Serpico (1973)

Posted on October 29, 2012 by badblokebob

2012 #30
Sidney Lumet | 125 mins | TV | 1.85:1 | Italy & USA / English | 18 / R

Before Murder on the Orient Express or Dog Day Afternoon, Sidney Lumet directed this true story about a New York cop battling corruption.

Noting it’s a true story, it certainly has a biographical feel. That came as a bit of a surprise, to me at least — I was expecting a thriller about a good cop exposing the corrupt ones, but instead got Frank Serpico’s life story from the time he left training on. It’s not as if it just deals with his professional career — say, showing how his early days formed his moral compass, or something — there’s lots of screen time devoted to his personal relationships too, which may or may not have been relevant to his work. More than a corrupt cop thriller, it’s a biopic about someone involved in that world.

This focus on reality begs one question: just how much is it based in the truth? It makes an uncommonly high claim to reality by including all this near-extraneous detail, but typically “true life” stories, especially those made quickly after the real events, fictionalise things for one reason or another. It wouldn’t matter if it didn’t effect the quality of the film, but I think it does: it feels a bit sloppy at times; kind of disjointed. The timeline jumps forward almost at random; things occasionally seem to go by half explained; there’s no clear throughline… This all plays into the feeling of it being like real life, where nothing — certainly not a police investigation — is as simple or straightforward as it’s usually made out to be for the movies. Which has its pros and its cons.

As the titular copper, it’s a typically strong performance from Al Pacino. Not his best work — I don’t think the part really gives him enough to deliver that — but he’s more often than not the most engaging element of the film. This was his fifth film; considering The Godfather was just his third, and he followed this up with Part II and Dog Day Afternoon, it’s easy to see why he’s long been regarded as a Great Actor.

I feel like Serpico used to come up fairly often as a minor classic; the kind of film not a lot of people have seen these days but many more should have; but I don’t feel like I hear it mentioned any more. Obviously this is just a perception and maybe it’s a load of rubbish, but I’m afraid I side a little more with the latter-day less-mentioned side of things.

I would say it feels rather worthy, at least in part for the things I’ve mentioned about its claims to truth. It’s an interesting, sometimes compelling film, but I wouldn’t say I enjoyed or liked it. “Enjoy” is an awkward word — you wouldn’t typically say you “enjoy” Schindler’s List, but you do (you could say) enjoy its greatness. I didn’t enjoy Serpico in the way you would typically say you enjoyed something; nor did I enjoy it in a Schindler’s List way; nor did I really admire it, again for the reasons levelled above. But it has elements of interest nonetheless.

Stepping Out (1991)

Posted on October 23, 2012 by badblokebob

Lewis Gilbert is the director of You Only Live Twice, The Spy Who Loved Me, Moonraker, Alfie, Educating Rita and Shirley Valentine — eclectic is an understatement! Here he works more in line with the latter two, telling the tale of a small amateur dance glass, mostly populated by middle-aged women, trained by a former big-stage wannabe (Liza Minnelli), who are invited to perform at a large local dance revue.

Adapted from his own play by Richard Harris (not that one), it’s easy to imagine how this had theatrical origins: it’s all about performance and the stage, for one thing, and there’s a focus on character and dialogues that feels vaguely stage-derived. Which is in no way to say they’ve failed in translating it to the screen — if you didn’t know its roots, I don’t think you’d be tempted to guess. The action is expanded, with many scenes taking place outside of the group’s rehearsal room (where I believe the entirety of the play took place), and Lewis knows his way behind a camera, so we’re not stuck with stagey blocking.

Obviously the film has an overarching plot, but it’s not really where the focus lies; it’s more an occasionally-vague long-term goal, the preparations for which are spotlighted in a couple of rehearsal scenes. Though Minnelli is ostensibly the star and lead, many of the others are given a not-unfair chunk of screen time too. So with a moderately large cast and the throughline almost a subplot itself, the film occasionally feels like a collection of subplots bolted together. It’s a form that can work, and here it passes well enough.

The standout from the cast is probably Julie Walters, in a relatively early big-screen role. Considering how well-known she is now she seems quite lowly billed and little-featured, but bearing in mind this is a US production from the early ’90s, it’s less surprising. She’s very good (isn’t she always?) as the group’s newest member, a posh English lady who sticks her oar in and is a bit too blunt with her comments. I seem to remember her generating most of the laughs in this comedy-drama, although that’s not to disparage anyone else’s work.

Stepping Out is what some people would call a Woman’s Film, exactly as patronisingly as that sounds. It’s not entirely female — there’s a male member of the group (though one might argue he’s a little camp), and a git of a boyfriend — but, without meaning to come over as patronising myself, you can tell they were aiming for a female audience. Which doesn’t mean men can’t enjoy it, obviously.

For either gender, I think it remains a fairly lightweight but entertaining little tale. It’s not likely to illuminate you in any way, or make you roar with laughter, and it’s not even a shining light in the group-of-underdogs-who-think-they-can’t-prove-they-can sub-genre, but it’s a pleasant way to spend a couple of hours for those who like this kind of thing.

War Horse (2011)

Posted on October 20, 2012 by badblokebob

After decades telling tales from the Second World War, Spielberg moves back a conflict. That said, the BD’s special features make sure to point out this “is not his First World War movie” — it’s just a good tale about a boy and his horse.

Based on the children’s novel by Michael Morpurgo, plus the 2000 stage adaptation that inspired Spielberg to make the film, War Horse follows Joey, a thoroughbred born in 1910s Devon, and his loving owner, Alby. When their farm faces tough times, Alby’s father sells Joey to the army as the Great War starts, initiating a trot across Britain and France that takes in both sides of the conflict over the course of the war.

It might be best to define the film as an epic. It’s a relatively intimate one, focusing in on a handful of characters at a time rather than cutting back and forth between various groups, but the way it does move along several sets of characters, across varied locations, and through a lengthy stretch of time, all command a feeling of a grand story. The special features are right in that it’s not really the story of the war, but what it does show is something of the experience of living through that war, and of the humanity that was still present within it.

I imagine some would level accusations of implausibility, but stranger things have happened in the real world than much of what we witness here. Take a late-occurring scene of British-German co-operation in No Man’s Land, for instance — surely two sides at war would never work together! Well, this is the same war that saw the opposing sides play a football match on Christmas Day, remember? It can’t be denied that there’s factual inaccuracy here (the climax takes place at the Somme in the lead up to Armistice Day in 1918, but that battle was actually fought in 1916), or the occasional heavy dose of sentimentality (it’s directed by Spielberg and co-penned by Richard Curtis — what did you expect?), but I think it carries through these with a scale and heart that is, primarily, entertaining. It is based on a children’s novel and I think aims to be a family film (it should by rights be a PG; my twitter rant on that subject is here), but Morpurgo knows when to treat his audience with respect and at points it certainly doesn’t shy away from the harshnesses of the period.

Similarly, the way the horses are handled seems pretty much spot on. They’re not anthropomorphised, but they definitely develop characters and personality as we follow them throughout the film. Naturally most of the focus falls on the human characters, what with them being the ones who can talk and all that, but Joey is the only character we follow throughout the movie and we’re led to relate to him and his story in a believable way. And I say this as someone who’s not a horsey person. Spielberg reportedly found it tough working with real horses, struggling to get performances from them that matched what he’d seen on stage — unsurprisingly, as those were puppets controlled by well trained and rehearsed humans. Nevertheless, however they went about it (and it was with very minimal use of puppets or CGI), the “horse acting” is solid.

Aiding the sense of the epic is Janusz Kaminski’s cinematography, which is regularly stunning and definitely one of the film’s standout achievements. The beauty of some shots is immediately obvious — he lenses the countryside idyll of Dartmoor in a sweeping fashion, bathed in summer sunlight — but there are striking compositions to be found throughout, be they in close-ups, cavalry charges, horse auctions, battlefield hospitals… There’s often a lovely texture to things too, from the likes of drifting snow or chaff, or the way light streaks across a room. The final scene, fully tinted orange, calls to mind the likes of Gone With the Wind, I presume with full consciousness.

Less remarkable is John Williams’ score. It’s not bad per se, and has its moments, but other times it’s either forgettable or forced (some of the early comical bits are horribly overplayed with whimsical plinky-plonking). For all that, a memorable sequence you’ve surely seen in the trailers — when Joey runs over and through the trenches — is perfectly scored, recalling the action/adventure movie grandeur we all primarily remember Williams for.

As I marked my viewing of War Horse on various websites, it struck me how many negative comments there were. I thoroughly disagree. Not everything has to offer gritty realism, even when it’s dealing with horrendous times and events. Morpurgo, Spielberg and co have conjured a sweeping tale of friendship and humanity in the face of adversity; one that isn’t afraid to depict some of the nastier realities of the world, but in a way that makes them relatable for a younger audience. I think that’s important; but this isn’t a Worthy Film for that, it’s just something it does well. I think it also nails sensations of adventure and, yes, sentimentality.

I think it’s a bit of an epic, with all that connotes, and I love a bit of an epic.

War Horse is on Sky Movies Premiere twice daily until Thursday.

It placed 2nd on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2012, which can be read in full here.

Gnomeo & Juliet (2011)

Posted on October 12, 2012 by badblokebob

Gnomeo & Juliet is the latest British attempt to crack the lucrative CGI animated kids’ movie market, after the lack of success (or, alternatively, failure) from the likes of Flushed Away and that one about the carrier pigeon whose name escapes me (after a quick IMDBing, it’s Valiant). Finally, this one seems to have been more of a success… perhaps because it was backed by Elton John, released by Disney (under Touchstone), and helmed by the co-director of Shrek 2.

The obvious high-concept — Romeo and Juliet, with gnomes! — is the kind of thing that will tickle you or set you screaming with rage (or possibly just tutting with contempt). If the latter, your mileage will vary on how charming it is to win you over; if the former, “tickled” is about the level the film operates at. It pulls off a couple of nice jokes, mainly around the fact it stars garden gnomes, and it plays with your expectations towards the end, but it’s pretty forgettable — I know there were some bits that made me chuckle, but I can’t actually remember any of them now. It’s also stuffed with recognisable British voices, making it quite fun for anyone who (like me) likes to play Spot The Famous Voice.

My only other note is that it ends with a truly awful cover of Crocodile Rock by Nelly Furtado. A storyboarded “all’s well that ends well” ending (included on the BD, and the DVD for all I know) looks much better.

Gnomeo & Juliet is more amiable than its “oh, you didn’t” title might suggest, but that’s about all. Shakespeare certainly has nothing to worry about.

Unknown (2011)

Posted on October 4, 2012 by badblokebob

Following the surprise success of Taken, Liam Neeson again finds himself in action man mode as an American caught up in a Europe-set thriller. This time he’s some kind of scientist travelling to a conference with his wife, when he’s caught in a car accident. Managing to return to the hotel, he finds his wife doesn’t know him and there’s someone else who says they are him…

As premises go it’s an intriguing one; the kind of thing that gets you on board and you have no idea how they might satisfactorily resolve. That makes a change when most films, especially thriller and action movies, play out a string of interchangeable but familiar beats. In the film’s special features, producer Leonard Goldberg talks about how, having made thrillers his whole life, when he starts reading or watching them he can usually figure it all out early on, but the novel on which Unknown is based managed to surprise him. Thinking if it could surprise him it might surprise others too, he snapped up the rights, and I must say I think he was right. Additional kudos to the distributors for keeping any hint of those twists out of the marketing — a rare feat these days. (Well, if they were there, I didn’t pick up on them.)

That said, it’s all a bit implausible, but I suppose no worse than many other entries in the action-thriller genre. It’s only the fairly realistic setup that throws you off the scent — if you were aware of developments from the post-twist third act, and therefore the tone that pitches, the whole thing would be more acceptable from the outset. I’ve seen other reviews and viewer comments criticise this ending, but personally I thought that was when it got good, kicking into a higher gear and retrospectively making the iffy earlier bits make a lot more sense. Plus it’s where you’ll find some of what the film does best: Frank Langella turning up briefly for one great scene with YouTube’s Hitler (aka Bruno Ganz) and a cool exit; a really good car chase; and a couple of solid punch-ups, including a particularly good one at the climax.

This variability left me torn as to rating — and, more importantly, what that rating is used as a signifier for: an overall impression of the film. I was thinking 3 for most of it — a passable if occasionally plodding identity thriller with a mite too much coincidence and believability-stretching. But the impressively and pleasurably unforeseen twist casts the entire movie in a new light, and for the enjoyment that gave I’m tempted up towards a 4. In the end, maybe the answer lies in your view of how to judge a movie’s quality: is it how you felt towards it as it played out, or is it looking back at the totality of the experience afterwards? Both are valid approaches, and in the majority of films would probably result in the same opinion. But some films have a changes-everything-you’ve-seen twist, and by changing everything you’ve seen it might change your opinion; it would certainly change your experience on any subsequent viewings. Unknown certainly has one of those twists.

The other way, the way that makes all criticism an art rather than a science, is in how you feel. While I was unconvinced for much of the running time, the surprises turned Unknown into a flawed but enjoyable film that has appeal to any fan of a good thriller. That might merit an extra star; stick with it and you might even agree; but thinking back on it a while later, the earlier parts overshadow things. Maybe a second viewing would change my opinion, but for now it feels like 3.

The Falcon Takes Over (1942)

Posted on September 8, 2012 by badblokebob

2012 #70
Irving Reis | 60 mins | TV | 4:3 | USA / English | PG*

Quite outside of the Falcon film series, this third entry is notable for being the first screen adaptation of a Raymond Chandler novel. Ditching Chandler’s then-unknown Philip Marlowe in favour of the Falcon in the lead role, this is a version of the character’s second mystery, Farewell, My Lovely — which would be adapted straight just two years later. And they say things get remade quickly nowadays.

Maybe it’s just because I knew, but The Falcon Takes Over does feel like a Chandler tale. But then of his original work I’ve only read and seen The Big Sleep, so maybe it’s just passingly like that. Still, there’s something in the intricacy of plotting and the kind of settings it inhabits that is either coincidentally like The Big Sleep or is Chandleresque.

Story aside, this is otherwise much the same as the other Falcon films. Sanders is a bit Saint-like while not being quite as good; there are several women for him to fawn over, including a coda where a new one turns up to attract his attention away from this film’s main dame; the police are bumbling comedy extras; as is sidekick Goldie…

As usual, it doesn’t have the same je ne sais quoi that makes the Saint films particularly entertaining (yeah, you know I mean wit); and I can well believe it has “none of the atmosphere of Chandler’s book”; and that it lacks the quality of the second film adaptation, an acknowledged film noir classic (which I really should see). But for those faults, it’s still a good yarn reasonably well told.

* As with the vast majority of the Falcon series, The Falcon Takes Over hasn’t been passed by the BBFC since its original release. Nonetheless, it’s available on DVD, rated PG. ^

The Gay Falcon (1941)

Posted on September 8, 2012 by badblokebob

2012 #68
Irving Reis | 64 mins | TV | 4:3 | USA / English | PG*

Worried about the cost of renewing the licence to popular hero the Saint, RKO instead acquired Michael Arlen’s the Falcon and essentially modelled him as a replacement, much to the chagrin of Saint creator Leslie Charteris. And who can blame him? They even cast the star of the Saint, George Sanders. Cheeky.

Charteris had grounds for his complaint, too, because you can definitely see the similarities. The Falcon is an adventurer/detective of sorts, theoretically retired at the film’s open but more than happy to be lured back into the action. He frustrates the police by being better than him (though he’s not as outright on the wrong side of the law), he has a love for the ladies (more on which in a moment), he’s never without a sidekick of some kind, and he does it all with a notional raised eyebrow.

But, for my money, the Falcon isn’t quite as endearing, despite being played by Sanders. The number of times I’ve used “wit” in my Saint reviews suggests I should get a thesaurus, but it’s the best word — the Saint is witty; not jokey or humorous, but witty. The Falcon, while nonetheless somewhat charming, doesn’t exude the same kind of charisma or, indeed, wit. He’s a more obvious womaniser, with much of the film’s humour coming from him trying to juggle multiple dames, without much success at keeping them secret from each other, and his general inability to stop his eye roving for even a moment. On the bright side, it stops him from being as much of a Saint clone as I’d feared.

The story (the only one in the series adapted from a work by Arlen) is a solid mystery about jewellery thieves, which doesn’t seem to have quite the scale of the Saint films. Those were often contained to one city, but they felt somehow grander, like the schemes being foiled were of broad significance; here, it’s basically work for the police. To put it another way, if there was always the sensation that the Saint was an anterior James Bond, you could say the Falcon is more like Sherlock Holmes.

The problem all these hour-long thrillers seem to have is there’s a lack of time to establish a cadre of suspects, meaning the surprise villain is usually the only character who isn’t one of the heroes — heck, sometimes the cast is so small the ‘twist’ is it’s the only hero it couldn’t not have been. The short length might not seem much of an excuse considering plenty of TV drama does a whodunnit every week in 40 minutes, but then this is 70 years old. And besides, they’re not really whodunnits, they’re 70-years-ago’s equivalent of the comedy-action-thriller, and on that level they generally work. Besides, here there is a fairly good last minute twist. There still aren’t many suspects, but considering two-time Saint villainess Wendy Barrie is present, it works well enough.

The Gay Falcon makes for solid enough entertainment, mixing thrills with humour to decent effect. But despite attempts to emulate it, not least with the same leading man and woman, it’s no the Saint — they’ve not injected Gay Laurence with quite the same way with words and the supporting cast lacks a Teal or ‘Pearly’ Gates type to really make it click. Whether future entries stray further from Arlen’s original and more into Saint territory, or not, remains to be seen.

* Much like many of the Saint films, The Gay Falcon apparently hasn’t been passed by the BBFC since its original release. Nonetheless, it’s available on DVD, rated PG. ^

Make/Remake: The Spiral Staircases

Posted on August 30, 2012 by badblokebob

The Spiral Staircase (1945)

and

The Spiral Staircase (2000)

The Spiral Staircase started life as a 1933 novel titled Some Must Watch. Written by Ethel Lina White (who’s perhaps most notable for having also penned The Wheel Spins which became Hitchcock’s The Lady Vanishes), Some Must Watch is set on the Welsh border in the then-present day. In response to a recent spate of murders, the residents of a Victorian mansion are locked in one dark and stormy night — but is the killer among them?

Both of these adaptations keep the basic story of Some Must Watch, though one updates it to turn-of-the-century New England and the other to turn-of-the-millennium… somewhere (it was shot in Canada), and the latter adds a massive preamble and romance subplot. And apparently they both add the titular staircase. I’ve never read the novel so can’t comment on either of these as adaptations, but in comparison to each other one is vastly superior. The ’40s film is an atmospheric Gothic-noir treat, while the ’00s remake is a cheap TV movie that aspires to be little more than trashy romance welded on TV-friendly ’90s slasher movie. Risible.

For my full thoughts on each, please click through:

The good one is on BBC Two tomorrow, Friday 31st August, at 12:50pm. Record it and watch it on a dark and stormy night.

The Spiral Staircase (2000)

Posted on August 30, 2012 by badblokebob

2012 #49
James Head | 88 mins | TV | 1.33:1 | USA / English

A couple of years ago I discovered the ’40s Gothic noir thriller The Spiral Staircase, an exceedingly enjoyable film that I would heartily encourage you to see. It’s been remade twice: first a British effort in the ’70s, then this turn-of-the-millennium US TV movie. I find remakes immensely interesting — they’re almost always reviled, but that doesn’t mean they’re all bad; and even when they are, they can be interesting as an indication of what one era thought was a good idea for updating (or not) something originally made in a different time. The ’00s Spiral Staircase is definitely one of the bad ones, but if you want a snapshot of ’90s (not a typo) US TV movies, it’s bang on.

I believe it was made for a Women’s Network in the States, and it feels like an adaptation of one of those doorstop-sized airport romance paperbacks that I imagine are their stock in trade. (In fairness to doorstop-sized airport romances and the novel from which all versions of The Spiral Staircase stem, I’ve never read either.) Despite the implications of an “X months ago” prologue in which someone is followed by a spooky pair of eyes (presumably a whole person, but we only see the eyes), the first half is more cheap, tacky, romance-of-the-week TV movie than serial killer thriller.

The second half tries harder, seeing a bunch of potential victims locked in an island mansion, cut off by a terrible storm, and then finds reasons to have them wander back and forth around the place until they start being bumped off for no particular reason. This half isn’t necessarily good, but it has more atmosphere and more excitement, if not any more originality, even while contriving ways to divide its characters.

There are about three suspects in the entire tale. One is so clearly being set up from the off that you know it can’t be him; one barely even registers as a suspect; and it’s not the third one. But the film doesn’t pull off a twist because the attempt (by dragging that middle character back into it) comes so out of the blue as to make no sense. They don’t even bother to try to explain it properly! It’s about the only time the film holds back on painful over-exposition, and it’s about the only time it needs it. Either way, it’s not the same as the original film’s, and it’s not as good.

Every character is a cliché: the sweet new girl, the stern housekeeper, the drunk cook, the no-nonsense bed-ridden matriarch, the intelligent brother who stayed behind to look after mother, the playboy brother who only comes home when he needs a loan, his latest gold-digging floozy… The performances don’t help. As the mute heroine, Nicollette Sheridan only has her facial expressions to work with, and they don’t seem to change; she’s also at least a decade too old for the part. As her love interest, former Brat Packer Judd Nelson is awfully wooden. The rest of the cast are various degrees of adequate.

Head’s direction is flat and cheap, which I suppose is exactly what you’d expect from a late-’90s cable TV movie. The sequence where a character stumbles across the titular staircase is quite atmospheric, given added creepiness by it featuring about the only character whose fate doesn’t seem inevitable, but that’s all. Even given a storm in a house with no power, the only atmosphere generated is that which such a situation offers by default.

The original story is clearly suited to a Gothic historical setting (the ’40s film didn’t keep the novel’s time period, but it chose one similar enough), but that doesn’t mean a modern-set rendition isn’t without potential. Or maybe it is — it’s hard to be certain from a movie that certainly doesn’t realise what potential there may be. Yet for all its countless weaknesses, I can’t quite bring myself to entirely despise it. Can I really give this wholly derivative remake 2 stars? It may be some kind of Stockholm Syndrome — after 90 minutes with it, I can’t help but find some point in it all; some thing to like.

But no, it’s woeful; and unless you have a fondness for romance-focused late-’90s US cable TV movies, or for seeing just how remakes have changed things (like me… the second, that is, not the first), then I recommend you stay clear.

The 1945 version of The Spiral Staircase is on BBC Two tomorrow, Friday 31st August, at 12:50pm. You can read my review here.

The Spiral Staircase featured on my list of The Five Worst Films I Saw in 2012, which can be read in full here.

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)

Posted on August 28, 2012 by badblokebob

2012 #24
Peter Weir | 133 mins | TV | 2.35:1 | USA / English | 12 / PG-13

There are a few Oscar nominees from the ’00s that inspire little desire in me to bother seeing them (I’m certain that’s completely true of every era, but I’ve seen most of the ’00s nominees so I tend to focus on them more often), meaning it’s taking me a very long time to get round to them (maybe I never will). Master and Commander isn’t really one of those — it’s no Seabiscuit or In the Bedroom — but I can’t say a naval inaction film with Russell Crowe held massive appeal. Turns out I was completely wrong.

For starters, it’s definitely not an “inaction” movie. It’s not an action movie in the regularly understood sense of non-stop fights on varying scales, but there are a few stunningly realised naval battles, and other exciting sequences as the hero ship either tries to keep track of or elude their enemy. That’s essentially the film’s plot — one ship after another — and the long chase (they rarely have each other in direct sight) gives it an epic feel, as they chase an almost phantom ship, rather than engaging in regular heated battles.

There’s lots of good detail about what it would be like to live that life, woven in and around the plot. I’m sure this thoroughly thrilled maritime enthusiasts (assuming it’s all accurate), but for those of us whose interests lie elsewhere it still provides a vivid picture. It’s not so much a character picture, although the nature of Russell Crowe’s Captain is surely revealed in the way he goes about his tactics and the nature of his various relationships with various crewmen. Paul Bettany, as the ship’s doctor, is more our point of view: he’s not a naval man and doesn’t always understand their traditions. He’s not a crass audience-cipher in the way such parts often can be, but it does make him identifiable.

This is also the first movie ever to film on the Galapagos Islands, featuring it in an extended sequence in which Bettany — who also happens to be a keen amateur whatever-ist — ventures onto the island to collect specimens of the strange and unusual creatures they see as they sail past. Bettany would later play Darwin in 2009’s Creation, which lends this stuff some kind of odd intertextual significance in retrospect. While it’s an interesting aside from the story — an unusual kind of diversion — it is nonetheless an aside, and perhaps kills some of the momentum. On the other hand, along with some earlier sequences of trading with natives, it lends the film a feel of exploration, of an era when parts of the world — and the people and creatures that inhabited them — were still being discovered, even just by common sailors.

It looks like too many people felt as I did and didn’t turn out to see Master and Commander in big enough numbers: it opened at #2 in the US, grossing just $93.9m on a budget of $150m. It managed $212m total worldwide, but when you consider marketing costs… It was clearly considered quite a pricey proposition, considering it was, unusually, produced and/or released by 20th Century Fox, Universal and Miramax (that makes for a strangely bizarre array of company logos at the start). Despite the fact it’s based on a series of 20 (completed) books, and various people involved have mentioned the possibility down the years, a sequel is so unlikely it seems silly calling it just “unlikely”. And that’s a shame, because this is an entertaining action-drama with likeable characters and an engrossing atmosphere. A little to my surprise, I loved it.

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World placed 3rd on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2012, which can be read in full here.

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