpectedly thrust upon him, at a transitional time for the monarchy, as the nation is launched into one of its most difficult periods.

While Firth garnered all the praise, co-lead (not just Supporting Actor) Geoffrey Rush has been a little more overlooked. It’s a subtle turn but it’s the relationship between the two men that really makes the film. It’s easy to see how such an unshowy part was missed in some quarters during awards season, but Rush is wonderful. Rounding out the leads, Helena Bonham Carter seems to be returning to the heritage roles of her early career, but the more alternative path she’s carved since then lends an edge to the forthright but supportive spouse. It’s interesting to keep in mind the image we have of the Queen Mother from the modern era when looking at her as a younger woman.

But the quality casting doesn’t end there: in support are an array of cameo-sized roles from some exceptional actors, many of them leads in their own right normally. Most notable are Michael Gambon as the old-fashioned, but loving, King George V; Guy Pearce as the youthful, playboy-ish David / King Edward VIII; Timothy Spall doing a decent Churchill impersonation, which sparks one nice moment just before the titular speech; plus Outnumbered’s Ramona Marquez, pretty much stealing every scene she’s in (as usual) as the young Princess Margaret.

I don’t usually comment on my viewing medium — I include it at the top because it can affect all sorts of things, but I don’t feel especially qualified to review the quality of a Blu-ray or cinema or much else — but, occasionally, there’s something worth noticing. The UK BD of The King’s Speech is one of those: instead of running at film-speed 24fps in 1080p, like most movie BDs, this is 1080i/25fps — to put it another way, it has PAL speed-up (how much difference there is between “p” and “i” is debatable). This is naturally disappointing and begs the question “why?”, though when actually viewing the movie the audio doesn’t sound off (but then I’ve never thought it does when watching UK DVDs, so if you’re attuned to that kind of thing maybe it is) and it still represents a definitely HD image.

But I also felt I should mention it before commenting on the film’s visuals, in case it’s affected the visual style. I was going to comment on its slightly unusual look, for instance, which often represents strong pastel colours (when its not succumbing to the ubiquitous teal-and-orange), at the same time presenting a kind of desaturated, often cold feel. It looks odd, and to be honest I’m struggling to place my finger on what exactly is odd about it, but it’s slightly off-normal, slightly stylised, and I quite like it… but considering Momentum seem to have ballsed up the transfer to at least some degree, I’m not sure how much the oddness is a choice of Hooper and DoP Danny Cohen and how much a dodgy transfer/compression. Screen-grabs of the US release (which is at least 1080p, but not wholly praised in other areas, it seems) don’t help much. But as I said, I’m no real expert on Blu-ray quality, so don’t take my word as gospel by any means.

Let’s try not to get too distracted by such oddities, though. Even if directorially and cinematographically The King’s Speech isn’t the triumph a film lover might like their Oscar winners to be, it’s more than made up for by an exceptional screenplay and an array of highest-quality performances. It’s impossible to say how any film will be remembered in the future, but it seems to me this one is a solidly deserving winner.

Easy Virtue (2008)

Posted on July 11, 2011 by badblokebob

2011 #19
Stephan Elliott | 93 mins | TV (HD) | PG / PG-13

There doesn’t seem to be much love in the world for Easy Virtue, a witty adaptation of Noel Coward’s play (previously filmed in the ’20s by Alfred Hitchcock). A quick peek at some of my regular go-tos for such opinion-canvassing reveals a lamentable 6.6 on IMDb and an even worse 52% rating at Rotten Tomatoes. I don’t understand.

The plot concerns a young aristocratic Brit bringing his new American girlfriend — shockingly, a divorcee racing driver — back to his family’s stately home. The family are old money — the proper kind, where all the money’s gone. Cultural clashes and all sorts of other hijinks follow. Hilarity, with pleasant inevitability, ensues.

Obviously Easy Virtue is, primarily, a comedy. Fortunately, it’s frequently hilariously funny. You’d expect nothing less from a work taken from Coward, I suppose, and it doesn’t disappoint… well, didn’t disappoint me — as we’ve seen, others are a different matter. But hush, we’ll try to ignore them for the moment. There’s a decidedly wicked streak to the humour at times (a subplot about the fate of the family Chihuahua; lots of double entendres), which is welcome. The overall tone is light, largely, but not light in the head.

Director Stephan Elliott adds something extra to the wit with his choice of a wonderfully inventive soundtrack. (No disservice to those directly in charge of the music, but I’m certain I read somewhere — possibly in the soundtrack CD’s liner notes — that the following was Elliott’s idea.) Standards from the era are present and correct, but Cole Porter-styled reinterpretations of modern songs like Car Wash and Sex Bomb raise a smile whenever they turn up unexpectedly. It’s fabulously cheeky.

My notes also add that it is “beautifully shot [and] magnificently directed”, but unfortunately I come up short for examples after so long.

It’s not all giggles, though: there’s some surprisingly deep drama and emotions tucked in here, like the truth about Jessica Biel’s character’s past, central to the climax of the film. Naturally it falls largely on the cast to make this work, and they certainly do. The performances are frequently exceptional, especially Colin Firth, who negotiates the humour and drama with ease — his recollections of World War One being one of the darker points, for instance. I’m not entirely sure why but I have a distinct dislike of Kristin Scott Thomas, but here she’s very good as the nasty, coldly cruel mother.

I also particularly want to highlight Phillip, the awkward brother of the neighbours, and as such a minor character, played by Christian Brassington. This is the kind of character who turns up in plenty of comedies; a role that usually stops at “bumbling fool who likes the lead female but has no chance in a sweet, humours kind of way” (succinct, I know). Here, however, the character is redeemed at the end, when he tells a nasty character how cruel she’s been and aids in the ‘rescue’ of said lead female when she’s embarrassingly stranded. It’s still not a big part, nor a showy one, but those little closing tweaks left him standing out for me.

Describing Easy Virtue in a single word is easy: “underrated”. A shame that’s the word to reach for, but equally I’m not sure what other could appropriately encapsulate it. Witty, cheeky and irreverent, with surprisingly dramatic undertones — perhaps “jolly good fun” would suffice. Apart from that being three words.

Easy Virtue placed 8th on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2011, which can be read in full here.

Harry Brown (2009)

Posted on June 27, 2011 by badblokebob

2009 #13
Daniel Barber | 103 mins | Blu-ray | 18 / R

Michael Caine killing hoodies. How great does that sound? As a film premise, that’s awesome. If it doesn’t get you excited about seeing this movie, then what kind of film fan are you, eh?

A mentally mature one, probably. But hush, don’t spoil our fun — those of us who may occasionally hanker for a morally simple form of voyeuristic vigilante justice want to see Sir Michael shooting yobs who definitely Have It Coming. Harry Brown delivers this wonderfully.

Politically and morally, in a real-world sense, Harry’s actions are as questionable as those in any vigilante movie. And yet, for that, it’s hard to avoid the sense that he’s bloody well right. Even as someone against capital punishment, against unnecessarily arming the police, and so on, there’s still satisfaction in witnessing Harry carry out his revenge; justice. When police raids kick off a violent riot at the climax, there’s the thought that Harry was dealing with this more effectively; that cutting the yobs down in a swathe of machine-gun fire might be the best solution for the future of humanity. Which in some ways is quite a chilling way to feel. I’ll be buying the Daily Mail and watching Sky News next.

Barber’s film tries to dress itself up as plausible social drama, mind. Of course it’s more revenge fantasy wish-fulfilment, but perhaps the veneer of believability makes what happens even more satisfying. The bright side of that is the film manages to be a bit more than just a celebration of violence. It takes the moral question head on… sort of. “Where does it stop?” asks one character, once Harry’s dispatched with all but one of the main bastards who need dispatching. There’s a twist, which is neatly built up and I didn’t see coming so I won’t spoil, and it does make you briefly question, “where does it stop?” And that’s why vigilantism, or revenge in any way, is an ineffective solution in the real world. But this is a film and there comes a solution, so that’s OK. As with the rest, it is deserved, and it’s difficult not to think, “well, Harry was right, actually”.

Caine gives a stunning performance as the titular pensioner. The film bothers to invest you in the character: a man shattered by the death of his wife, the murder of his only friend, the past loss of a daughter, and buried experiences serving as a Marine in Northern Ireland. The evolution from quiet, downtrodden everyman to skilled vigilante is plausibly created — or, at least, plausibly enough. It’s to the credit of screenwriter Gary Young that he doesn’t dive to the vengeance action as soon as possible; to the credit of Barber that he’s not afraid to let the early scenes play out slowly, often with lots of silence, conveying the reality of the lonely pensioner. Whatever you may think of the revenge thriller it turns into, I think it’s hard to deny these early scenes have a realism and power. It is, of course, to the credit of Caine that he performs all this flawlessly. Oh yes, he’s (to quote another review) “the king of cool” when blowing away the scum that surround him, but before that he’s an affecting old gent, abandoned by the world.

Comparisons with Death Wish should probably be made, because yes, they do have much in common. Harry Brown is more skilled, though: Caine out-acts Charles Bronson at every turn, and Barber clearly is a director of not inconsiderable talent, something Michael Winner patently is not. The structure is the same, really — motivation from a brutal attack on the closest person to our lead character; spurred by his general feeling of useless ineffectiveness in the face of the modern, violent world; a long, steady slide downhill before our hero turns to vigilantism; his struggle to pull off the attacks — he’s no superman, they don’t go perfectly. But Harry Brown feels superior. Perhaps because it’s more vital to our times — this is a situation occurring in our country right now, not a somewhat abstract rape and murder. Not that those aren’t foul crimes, but Harry Brown has more of a relevant social conscious. The counter to that would be that a murder spree may be viscerally satisfying but isn’t a real-world solution, so this is just as useless at relevancy as Death Wish.

One might also argue that Harry Brown loses Death Wish’s strongest aspect: Bronson never gets the men who attacked his family, only able to exact vengeance on criminals he happens across; Caine, on the other hand, gets to attack those responsible… and a couple of others who are peripherally connected and at least as deserving of his bullets. It’s more narratively satisfying to get revenge on the actual perpetrators, but not always as realistic. While that is a strength in Death Wish, it doesn’t make Harry Brown a lesser film for not following the same path. This is a different story, despite the similarities — it’s set in a more confined area, with more specific problems, and the murder is the catalyst for Caine’s character to take action against the people who are perpetrating all the crime, not just the particular one that galvanises him.

This is the kind of movie that can polarise an audience. For one thing there’s lurid and extreme language and violence, and lots of it — this well earns its 18 — but it is, largely, justified by the context. Beyond that, there are a lot of political and moral implications raised by the film’s realist tone. Some will think it tackles these, others that it’s just a facile revenge movie; some will think it’s cool, others despicable; some will think it plausible, others anything but. Or maybe, rather like me, you’ll think it’s all of those things, however mutually exclusive they may seem.

Harry Brown is satisfying when you know it probably shouldn’t be, and because of that it’s also thought-provoking, and because of those things it’s five stars from me.

Unthinkable (2010)

Posted on June 22, 2011 by badblokebob

2011 #28
Gregor Jordan | 93 mins | TV (HD) | 18 / R

Star Wars’ Samuel L. Jackson, The Twilight Saga’s Michael Sheen and The Matrix’s Carrie-Anne Moss star in this low-key thriller from the director of Buffalo Soldiers, Ned Kelly and The Informers. Sheen plays an American Muslim who alleges he has planted bombs around the country; after he is captured, Moss’ FBI team are brought in to locate the bombs; Jackson is a black-ops interrogator brought in to get the truth out of Sheen — by any means necessary. Including — or, perhaps, especially — illegal ones.

I say it’s a “low-key thriller” because, though the stakes are high, the vast majority of the action takes place in a deserted high school commandeered as a temporary military base, where Moss’ team work out of re-appropriated classrooms and Jackson conducts his interrogation in a sort of one-way-glassed torture tank placed in the gym. So there’s no 24-style thrills as people rush around the city/country hunting out bombs — Unthinkable is wholly reliant on the script and performances to draw us into its story, and its debate.

The debate in question is torture, and whether it’s excusable, and under what circumstances, and how far it’s OK to go. Though it’s grafted on to a story, it’s pretty clear that screenwriters Oren Moverman and Peter Woodward are as much, if not more, concerned with the issues at play than with the story they’re telling; the story, rather, is a decently dramatic way of drawing out and considering these issues. In my opinion, it works; at least, works well enough.

For some reason, Rotten Tomatoes only cites two professional reviews for Unthinkable (don’t know why, I know there are more — one’s quoted on the US DVD cover for starters), but the chosen pullquotes seem to sum up the opposing reactions I’ve spotted elsewhere, and indeed the opposing reactions a film such as this is predisposed to provoke. On one hand, one might find it “an entertaining and thought-provoking drama,” as does David Nusair of Reel Film Reviews; on the other, one might consider it “a clumsy polemic that bounces between the boundaries of stage-play debate and torture porn spectacle as everyone argues over ethics,” as does Sean Axmaker of Seanax.com. I’m far more inclined to agree with the former, and now intend to take Mr Axmaker’s four contentions one at a time as a handy way of shaping some more of my thoughts.

a clumsy polemic

As I’ve already insinuated, Unthinkable isn’t particularly subtle in its foregrounding of the torture debate. The thing is, a polemic requires it to be an “attack on someone or something”, which I don’t think Unthinkable is — I think it argues both for and against torture. Perhaps if the viewer is firmly entrenched in one viewpoint then the film will seem to support it to a polemical level; or perhaps they’d read it the other way, and see it as a polemic against their viewpoint. I don’t know which, though, because I don’t think it comes down hard on either side.

stage-play debate

I think such criticism also does it a disservice; or does the theatre disservice, because it seems implicit in this comment that something limited in the way a stageplay would be can only be simplistic and unworthy. Unthinkable takes place in a limited number of locations, true, but not so limited that it feels forced. Nor is it so flatly directed as to feel like a filmed play, nor are the performances theatrical in the negative sense.

torture porn spectacle

This is just rubbish. “Torture porn” has become an overused phrase; something readily grabbed to bash a film with. I’m not saying the sub-genre doesn’t exist, and I’m not saying it’s a good thing, but Unthinkable is not a torture porn film. Yes, it contains torture, and some of it is shown in some degree of detail, but it does not depict it as brutally as it could, and it does not revel in it. This isn’t torture for the audience’s enjoyment, this is torture as a point for debate — “is it allowable to do this to another human being to get results?”, etc. Which brings us to:

everyone argues over ethics

And? As I said, Unthinkable doesn’t try to hide that it’s a debate on torture, but nor does it use it in place of a plot. This isn’t an essay pretending to be a film.

There are, apparently, two cuts of Unthinkable. I watched it on Sky Movies and they showed the extended version, which is also the one on DVD/BD (or maybe they both are), which I can only imagine is the director’s preferred version. The only difference is an extended ending. Why a shorter one even exists is baffling, because that final shot is essential. There are films where an ambiguous ending fits — I’ll happily line up to argue in their favour should such a line be necessary (first example that randomly pops into my head: In Bruges) — but it wouldn’t work here, in my opinion, and so the final shot becomes a necessary tie-off. It’s much more important than simply answering a lingering question — it unequivocally presents the ultimate outcome of the characters’ actions. Like the rest of the film, it doesn’t seek to tell you whether this is right or wrong, but shows you where such decisions lead. Moralising is left up to the viewer. (Apologies if this is vague, but I don’t want to spoil it.)

Unthinkable has been largely missed as a direct-to-DVD effort, despite its moderately high-profile cast and relevant themes. It’s an effective thriller based around a debate that is perhaps simplistic, but also thought-provoking. It’s easy to dismiss torture in the abstract, but there are endless “what if”s and “how far”s that can change things. But should they? And so on…

Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961)

Posted on June 3, 2011 by badblokebob

2011 #26
Blake Edwards | 110 mins | TV (HD) | PG

Breakfast at Tiffany’s is a stonkingly famous film — it’s the one most of the famous images in the cult of Audrey Hepburn come from — this despite the fact that, as one IMDb review puts it, the plot makes it sound like “a gritty, vulgar film”.

It originates from a Truman Capote novel. That makes “gritty” and “vulgar” less startling adjectives. This was the early ’60s, though, so George Axelrod’s adaptation sanitises things for a mainstream US cinema audience. You can’t help but wonder if there’s a more faithful remake to be done, but how would that sit with those who idolise Hepburn’s take on Holly Golightly? Not well, I suspect. But faithfulness aside, in the hands of director Blake Edwards any grittiness disappears in a wave of pastel-coloured humour and frivolity.

And a happy ending. Not that the novel’s ending is unhappy per se, but this version is certainly more Hollywoodised. Some hate it, and I can see their point, but as the whole film has been appropriately smoothed in parts from the original, the modified finale doesn’t sit too badly. Casting Mickey Rooney as an OTT Japanese character really was a bad idea though. Another strike against the film could be that it originated the song Moon River, which I hate; but it works here, especially when sung plainly by Hepburn.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s isn’t Capote’s novel, but it is fun, and it’s plain to see why men and women alike have fallen for Hepburn’s Golightly. A more sordid adaptation of the book might be interesting, but that doesn’t negate the unique qualities of the film.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s is on Film4 tomorrow, Tuesday 28th October 2014, at 11am.

Assault on Precinct 13 (2005)

Posted on May 23, 2011 by badblokebob

2011 #55
Jean-François Richet | 104 mins | DVD | 15 / R

John Carpenter’s rough-and-ready ’70s exploitation B-movie is remade as a slick ’00s action B-movie dressed up as an A-movie by director Jean-François Richet (who would go on to find far greater critical acclaim with his two-part French crime epic Mesrine).

James DeMonaco’s screenplay presents an essentially new story built on the premise of the original film. So we’re still in a police station on its last night before closing down, there’s still a group of prisoners who turn up to be left in the cells overnight, and there’s still a gang outside laying siege to the handful of people holed up within — but, other than that, all other details are replaced or re-arranged. Which is a good thing, really — who wants a virtually-identical remake? For that you can watch the original. Unfortunately, the new stuff isn’t necessarily as compelling as what it’s replaced.

For starters, there’s now a surfeit of character backstory, and yet for all that extra work I’d argue we probably care about these characters less than those in the original. The original’s quasi-horror element is also sadly lost, by turning the faceless demonic gang into an enemy that not only has a face (in the form of a leader) but also a proper motive and everything. In part this is just the difference between ’70s and ’00s moviemaking, especially when what was an exploitation B-movie becomes mainstream action fare, but it makes things more bland.

I don’t have hard timings to back this up, but I think the siege starts earlier and lasts longer here. It certainly felt that way, in part because the character of the father (whose act of revenge leads the gang to the precinct in the original) is gone. Of course, the film is about the titular assault on the titular station, so I think this refocussing is more than fair enough. It, naturally, emphasises the siege element of a film about a siege, something the original almost reneged on with its lengthy setup.

Generally, however, things could do with tightening up here. Even if the siege seems to start earlier, the beginning especially goes on too long. One might well argue it did in the original too, but this isn’t emulating that — an awful lot of what happens is new, as I said: many of the characters and situations from the original have no corollary in the remake. Besides, there are some scenes included in the DVD’s deleted scene package that I think have more of a place in the film than some of what’s left.

The prologue is an excellent case in point. It seems to serve a purpose in setting up Ethan Hawke’s backstory… but we’re told all we need to know about that in the body of the film. In fact, if the opening were lost, why Hawke’s character is the way he is might unfold as more of a mystery throughout the film, which would make it an awful lot more interesting. The only reason the prologue is necessary is if you want to begin your movie with an action sequence… so that’s why it there then. It’s also set in a sun-drenched summery atmosphere, totally at odds with the well-evoked wintery New Year that pervades post-titlecard. Consequently, looking back on the prologue, it feels even more out of place. I think it’s also designed to set a Gritty tone, with its rundown apartment and drugs deal and all that palaver; probably because the rest of the film is too far-fetched, if you were hoping viewers were going to be in mind of The Wire or something. For all kinds of reasons, then, it doesn’t work; it should’ve gone.

At least the changes allow the film to be moderately fresh. If only the basic concept is the same, that allows for all sorts of new twists and surprises. It’s a Hollywood blockbuster so you can still spot who’ll survive to the end — mostly — but a few twists and surprises are thrown in here and there. I don’t know how many of them the trailer decided to reveal, but going in relatively blind (always easier for a not-terribly-successful film once it’s become a few years old) may well be beneficial.

In terms of the representation of race on screen, this is a film that could certainly be seen as a step backwards. While the original had a black police officer in charge of a white criminal, here not only is the lead officer white — as are all but one of the dozens of other policemen — but all the criminals inside the precinct are black or (in one case) hispanic. Ouch. You could try to argue we’ve developed past the need to force anti-stereotyping in casting; or you could argue this is a mainstream studio remake that felt the need to fall back on the familiar. It might not be a noticeable point were it not for it being so markedly different to the original.

Assault on Precinct 13 Mk.II has the decency to only take the original’s concept and craft a modified narrative around that, at least giving it some kind of point. Judged on its own terms, though it wastes too much time on over-familiar character beats it emerges as a moderately entertaining, if bland, action-thriller.

See also my comparison of this and the 1976 original here.

(500) Days of Summer (2009)

Posted on May 15, 2011 by badblokebob

This is the 500th review of a feature-length film to be posted on 100 Films. Moderately appropriate, no?

2011 #52
Marc Webb | 95 mins | Blu-ray | 12 / PG-13

Directed by Marc Webb (The Amazing Spider-Man), starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt (The Dark Knight Rises), with a supporting cast that includes Chloë Grace Moretz (Kick-Ass), Matthew Gray Gubler (All-Star Superman), and Clark Gregg (Iron Man, Iron Man 2, Thor, The Avengers)… (500) Days of Summer has nothing to do with superhero movies. Plenty of people involved in making it aren’t connected to superhero movies — mainly (what with her being the titular Summer) Zooey Deschanel. So why am I listing all of those connections? A slightly random bit of fun, that’s all.

That’s a phrase which might also summarise Webb’s directorial philosophy when it comes to this work. Much as the bracketing of 500 in the title has as much reason as Tarantino misspelling the whole title of his World War 2 movie, so Webb throws in directorial flourishes — asides, homages, fantasy sequences — in a broadly similar vein to Tarantino’s grab bag use of familiar tropes in the likes of Kill Bill and Inglourious Basterds. I was going to spotlight some of Webb’s exhibitions, but they quickly become hard to keep track of, never mind list. It’s not that the film lacks a coherent style — much of it is shot ‘normally’, for want of a better word, and works — but that there are a variety of asides and short sequences that spin off in different directions. They all sit surprisingly well within the story though — yes, some (perhaps all) are showing off a bit, but in a way that, by and large, works. And I’m a little bit glad I can’t quite list them all, because half the fun of (500) Days of Summer is watching what looks like a borderline-mainstream indie rom-com that suddenly throws these curveballs at you.

The plot follows greetings card writer Tom (Gordon-Levitt) as he falls in love with his boss’ new assistant, Summer (Deschanel), for the 500 days from when he first meets her to… well, that’d be the ending. It doesn’t do it linearly though — c’mon, this is an indie-ish ’00s film, did you really expect it to be chronological? This is just one of the aforementioned flourishes, though I suppose it’s one that’s more attributable to screenwriters Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber. Unfortunately — but predictably — the re-jigged chronology rarely has a point. It makes some juxtapositions that would be less slap-round-the-face obvious if they weren’t forcibly placed side by side — and therefore better for it — but most of the time it’s harmless. At least the regular use of a day counter to let us know where we are, a) makes it less confusing than other chronologically challenged films that want you to spend most of your viewing time working out what takes place when (I’m looking at you Alejandro González Iñárritu), and b) lets Webb have some fun with the counter towards the end.

Gordon-Levitt and Deschanel seem fundamentally likeable (the latter especially, I must say — let’s put her in the same camp as Carey Mulligan), making the relationship work all the better for the viewer. Or you could be jealous of beautiful people having fun, I suppose, but the early painfully-real awkward bits help overcome at least some of that. Meanwhile, Moretz plays the “pre-teen wise beyond her years” that she’d go on to be in Kick-Ass and Let Me In. Not that those three roles are identical by any means, but you can see how one led to the other.

An opening voiceover warns the viewer that “this is not a love story”. Of course, it is, just one without the traditional ending. Don’t worry, no spoilers here, but I will say that romantics would do well to heed this warning anyway, otherwise they might find themselves disappointed. However, viewers who are prepared for a story that rings true, in a way those routine rom-coms starring the likes of Jennifer Aniston never do, may well be pleasantly surprised. It’s not wholly unique — one might readily draw comparisons with Before Sunrise or Garden State, though I don’t think it’s necessarily as quirky (not a criticism, just a point) — but equally it doesn’t feel derivative.

I confess, I wasn’t really expecting to like (500) Days of Summer — something about the hype, indie-ness and my mood that day made me think I’d find it a bit too irritating, probably with too-cool characters I didn’t care about, gimmicks I’d find pointless, and a sense of déjà vu at indie rom-com antics. I think some viewers may find these irritants do crop up, at least in places — like I say, there are shades of other indie-rom-coms — but thanks to some sweet scenes, directorial flourishes that work, proper laugh-out-loud moments, and the sense that the plot is at least grounded (if not wholly residing) in the way most real relationships pan out, Webb’s debut feature overcomes the vast majority of its potential drawbacks to make for an entertaining and meaningful film. You can see why he was picked for the supposedly more teen-life-focused Spidey reboot.

An Education (2009)

Posted on May 12, 2011 by badblokebob

2011 #51
Lone Scherfig | 100 mins | Blu-ray | 12 / PG-13

It seems that every year, come Oscar season, there’s a British-made film we’re led to back so thoroughly that it gains nothing but incessant praise from every (British) quarter. Just to look at recent years, from the 2006 selection it was The Queen; from 2007, Atonement; and at the awards for 2008 and 2010 we were actually backing the big winner, Slumdog Millionaire and The King’s Speech respectively. I’m not going to say any of these films support my next point, but it often feels like the Great British Hope is being over-praised. Everyone here gets so caught up in Oscar fever that the one British film with a chance becomes The Greatest Film Ever Made for a couple of months, then when viewed with a steady head months or years later it often turns out to be good, but not that good.

An Education was the Great British Hope of 2009. It could’ve had Best Actress, or Adapted Screenplay, or even Best Picture… but unlike The Queen, Atonement, Slumdog Millionaire and The King’s Speech, it didn’t take home a single award. “How could they neglect such a masterpiece,” I’m sure some Brit with Oscar fever cried. Particularly when they gave Best Actress to Sandra Bullock. So we know what to expect when viewed 14 months after its Oscar ceremony was held, with an appropriately steady head… but, actually, it turns out that An Education is — to use a properly British expression — bloody good.

Based on a true story, the film tracks 1960s schoolgirl Jenny (Carey Mulligan) as she falls for an older man (Peter Sarsgaard) who represents a culture- and glamour-filled escape from her drab suburban life and its focus on getting a place at Oxford. It’s a romance and a coming-of-age tale, albeit one with a more naturalistic bent than your regular offering; more down-to-Earth and British than either something Hollywoodised or American-indie-fied. There are, perhaps, few massive surprises in the plot — anyone who doesn’t guess this won’t end well has somehow failed to encounter a “schoolgirl falls for glamorous older man” story before — but Nick Hornby’s screenplay and Scherfig’s direction execute it all with admirable conviction. You don’t feel like you’re watching something familiar.

Plus, Jenny’s induction into her new friends’ higher-class world isn’t marred by the usual abundance of “embarrassing faux pas” humour that such tales normally fall back on. I’ve never understood where the entertainment value is supposed to lie in seeing the character we’re asked to like being put through the kind of social embarrassment that happens all too often in real life and that we’d really rather like to forget. Perhaps it’s only missing here because these characters have to like Jenny throughout the film, rather than abandoning her as an inexperienced little girl after just one scene; but whatever the reason, thank heavens for it.

I’ve read some complain there’s no ending. I can only presume they walked out of the cinema or stopped their DVD before the film reached, y’know, the end. Sometimes I appreciate how people can criticise the lack of an ending, even when I disagree (see: In Bruges), but not here. An Education shows us all we need to see and comes to the conclusions it needs to come to, no more.

The ’60s are wonderfully evoked with an excellent use of locations — the sequence in Paris stands out, using landmarks and recognisable locations without once letting on it was shot almost 50 years late —, costume design, and some intermittently stunning photography. The last isn’t to say it doesn’t all look great, just some bits really pop out. Credit to DoP John de Borman, then, for making Jenny’s school and home life appear drab and stifling and her new-life seem glamorous and fun, without slathering either on too thick or making the difference glaringly obvious.

The film hangs on Carey Mulligan, justly nominated for her performance. Quite aside from whether the performance is awards-worthy or not, it’s effortlessly watchable. Mulligan is exceptionally easy to fall in love with — if you haven’t already when she was Ada Clare or Sally Sparrow, I’m sure Jenny Mellor will enchant you. On the other hand, some have found her character too pretentious or naïve — maybe your own background will dictate if you see these negative traits. Jenny is probably a little of both, but I wouldn’t say she’s wholly naïve and I wouldn’t say she’s pretentious, exactly — she’s clever, and she wants to experience the world. What’s wrong with that?

The whole cast are uniformly excellent, mind. Alfred Molina’s scene-stealing oppressive/comedic dad is the most obvious contender, but Olivia Williams is also memorable in a relatively tiny role, and Emma Thompson makes an effective cameo as the authoritarian headmistress. Rosamund Pike is also noteworthy for playing against type as vacuous-but-kind Helen, mercilessly teased by her ‘friends’ but sadly aware that she’s not keeping pace with them, despite her efforts. That Jenny is so clearly her intellectual superior but still takes advice from her and doesn’t sink to the boys’ teasing is an additional credit to that character. Plus there’s Dominic Cooper, the new James McAvoy in terms of the sheer volume of films he pops up in. Surely he’s now only a Last King of Scotland away from McAvoy-level stardom?

It’s slightly remiss of me not to mention Peter Sarsgaard, what with him being the other half of the film’s romantic relationship. He’s good, his Colin Firth-esque accent pitch-perfect, but while he’s spot on in the part — absolutely no complaints — I can’t think of any scenes where there isn’t someone else (usually Mulligan or Molina) grabbing the spotlight.

As noted, this was in danger of being of those films that aren’t as good as everyone said — the kind of British film where everyone jumps on the bandwagon of Our Oscar Contender and smothers it with undue praise — but An Education manages to withstand all that. It’s an excellent film, liable to provoke a beautiful kind of envy or faux-nostalgia (depending on one’s own (lack of) experience of the worlds and times Jenny gets to see); and even if it doesn’t, it remains funny, moving and, even if you feel you may’ve heard a similar story before, rather truthful.

The UK TV premiere of An Education is on BBC Two and BBC HD tomorrow, May 13th, at 8:30pm.

Up in the Air (2009)

Posted on May 9, 2011 by badblokebob

2011 #25
Jason Reitman | 105 mins | TV | 15 / R

Sometimes, it’s best to just come clean: I don’t have much to say about Up in the Air.

The plot, as you’ll likely know (it was an Oscar Best Picture nominee after all, meaning everyone’s heard of it… for a couple of years, anyway), concerns George Clooney playing someone who flies around America firing people for bosses too chicken to do it themselves. He’s very proud of the air miles he’s accumulated. He meets Vera Farmiga who also does something that involves flying around the country a lot and begins an on-off sex-based relationship with her. Anna Kendrick joins Clooney’s company and creates a plan to do his job via videoconferencing, thereby saving tonnes (sorry, tons — this is an American film) of cash by not having to fly people like Clooney all around the country. Clooney does not like this, so takes her out on the road for a bit to show her the reality of the job.

That’s probably a fair chunk of the film explained, which is not something I usually like to do, but the real point of it — whatever, exactly, that point may be — occurs once all these events are set in motion. And there are a few twists to the plot anyway, which I’m not even close to revealing there.

Cowriter-director Jason Reitman has created a surprisingly likeable film. It’s easy to see how Clooney’s character — very much the centre of the piece — could be irritating or vapid or any number of other negative adjectives, but instead he’s… well, he’s George Clooney, isn’t he? He’s all charm. If you were going to be fired, you’d probably want George Clooney to be doing it. For a character who is essentially an expansion of the Fight Club Narrator’s “single-serving friend” concept, he gets to become quite rounded and go on quite the journey. (Not just plane journeys either. Ho ho.)

The tone is pitched firmly at comedy-drama (or “dramedy”, if you’re American), which — as we know from experience — means it’s neither the most dramatic nor funniest film you’ll ever see. It does both nicely enough though, eliciting laughs and smiles where appropriate (and sometimes where not, naturally) and providing food for thought on occasion. It might be airplane food, but not everything’s cordon bleu.

Up in the Air got its Best Picture nom in the first year the Oscars went back to 10 nominations for the big prize. I’m not sure many would disagree that it’s one of The Other Ones — one of the ones that quite probably wouldn’t’ve been there if it hadn’t been for the category doubling in size. And if it was, it’d be The Other One — the token indie/comedy nomination that everyone knows isn’t going to win but was quite good all the same.

So I liked Up in the Air, and I even had more to say about it than I thought, but I didn’t love it. Indeed, while I’m not intending to avoid it as one would a bad film, I feel no particular desire to ever watch it again. It is, if you will, a single-serving film.

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