Category Archives: Drama

A Few Good Men (1992)

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2009 #38
Rob Reiner | 138 mins | download | 15 / R

A Few Good MenSometimes you have to wonder where it all went wrong. I can only imagine how good things looked for Rob Reiner at the start of the ’90s, when he’d had an almost-interrupted near-decade-long run of acclaimed movies in the director’s chair: This is Spinal Tap, Stand By Me, The Princess Bride, When Harry Met Sally, Misery, and finally this. ‘Finally’ being the operative word however, as it all seems to have gone down hill from there, to the extent that I actually felt the need to look him up on IMDb to check if he was still working/alive. (He’s both, having recently directed The Bucket List, a bit of a hit if I recall correctly.) Reiner is a recognisable name, and if he’d stopped making films after A Few Good Men perhaps he’d find himself bandied about on lists of Great Directors (at least in certain circles/magazines), but the fact I had to check what he’s been up to (and had forgotten how many acclaimed films he’d made in the first place) shows what a 15-year run of nothingy films can do for your reputation. Even the career of Spinal Tap themselves seems to be in better condition.

All that said, A Few Good Men isn’t really Reiner’s show. It’s not that he does a bad job — far from it — but courtroom dramas primarily depend on two things, even more so than most films: the quality of the writing and the quality of the performances. When you have scene after scene in which a handful of people battle with words alone, often in one-on-one confrontations, then those two elements are virtually all you’ve got. Of course camerawork, editing, music and the rest still have their part to play, but without the underpinning of good writing and good performances the technical attributes are merely fighting to cover for significant shortcomings. Fortunately, A Few Good Men has those underpinnings.

In this case the screenplay is by Aaron Sorkin, adapting from his own play, who would go on to create and write a great deal of The West Wing (which, incidentally, was inspired by leftover ideas from a later Sorkin/Reiner collaboration, The American President). The seeds of that show’s influential style are in evidence here, although the sheer pace and famous ‘Walk and Talk’ scenes aren’t yet part of the formula. As in The West Wing, Sorkin’s writing is both intelligent and witty, a hallmark of high-quality writing that’s able to rise above the shackles of “it’s not real drama unless it’s all grimly serious”. His characters and their personal story arcs may be straight from the stock pile — Tom Cruise is the hot-shot young lawyer who’s actually trying to live up to his daddy (and comes through in the end); Demi Moore is the goody-two-shoes woman trying to make it in a man’s world (who learns to work with her colleagues); and so on — but the plotting of the central case remains undiminished, and Sorkin thankfully avoids such obvious subplots as a romance between Cruise and Moore’s initially-mismatched-but-ultimately-mutually-respectful good guys. Nonetheless, the occasional lapses into extreme, often patriotic, sentiment that would later mar the odd episode of The West Wing are also on show here, most notably at the climax, though they fail to do any serious damage.

It’s in the all-important court scenes that Sorkin’s writing really shines. Dialogue flies back and forth like bullets, full of protocol and technical jargon — like in The West Wing — that we either understand or, when we don’t, get enough of the gist to follow the key plot points — like in The West Wing. The biggie is the final confrontation between Lt. Kaffee and Col. Jessep, an interview that’s the courtroom equivalent of a high noon showdown. It’s true that Tom Cruise plays Tom Cruise and Jack Nicholson plays Jack Nicholson, just as they almost always do, but it makes for a grand act-off. It’s fair to say that Nicholson comes out the victor, gifted with material that guides him from cocksure commanding officer to angry thug in just a few minutes, but it’s the bravado of Cruise’s questioning — undercut with uncertainty and genuine surprise when he pulls it off — that pushes Jessep there.

There are plenty of other good performances — typically competent work from Kevin Pollak doing the best friend thing and Kevin Bacon doing the friend-turned-rival thing, while Kiefer Sutherland’s ‘head bully’ role is memorable and Demi Moore holds her own better than the rest of her career might suggest — but this is undoubtedly a showcase for Nicholson and Cruise, and through them Sorkin’s writing. Not to mention that there are some nice directorial flourishes from Reiner. I wonder what happened to him?

4 out of 5

A Few Good Men is showing on Five tonight at 10pm.

The X Files: I Want to Believe – Director’s Cut (2008)

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2009 #44
Chris Carter | 104 mins | DVD | 15

Six years after the once-phenomenal TV series meandered to an inconclusive conclusion, Mulder and Scully were back at the cinema, a decade on from their previous between-seasons big screen outing. The big threat this time was not aliens, however; nor even something more Earthly supernatural; but rather, where they would find an audience? There are now kids old enough to watch this in a BBFC-endorsed fashion who weren’t even born when the series started, and that’s not to mention the misguided attempt to pitch this as a Summer blockbuster.

And if there’s one thing I Want to Believe isn’t it’s a Summer blockbuster, which its snowbound setting arguably gives away to even the most casual observer, while its lack of action sequences and focus on spooky goings-on and character relationships — not to mention that none of these characters are requisitely young enough to head up a typical Summer Movie — should have been the clue to studio execs. And, unsurprisingly, the release strategy failed, leaving audiences either disappointed or not even turning up. As with so many perceived flops these days, it seems to me, I Want to Believe didn’t actually flop: off a $30m budget it made $68m worldwide. Though as only $21m came from the US, where the consideration of box office stats is often highly self-centred, it’s easy to see why many believe it did. Such perception, coupled with poor reviews and that problem of finding an audience, may mean there’s not a third movie, which seems a shame with 2012 on the horizon — quite nice timing for a (last-ever, I should think) instalment.

But let’s return to the issue of how this film was perceived, because I think that’s key to why it was so poorly received. The problem here is that it’s an X Files movie; not because there’s anything wrong with another film for that series, and not because it’s a bad version of The X Files, but because that title carries certain expectations — not only from fans but, with greater relevance to any widespread success, from the general public. Witness the IMDb thread entitled “Where the F were the aliens”, for example. Were this just an entirely standalone supernatural-tinged thriller — and consequently released in a sensible non-Summer slot — it probably would’ve gone down a bit better.

As it actually stands, I Want to Believe is not the kind of X Files most people were expecting — i.e. Something To Do With Aliens, and it’s no spoiler to say that there’s not a single one to be seen — forgetting that the series was never just about extraterrestrials. The idea that I Want to Believe was a bit rubbish and thoroughly disappointing is consequently as much (if not more) the fault of those viewers and reviewers who expected a different kind of film and didn’t get it. That said, it’s a shame that I Want to Believe isn’t wholly successful as the kind of film it’s trying to be either: on the surface, a standalone low-key supernatural thriller — though it fails to explore or explain its fantastical and scientific ideas as fully as one would like, particularly during its lacklustre (anti-)climax — but one that also tackles issues of moving on, obsession and belief, and how they can impact on a relationship — though with all the weight you’d expect in the belated sequel to a sci-fi TV spin-off.

Mainly, however, it’s about belief. The examples of this are too numerous to mention, but a clear one is the subplot involving Scully’s fight to treat a terminally ill boy. The thread bears little relation to the main supernatural plot, which was another point of confusion for many viewers, but if you consider the film as a commentary on and examination of the various forms and merits of belief it begins to slot in a lot better. Perhaps this is another case of a filmmaker attempting something beyond what audiences were expecting to invest in terms of intelligence, although if one accepts it’s there and a significant part of the film it probably begins to pale as a relatively light and underdone exercise. Still, it’s hard to deny that belief is the film’s central theme, which pleasantly turns the title from a generic catchphrase from the series, as it initially appeared, to a none-more-appropriate moniker.

Perhaps distracted by his thematic intents, writer-director Carter rushes some plot points, though he may also be limited by budget constraints and the need to make a distinctly R-flavoured movie hit PG-13. While the Director’s Cut adds three-and-a-half minutes of material, which Duchovny asserts is mainly gore that was cut to avoid an R certificate in cinemas (full details of which can be found here), there’s still nothing that looks as if it would’ve been out of place on conservative US network television, and obviously no effort has been made to give the main plot some breathing space.

The same goes for the guest cast, most of whom are thoroughly underused. Billy Connelly makes a good show of it, but Amanda Peet’s FBI agent has much unfulfilled potential. Yet at other points Carter lets things spool out comfortably — too comfortably, some might argue. One of these places is the relationship scenes between the two leads. The amount of attention lavished on this might lend credence to a theory that the film is as much about a pair of ostensibly retired paranormal investigators as it is this particular case, and through that again a consideration of obsession and belief.

The large amount of time spent on Mulder and Scully’s relationship fortunately doesn’t turn the film into an effort solely for the benefit of ‘shippers’. There’s definite space here for a portrait of two people in a relationship who have tried to move on from their old life but just can’t, and at times I Want to Believe does achieve such lofty aims. Little nuggets of information — such as the fact they’re even in a relationship, or that they once had a child together — drop in almost from nowhere in a way that undoubtedly sounds just like dialogue to a knowledgeable fan, but to a more casual viewer works as a slow uncovering of these two characters. Unfortunately such quality is fitful, especially as the movie goes on, and while the nine-seasons-and-one-movie of backstory initially just add depth if you know about them, it’s some time before the sudden and underwhelming climax that it feels they’re dictating events a little too much. What was shaping up to be a workably standalone depiction of two characters almost becomes just a status update on Mulder and Scully.

And here lies the rub: at times, the Second X Files Movie gets too caught up in being just that. There’s nothing wrong with that per se, but it could do with remembering it’s a Movie and not just another X File — especially if it wants to find any new (or even lapsed) viewers. When Assistant Director Skinner turns up it’s the final nail in the coffin for any shot at independence. As a fan, it’s impossible to begrudge a brief but heroic last-minute appearance from Mulder and Scully’s long-time ally, but as an objective viewer, he’s just some bloke who turns up with no introduction just in time to play a major role in the climax. It’s a misstep that, along with an accumulation of others, seriously damages the film.

But does an X Files movie need to be independent? Should nine seasons (and one movie) of backstory be ignored? Well, yes and no. There’s nothing wrong with making a “where are they now?” fan-pleasing reunion, but that would belong on TV with the bulk of the thing being commemorated. In the cinema, six years distant and billed as a standalone tale (note that it’s not even The X Files 2: I Want to Believe, never mind The X Files 204: I Want to Believe), it ought to stand on its own two feet and work entirely as a self-contained piece of drama. That it fails in this is perhaps the most disappointing aspect of all for me: it makes it infinitely harder to defend this as a supernatural thriller that deserves to be judged entirely on its own terms, rather than with some established knowledge of what The X Files ‘is’, when the makers are relying on those self-same established notions to tell their story.

Never mind finding an allusive audience, this is the film’s real battle: when Carter gets too caught up in making The Second X Files Movie, shifting what’s working well as both The X Files and A Movie into straight-up An X Files Movie territory. It’s this failure to be independent — not to the point of ignoring the series’ backstory, I should clarify, but to a point where this film can be wholly appreciated without ever seeing The X Files — that ultimately holds I Want to Believe back from becoming a great horror/thriller/drama movie in its own right. It’s frustrating because so often Carter comes tantalisingly close to fulfilling such ambitions, and if he had I’d have no qualms about defending this movie as an underrated (though, it is), misunderstood (though, it is) and independent supernatural-flavoured drama. Sadly, however, I think I just want to believe it is.

3 out of 5

The X Files: I Want to Believe premieres on Sky Movies Premiere tonight at 9:45pm, then at various times throughout the week. It’s probably the theatrical cut, but who can say?

Flags of Our Fathers (2006)

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2009 #39
Clint Eastwood | 126 mins | DVD | 15 / R

Flags of Our FathersIt’s been two years since I reviewed the second in Clint Eastwood’s 2006 double bill of World War II films; thanks to the machinations of my DVD rental site, it’s taken this long to see the first. In a somewhat innovative move, the pair examine both sides of the battle for Iwo Jima: Letters from Iwo Jima from the (losing) Japanese perspective, while Flags of Our Fathers shows the (victorious, obviously) American view. I found Letters to be a fair effort, if undeserving of some of the praise and nominations it garnered, but the consensus seems to have it that this first half isn’t as good.

Perhaps that’s because Flags is a different kind of war film. While it seems to have been promoted as the story of the battle for Iwo Jima, it’s more about the experience of three men, both on the island and upon their return to America — hailed as heroes and paraded around the country trying to raise money for the war effort, purely because they happened to be in a photograph raising a flag. While there are still plenty of battle sequences and the occasional bit of “who will survive?” suspense — not to mention an examination of such issues as honour, duty, responsibility and so forth — Eastwood is clearly aiming for something different here. Indeed, while those themes may be standard war movie fare, by placing them in slightly different contexts Eastwood finds new (or at least uncommon) perspectives on them. Perhaps this explains why Letters came off better: by comparison it’s a much more typical war movie, therefore more what was expected.

Many of Flags’ weak spots also arise from this approach however. It adopts a time-jumping structure, flitting between the battle itself and what happened after. It’s debatable how well that works: at times it’s fine, at others it needlessly complicates matters. The final stretch also gets a bit meta/hyper/intertextual, following the author of the book on which the film is based as he conducts research for the book… then rams it home when the three lead actors also appear as his brothers. (To be fair, the latter is in a single shot where their faces are almost hidden.) In the end, Flags offers neither of the usual clear-cut war movie endings (“we won!” or “we lost nobly!”), closing with no easy answers or conclusions to the issues it raises. This at least sticks to its realism, but won’t be to all tastes (with reservations, I liked it).

One side effect of such a different approach is that Eastwood’s two Iwo Jima films make good companion pieces. In no serious way do they present Part One and Part Two of a story, but instead two vastly different perspectives on the same events. The points of crossover between the two are neatly used, occurring naturally rather than forcing “you’ll understand this later”-style mysteries upon the viewer, but mainly they explore the way two very different cultures reacted to the same battle.

They do directly share something however, and that’s a debt to Saving Private Ryan in their depiction of combat. A beach-storming sequence naturally invites direct comparisons, with Flags unquestionably coming off worse due to a lack of focus. It’s still an effective sequence and it’s not a clone of Ryan, but the comparison is hard to avoid and Ryan’s opening is famous for a reason.

Despite the verisimilitude the Ryan-esque visual style now has, Eastwood nonetheless shies away from some of the reality. It seems he can’t bear to explain or show what happened to Iggy, for example, though in fairness the viewer should be glad he didn’t. (If you want, some of the details can be found on Wikipedia, but be warned that his fate was truly distressing.) Knowing the truth, one can only imagine the trauma and guilt felt by ‘Doc’ Bradley in the wake of the incident.

On a lesser level, one also imagines it must be difficult as a filmmaker deciding whether to include such details or not — on one hand, I’m glad we weren’t confronted with them on screen (certainly, to show a body would have been too much), but, while the details are horrific, knowing them adds an extra layer of emotion that is absent when kept a mystery. An externally-gained awareness of the reality of Iwo Jima adds a weight that is arguably missing from the film, but which improved it for me.

Flags of Our Fathers is an unusual war movie, probably not what many were expecting when told Eastwood was doing a War Film about the battle of Iwo Jima. But by being different it has a lot to say about the experience of war — both on an individual level and in a broader sense — that is rarely (if ever) expressed on film in quite this way.

4 out of 5

My thoughts on the second half of this pair can be read here.

Stand By Me (1986)

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2009 #29
Rob Reiner | 89 mins | download | 15 / R

Stand By MeStand By Me is a film an awful lot of people love an awful lot, which it always seemed to me was down to first seeing it at the right age (more or less the age of the main characters, I think) and possibly to being part of a certain generation — would it have the same effect for kids today, when the relative innocence and freedom of the ’50s is arguably lost? As I say, “seemed”, because now I’m not sure either of these factors really matter.

Irrespective of age, generation, or being able to remember the kinds of experiences suggested by the film, Stand By Me is still an effective and affecting little film. The level of enjoyment for some may depend on how much they can stomach child actors, though as kids go they’re mostly very good. River Phoenix in particular is brilliant, highly natural while bringing a lot of depth to perhaps the most important role. Wil Wheaton also makes a good account of himself, just one year before attracting derision as Wesley Crusher in Star Trek: The Next Generation. (Phoenix, of course, went on to have a tragically short-lived career.) Kiefer Sutherland is as effective a villain as he ever would be, though that aspect of the plot is almost an aside.

An aside, because the film isn’t about the fights between the young heroes and a group of older bullies. Rather, it’s a paean for childhood, with the adult perspective and the ‘lost age’ setting of the ’50s succinctly highlighting the nostalgic spirit. To be precise, it’s not so much reflecting on “childhood” as on “growing up” — the choices that are open when young that either disappear with time or, for whatever reason, become closed off. The whole film is arguably about choice: choice of friends, choice of social class, Ace’s constant listing of choices (the subtext breaking into the text, as many a film teacher would point out), even the obvious choice whether to follow the tracks or take shortcuts (surely symbolic). Thematically, it’s the choice to be put down or stand up for yourself; the choice to stick around and wind up a nobody or work hard and get out, also underlined in the present-day bookends.

Perhaps being the right age is helpful to a love for Stand By Me, but at any stage in life it’s easy to relate to its depiction of the experiences and choices of childhood, be they now lost, taken, or never even had.

4 out of 5

Stand By Me is on Channel 5 today, Sunday 12th October 2014, at 2pm.

The Man in the Iron Mask (1998)

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2009 #30
Randall Wallace | 132 mins | download | 12 / PG-13

The Man in the Iron MaskFrom the off it’s clear that The Man in the Iron Mask is not going to go well. It’s an adaptation of a tale of the Three Musketeers, so naturally is set in historical Paris… where everyone has a different accent and very few of them are French. It is, to be blunt, a horrid mishmash — much like the whole film.

Wordy political intrigue tries to coexist with broad comedy which is squashed against swashbuckling adventure. The latter two could co-exist, but the film feels like it wants to be the former and so suffers for it. The comedy jars too much to be effective, while instances of unintentional comedy unfortunately provoke more frequent laughs. It should at least be able to swash buckles effectively — these are the Three Musketeers after all — but entirely fails to achieve this until the climax. The plot, semi-faithfully adapted from one of Alexandre Dumas’ original novels, offers a level of complexity to which the film clearly aspires, but the adaptation and acting struggle to match it.

The majority of performances are marred by overacting — John Malkovich, especially, is woefully miscast, while Leonardo DiCaprio doesn’t appear to give a particularly good performance as either Louis or Philippe. In DiCaprio’s defence I suspect this is actually the script’s fault, because he manages to clearly differentiate the two when they are silent or pretending to be the other — it’s when they open their mouths that it all goes wrong. Gérard Depardieu is fine as the comic relief, though that relief is tonally misplaced, while Gabriel Byrne makes an interesting d’Artagnan — there’s nothing at all wrong with him, and yet he doesn’t feel quite right. Which leaves just Jeremy Irons among the main cast. He fares the best of the lot, even getting the occasional scene or speech that is genuinely quite good, though it’s clear he is far better than the material. To be fair, the same is also true of everyone else.

For all this, The Man in the Iron Mask is more disappointing then bad. The Bastille-set climax is occasionally brilliant and never less than entertaining, delivering on the film’s swashbuckling promise in a copious fashion. Throughout, there’s the occasional good scene — or even just a decent line of dialogue — and you can briefly understand what inspired such quality actors to sign on.

Something went wrong somewhere though, and the obvious culprit must be writer/director Randall Wallace. The story’s good, but that’s Dumas’, while the adaptation’s weak — and that’s Wallace’s. The actor’s are good, but battle the poor script — and that, obviously, is Wallace’s. They don’t seem to have been given any significant direction, they’re not helped by an uneven tone, and even the cinematography falls short, failing to make the spectacular locations and costumes look suitably beautiful on screen — and we know who’s ultimately in charge of all that too.

The Man in the Iron Mask desperately wants to be better than it is — it’s a great tale, packed with politics and swashbuckling, and this particular version has the high calibre cast to pull it off. But both are left floundering by a writer/director who isn’t up to either task — poor dialogue, a gyratingly uneven tone and lacklustre direction abound. A missed opportunity, and all the more disappointing for it.

2 out of 5

Lethal Weapon (1987)

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2009 #8
Richard Donner | 110 mins | download | 18 / R

Lethal WeaponLethal Weapon comes from another era — an era in which R-rated films were still allowed to be blockbusters. One only needs to look at the classifications attached to the most recent instalments of formerly-R-rated ’80s franchises — primarily, Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines and Die Hard 4.0, both PG-13 — to see how things have changed. Of course, maybe they have just cause: Watchmen, the first proper R-rated blockbuster for a while, has been labelled a box office disappointment (because that’s what $150m worldwide in two weeks is these days).

I digress. Though, my mind frequently wandered during Lethal Weapon — often to Die Hard. This may predate the Bruce Willis franchise by several years, but it’s a testament to the fame of that film’s Christmas setting that my first thought was they’d ripped it off (Lethal Weapon, like Die Hard, begins with a classic Christmas song over an urban setting). And my next thought was, did they not have a costume budget? The film opens with a young girl, lazing provocatively with one tit out… at first, before Donner makes sure to show them both off thoroughly before she hurls herself from a building; and then we find Danny Glover’s Murtaugh in the bath and Mel Gibson’s Riggs wandering around showing his arse off. Nudity is fine in its place, of course, but here it’s so gratuitous that it sets a low tone — to be fair, one the film does little to belie.

More seriously then: the plot is full of holes with great gaps in its logic, especially as it heads towards the climax. There’s also no mystery — the investigation is just an excuse to string together action set pieces and comedic buddy scenes, neither of which are much cop, and most of the story is conveyed in a couple of info-dumps that supporting characters volunteer for no definite reason. The dialogue and performances are appalling — “may I remind you of some stuff you already know, that’s convenient exposition for the audience, thoroughly explaining the troubles of the main character and the scene you just saw”. I’ve seen better episodes of Murder, She Wrote. Their motivation makes about as much sense too — “tell me the truth!” “But they’ll kill my daughter!” “We can protect her!” “No you can’t!” “Tell me!” “Oh OK then.”

The villains aren’t just poorly drawn, they’re barely sketched at all. There’s an early scene where we see how Hard they are, then they just turn up in time for the climax and do little more than get chased around and die explosively, and in the wrong order to boot. At the very end, our heroes capture the one remaining bad guy… and then have a fight. Why? Because they do. And then all the police turn up and just watch this punch-up going on. It’s the thinnest excuse for a final fight ever put on film, and consequently the least tense — none of those officers are going to let the villain kill Riggs, and even if he did beat or kill him he’s not going to escape. There is literally no point to it. It’s appalling writing, and dire filmmaking to have left it in.

Oh, and Murtaugh smashes a car into his own front room for no reason.

Lethal Weapon probably wants to be a lot better than it is. Was it supposed to be a drama about these two cops with any old investigation plot stuck on, or a standard action-thriller with too much time spent on character? At best, it falls somewhere between the two — they’re not real characters (i.e. it wouldn’t pass as a drama if you cut out the thriller), each being made up of several stock Action-Thriller Hero traits; but nor is the plot the main focus, what with it being rather generic and not especially interesting or at all complex. The leads’ repartee and bonding is more interesting than the actual plot, and is surely the explanation for the film’s enduring popularity and three sequels, though to be honest I didn’t get it.

I’d always thought Lethal Weapon must be alright — after all, as I said, it’s had an enduring popularity and was written by Shane Black, who went on to both write and direct the thoroughly wonderful (and underrated) Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (with Robert Downey Jr being fantastic a good few years before his popularity resurgence in Iron Man) — but having seen it, I struggle to see why people like it to any significant degree.

2 out of 5

ITV1 are showing Lethal Weapon tonight at 10:15pm.
Lethal Weapon is on Watch tonight, Tuesday 23rd September 2014, at 10pm.

Glory (1989)

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2009 #28
Edward Zwick | 117 mins | DVD | 15 / R

GloryEd Zwick seems to like war. More accurately, Zwick likes making films about war, but clearly isn’t a fan of the act itself. Since gaining attention with multi Oscar-winner Glory, about the first black regiment during the American Civil War, he’s directed a number of films concerned with wars and those that fight them: Courage Under Fire (“Army officer investigates female chopper commander’s worthiness for the Medal of Honor”), The Siege (“a wave of terrorist attacks in New York lead to the declaration of martial law”), The Last Samurai (“American military advisor embraces the Samurai culture he was hired to destroy”), Blood Diamond (a group of people battle for a diamond during the war in Sierra Leone), and most recently Defiance (“Jewish brothers in Nazi-occupied Eastern Europe escape into the forests”). Whatever the reasons for Zwick’s preoccupation, he certainly has a talent for it.

In Glory, Zwick is helped by a story that’s definitely worth telling, one which I imagine seemed even more pertinent on its original release, when Nelson Mandela was still in prison and the state of race relations in the US would contribute to riots in Los Angeles inside of 18 months. Still, it would be easy to slide into Issue of the Week melodrama in handling such a tale, but Zwick manages it without undue sentiment — there’s an appropriate realisation of the importance of events, perhaps even occasional reverence, but time is taken to show doubts and prejudices. It may get too sentimental for some tastes toward the end, but considering the importance of the story I don’t think it’s unwarranted or overplayed.

Similarly, most of the hero characters are less than perfect, with Matthew Broderick’s Colonel of particular note as a conflicted and initially cowardly commanding officer, more concerned with propriety than what is right — until he’s led to a change of heart, of course. His is just one of several excellent performances: Morgan Freeman does what Morgan Freeman does best as the Authoritative Elder, while Denzel Washington’s angry young man justifiably earnt him his first Oscar. The wider supporting cast hold their own against these leads, particularly Andre Braugher as the idealistic but ultimately unsuited volunteer Thomas Searles.

The handful of battle sequences are effectively staged, suitably tense and brutal, though these are really ancillary — the regiment only engaged in conflict a couple of times and so, appropriately, actual fighting makes up a relatively slender portion of the film. The unfamiliarity of the story helps keep things tense both in and out of battle — for obvious reasons, the majority of battles depicted on film are famous ones, often because of their outcome, so it makes for an agreeable change to not know where events will lead.

These elements all blend to create a film that is, at the very least, the sum of its parts: a significant historical story with strong performances and a convincing depiction of war, which negotiates the thin lines that surround sentiment and reverence. Zwick may not be a fan of war, but he certainly knows how to put its stories on film.

5 out of 5

The Great Dictator (1940)

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2009 #31
Charles Chaplin | 120 mins | DVD | PG* / G

One of the great things about doing 100 Films in a Year has been the number of firsts it’s either led me to or just been there to document: my first time watching films on Blu-ray and via legal download; my first time seeing films from directors as diverse as Woody Allen, Akira Kurosawa, F.W. Murnau and Krzysztof Kieslowski; my first time viewing such notable works as Breathless, Brief Encounter, Chinatown, Taxi Driver, This is Spinal Tap, The Wizard of Oz, and many more — including my first time seeing Citizen Kane. And here’s another for the list: my first ever Charlie Chaplin film.

The Great Dictator is one of Chaplin’s most widely-known films thanks to setting its sights on the Nazi regime and Adolf Hitler in particular. The general perception of silent comedians like Chaplin immediately suggests slapstick, but the real-world targets here make his work (on this film at least) satirical as well. I’m sure this made for great propaganda when it was released just a year into the war, but Chaplin’s skill and accuracy mean it works beyond that: like all good impersonations or spoofs it doesn’t make its objects silly for no reason, but instead takes what’s inherently laughable about them and exploits it. This would age some satirical humour, reliant as it can be on topicality, but the wide awareness even a modern audience has of Hitler means there are no comprehension problems today.

The style of humour can date nonetheless, but The Great Dictator remains funny — arguably the real test of a good comedy. It might not be to everyone’s taste, but that’s a problem comedy faces whenever it’s made. Chaplin loads the film with inventive and timeless routines, like the upside-down-plane, the coin-in-the-pudding, or the classic dance with an inflatable globe. Sometimes with comedy from decades previous, there’s the feeling you’re watching something that was funny at the time but no longer actually makes you laugh, thanks to changed conventions and expectations. For me, at least, there was no such problem here.

Surprisingly, there are some serious scenes too. While it doesn’t outweigh the comedy, there’s a degree of semi-factual drama in the plot that’s been well judged to help the humour cut deeper. The closing speech could come across as overly propagandistic but, again, it’s well pitched and therefore more galvanizing than inappropriately laughable. There are some bits, like this, that are sadly just as applicable to the modern world.

Chaplin allegedly said he wouldn’t have made The Great Dictator if he knew how bad things really were under Hitler, though some dispute this, arguing he knew and made it regardless. Some bits are slightly uncomfortable when one knows the reality, but whether Chaplin knew the truth or not these moments are fleeting. And, either way, Hitler and the Nazis were a worthwhile target: laughing at those who attempt to terrorise and dominate us is one of the most powerful weapons we have against them. That, certainly, is still true today.

5 out of 5

* For reasons known only unto the BBFC, The Great Dictator was classified U until 2003, when film and video reclassifications both made it a PG. ^

Solaris (2002)

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2009 #13
Steven Soderbergh | 94 mins | DVD | 12 / PG-13

SolarisWhen Andrei Tarkovsky adapted Stanislaw Lem’s thoughtful science fiction novel in 1972, it took 165 minutes. When Steven Soderbergh did it 30 years later, it took just over 90. Lem hated them both, stating that he didn’t write about people’s “erotic problems in space”, but for those concerned with what the film is about rather than what it (perhaps) should have been about, it seems that an abbreviated running time is no barrier to loading any adaptation of Solaris with a weighty thoughtfulness.

Everyone knows Solaris is a sci-fi film — the title sounds that way, for one thing, and George Clooney in a space helmet on the cover certainly does the rest. It’s a shame that’s so well known, because if one came to this version cold it would take a good few minutes before there was any inkling it wasn’t just a drama. The underplaying of the scientific elements may have angered Lem, but Soderbergh uses them to create a backdrop to the emotional story he wants to tell — Solaris the sentient planet was the point of the novel, as far as Lem was concerned, whereas to Soderbergh it’s a device to explore relationships and grief.

In doing this the film merrily mixes genres: it looks very much like it’s Science Fiction, all futuristic TVs and space station settings, and there are a few scientific concepts touched on; but it’s also a Romance, occasionally; and a Drama about coping with death, amongst other things; and an ‘arthouse’ film about notions of God and memory and reality and humanity; and there’s a huge chunk of Mystery in what the hell is going on; and there are a couple of moments that wouldn’t be out of place in a Horror film… About the only conventions Soderbergh doesn’t bother with belong to Action-Adventure, which as the normal stomping ground of big-name sci-fi certainly makes for a change.

It’s likely this that explains its low rating on IMDb and the like. A slow pace and obtuse storytelling that leaves plenty of gaps for the audience to fill is not the experience implied by an advertising campaign showing a Space Movie starring Movie Star Heartthrob George Clooney. Obviously it doesn’t fulfill these expectations, and will likely have still been too slow and difficult for even more viewers. (As it makes for a slow hour-and-a-half, I wonder how they would feel if told there’s a version over an hour longer.) The question is, does it also deserve such a low rating from those ‘clever’ or accepting enough to ‘get’ it? That depends on your perspective. It’s either Deep and Meaningful, or a bit Pretentious and Pointless. In this respect it’s highly reminiscent of The Fountain (or, rather, The Fountain is reminiscent of Solaris) — an unusual sci-fi/romance angle, slow pace, and ambiguous to the last. As one character says, “there are no answers, only choices.”

Soderbergh’s direction, plus the performances of Clooney and Natasha McElhone on which the film relies, do have the power to hold you, but only if you’re prepared for — and, more importantly, open to — the sort of experience Solaris offers. Undoubtedly not for everyone.

4 out of 5

The Lunch Date (1990)

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2009 #9a
Adam Davidson | 10 mins | DVD

Short films are paid minimal attention by most people, but a good one can launch a career. Take this, for example, which won the Short Film Palme d’Or at Cannes in 1990 and the Oscar for Best Live Action Short in 1991. Writer/director Davidson may not have had a significant film career since, but he has directed episodes of Dexter, Deadwood, Grey’s Anatomy, Law & Order, Lie to Me, Lost, Rome, Shark, Six Feet Under, True Blood, and more. Not all great TV, true, but there are some outstanding series in there and it makes for an impressive CV.

If any short were to kick-start a career it would be The Lunch Date. As with many shorts, to attempt to describe the plot would be to give too much away, which would be a mistake because this is a beautifully shot (in grainy black & white) and performed tale with a distinct, yet subtle, character arc and an important, but not over-egged, moral message. There’s virtually no dialogue, everything conveyed by what Davidson does (and, importantly, doesn’t) show and the performances, particularly that of Scotty Bloch as the central Lady.

Some of the film’s power rests in a neat twist, cunningly obscured by intelligent blocking and timing of other plot elements. Personally I saw it coming, but that didn’t diminish its point. It’s also worth nothing that none of the twenty-or-so others I was watching with spotted the twist ahead of time and they all seemed to find it even more effective.

Why short films are ignored is a discussion for another time, but The Lunch Date is an outstanding example of why they shouldn’t be.

5 out of 5

The Lunch Date is available on the Cinema16: American Short Films DVD.

In 2013 it was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant”.