Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2005)

Posted on May 7, 2013 by badblokebob

This review contains major spoilers.

The fourth Harry Potter film is the pivot around which the series revolves, in oh so many ways. Most obviously, it’s book 4 of 7 — the halfway point. It’s also where the books switch from short ‘children’s novel’ lengths to the huge tomes they eventually became. More importantly, it’s the instalment on which the overarching plot of the entire series hangs. Although each previous entry in the Potter canon contributed something to the mythology (even if sometimes its significance wouldn’t become apparent until much later), they’re still viewable as discrete adventures. So too is Goblet of Fire, for the most part — the exception being its final act, which kicks off the story that will consume the rest of the series.

The film is no less of a turning point, for its own reasons. Note that this is when the films’ marketing began to emphasise the ageing of the actors: the teaser trailer begins with shots of Harry, Ron and Hermione from each of the four films; the promotional TV specials go behind the scenes not only on the new film but also its predecessors; clearly substantial retrospective interviews were conducted too: watch the Creating the World of Harry Potter: The Magic Begins documentary on the Philosopher’s Stone Ultimate Edition and it tells the story of the films’ birth by mixing interviews not only from the sets of the first film and the ‘now’ of the final film’s production, but also in costumes and on sets from the fourth movie.

It makes sense: at this point the series was moving beyond your stock franchise length of “trilogy” and into less frequently charted waters, amid speculation that the leads would be recast. With Goblet of Fire being the last point you could reasonably pull that off, I imagine it paid to emphasise that these were the same kids — that we see a cast age in more-or-less real time throughout their childhood, including many small supporting roles as well as the leads, is one of the Potter films’ more unique highlights.

The other big behind-the-scenes decision was one of length. As noted, this is the first Potter story to explode from a short children’s tale, which could be adapted in full in two-and-a-half to three hours, to a lengthy novel that would require masses of time to cover in full. Considerations of spreading it across two films were reportedly dismissed when director Mike Newell promised he could do it in one, essentially by cutting subplots and extraneous material — much as Alfonso Cuarón had on Prisoner of Azkaban, but on a grander scale. (Imagine if they hadn’t made that choice: instead of eight films, the Potter series would have sprawled to 11 instalments!) The result of such editing here is a very direct film, rattling through its plot — even with stuff cut, there’s still a lot of story to cover.

Said story concerns two foreign schools visiting Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, a series of dangerous challenges, into which someone enters Harry against his will. It’s a nice clear through-line: a series of tasks, interspersed with investigations into who forced Harry to participate and why. It all comes to a head in one of the series’ most famous moments, the murder of Cedric Diggory. I can’t remember if Diggory’s meant to be a nice guy or an irritating jock, but here he’s played by Robert Pattinson, proving it’s not only his involvement with the Twilight franchise that makes him smug and annoying. Still, the impact of Diggory’s demise is still shocking and effective for those who don’t know it’s coming — this isn’t just a light series of children’s adventures any more. Of course, the death of a single-book supporting character is less impactful with an awareness of the franchise as a whole — there’s much worse to come, leaving this a mere opening move.

The other element that begins to creep in from this point is all the teenage romance stuff. Provoked mainly by the Yule Ball, with the guys having to pluck up courage to ask girls and dance lessons with teachers, the characters’ love lives start to become a notable factor. For all the plausibility and humour with which it’s depicted, there are times later when it will become a bit tiresome, especially in the novels. Fortunately, much of that’s internal monologue and subplot, and so goes astray here. Extra thanks to Mr Newell for that.

One of the more overlooked facets of Rowling’s work is her penchant for allegory and gentle satire. That’s understandable — they’re just Kids’ Books about magic, after all, and occasionally thuddingly written ones at that. Allegory you can take or leave (who’s really going to gain a perspective on HIV from Lupin’s struggle with lycanthropy?), but the satire is nice. Here it’s the press under fire. Rita Skeeter may have a greatly reduced role compared to the novel, but her Quick-Quotes Quill — which, essentially, just makes stuff up — is present and correct. The next tale, Order of the Phoenix, carries on this motif (the press demonise Harry), as well as setting its sights on blinkered and ineffectual government, and the evils of exam-focused impractical teachers. It’s all rather pleasing, actually, and you have to hope Potter’s millions of readers took it in and learnt something.

It’s easy to let certain events overshadow the entirety of Goblet of Fire; to subsume it into the single long narrative that arguably takes over the later stories. But though it puts broader events in motion, this is still a self-contained tale all its own — and one of the series’ most exciting at that, between storming action sequences and some effective twists. There’s a fair argument to be made that it’s the film series’ best entry.

In about a month, as I’ve already joined the Order of the Phoenix, uncovered the Half-Blood-Prince, and found both parts of the Deathly Hallows, I’ll offer an overview of the David Yates films…

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004)

Posted on May 6, 2013 by badblokebob

Prisoner of Azkaban marks a significant turning point for the Harry Potter film series. Viewed now, it’s easy to see it as just Episode 3 of 8; a saga still getting underway. At the time, coming off the back of two incredibly successful films, it felt like a grand shake-up of an established formula.

It’s the first Potter to move away from a Christmassy end-of-year release slot, for one thing, debuting at the height of summer in May. That also made it the first to break the one-per-year release cycle they seemed to be aiming for, which would’ve emulated each film covering a single year of Harry’s time at school. The release date was only 18 months after Chamber of Secrets, but it had an impact — particularly to little Draco Malfoy, who seems to have undergone the majority of puberty in the short time between the end of Chamber and the start of Azkaban. I still remember my shock when he first appeared in the trailer — I thought they’d recast.

Most striking, however, is the new director. Alfonso Cuarón doesn’t ditch the faithfulness to J.K. Rowling’s novels that defined Chris Columbus’ opening pair, but he does ditch the slavishness, and brings a hefty dose of his own stylish directorial skill in the process. Azkaban is a fan favourite among Rowling’s novels, but Cuarón’s preparedness to change things when necessary made the film more of a hate object for some. The wider world had it right, however, because Azkaban was received as the best Potter yet and, I think, was the start of its rehabilitation from a fans-only series of Children’s Films to something that merited across-the-board full marks when Deathly Hallows Part 2 arrived seven years later.

Cuarón and screenwriter Steve Kloves (who would pen every Potter film bar the fifth) focus in on the novel’s plot, ditching its copious world-building and backstory asides. This has both pros and cons. In the former camp, it leaves room for Cuarón to make something more exciting and filmic than Columbus — you can’t imagine the craziness of the Knight Bus in either of the previous films. It also keeps things moving forward, at quite a pace too, rather than meandering off here and there. Even the Quidditch match serves a purpose.

On the downside, it strips away some explanations that not only deepen the series’ world but, in some cases, help it make sense. We never learn the identity of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs (makers of the ever-so-useful Marauder’s Map), or quite why Harry thought he saw his dad by the lake with the Dementors. The former is only nice detail, I suppose, but the latter event makes much more sense when you know the full explanation from the novel. The story gets by without it, but those unfamiliar with the book who stop to think about things may consider it a plot hole, or at least a leap of logic.

The film introduces two of my favourite characters from the series: Gary Oldman’s Sirius Black and David Thewlis’ Remus Lupin. In slightly different ways they’re both outsiders — underdogs, as it were, if you’ll excuse the pun — but both honourable and powerful… but not as pompous as that poor description makes it sound. The film series doesn’t treat either of them particularly well compared to the books, but then supporting characters and subplots are the first things to go (quite rightly).

The other big cast addition is Michael Gambon, replacing Richard Harris as Hogwarts headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Gambon seemed all wrong when he first turned up, replacing the previous near-perfect casting choice. He’s more familiar now, making it harder to judge which actor is superior; but it’s difficult to imagine Harris getting to grips with some of the cheekier and more active things Dumbledore is called on to do later in the series. Was the requirement to recast a blessing in disguise? Perhaps.

Azkaban was a breath of fresh air when it was released in 2004, really kicking the Potter franchise into life creatively. I know I gave the first two four stars each, but having since watched this and Goblet of Fire, the opening episodes pale in comparison.

Tomorrow, I put my name in the Goblet of Fire…

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets: Extended Version (2002/2005)

Posted on April 23, 2013 by badblokebob

This extended cut takes the already-lengthy second instalment in the Harry Potter franchise and pushes it to nearly three hours (though if you lop off the extensive end credits it’s more like two-and-three-quarters). As with the extended version of the first film, it was originally created for the US TV premiere, then later released on the Ultimate Edition sets, and simply integrates the DVD’s deleted scenes back into the film.

The difference in running time is 13½ minutes, spread across 19 different extensions. (Per usual, a list can be found here.) As you might guess, many are short snippets, running as little as 18 seconds when viewed among the deleted scenes (and those tend to include scene-setting bits from the theatrical version and a copyright notice). Unsurprisingly, then, many are of little significance, often just fleshing out minor characters (Colin Creevey gets to tell his backstory; Justin Finch-Fletchley gets to introduce himself) or adding comedy beats (a floating cake at the Dursleys’; Crabbe and Goyle bumping into ‘themselves’).

So are any especially beneficial? Well, one fleshes out what happened to the flying car (setting up its return to save the day a few minutes later), and there are extra moments to clarify Harry’s awareness of the other students’ worries about him. There’s a bit more Lockhart, once again showing how self-centred he is (it’s surprising how little Kenneth Branagh is in the film actually, so this is welcome), and a tiny bit more Quidditch. There’s also a nod to a subplot with Filch that then doesn’t go anywhere, and one or two minor continuity errors are accidentally introduced (the most obvious is that Hermione tells Harry and Ron they’ll need to take Crabbe and Goyle’s uniforms when using the Polyjuice potion, but then in a new scene she’s stolen some).

The longest extension comes near the start, when Harry misspeaks while using Floo powder and ends up in the nasty part of Diagon Alley. In the theatrical version he just walks out of the creepy shop, but here he has to hide as Malfoys Senior and Junior enter to sell some items. Though it has the advantage of showing us how Lucius treats his son when out of sight of more respectable wizards, and possibly seeds something for later films (what is the one item Malfoy isn’t prepared to sell?), it dilutes the introduction of Jason Isaacs’ villain, which in the theatrical version came slightly later in the bookshop, where he bumps into Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys as they’re leaving Lockhart’s signing. It’s a more effective, more dramatic introduction to someone who will become a major character as the series progresses.

The film itself has held up well over the last 11 years, I think. Columbus was oft derided as a mediocre director at the time; a workmanlike filmmaker installed to simply guide the book faithfully to the screen. He’s not exactly an astounding presence behind the camera, but he’s more than adequate, and some sequences even exhibit flair. The biggest downside of the adaptation, once again screenwritten by Steve Kloves, is that it lacks tension. J.K. Rowling’s mystery-laden plot is very well constructed, but the adaptation doesn’t pay enough attention to hyping up that it is mysterious. The most glaring omission is that Ginny Weasley, so central to the denouement, barely appears until the finale. On the bright side, the lengthy running time does allow more space for all of the familiar characters to grow — particularly the three leads, who already feel considerably older than in the first film (and this in the only Potter film that was story-accurately shot exactly one year later).

There are, arguably, three notable additions to the cast this time out. The first is Lucius Malfoy who, as discussed, will come into his own later. Then there’s Gilderoy Lockhart, a preening wizard celebrity played with relish by Kenneth Branagh. He’s often very amusing and there’s not enough of him. And then there’s Dobby. Apparently Dobby is a beloved character; apparently kids really like him. I’ve always found him intensely irritating, and was surprised how much Rowling made me warm to him in Deathly Hallows. I thought that might make him more palatable at the start… but it doesn’t. He’s wonderfully realised, though — despite the age of the film, much of the CGI holds up really well.

Chamber of Secrets isn’t the best film the Harry Potter series has to offer — it lacks the introductory wonder of the first and the portentousness of later films. Viewed in isolation, it can also look like a total aside from the series’ main story arc… but, as those familiar with later events will know, there’s actually a lot of important stuff introduced (and, in some cases, dealt with) here. Whatever you think of Rowling as a writer, she did a helluva job plotting out her grand story over seven tales.

In a fortnight’s time, I aid and abet the Prisoner of Azkaban…

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: Extended Version (2001/2004)

Posted on April 22, 2013 by badblokebob

aka Harry Potter and the Bastardised American Title

Originally created for the film’s US TV premiere in May 2004, then later released on the film’s Ultimate Edition in 2009 (and not making it to the UK in HD until the Wizard’s Collection last September), this Extended Version of the first Harry Potter film adds six-and-a-half minutes of new bits and bobs to the already lengthy adaptation.

Having not seen Philosopher’s Stone for something approaching a decade, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to spot what had been added, especially when the new inclusions were so small. And, indeed, I couldn’t — but the film all seemed so very familiar. As it turns out, there’s a very easy way to find out what’s new, as well as explain why it didn’t jump out at me: look in the disc’s deleted scenes section.

Included on the film’s original DVD release back in 2002, albeit under a series of frustrating mini-games, were six short deleted sequences and one extended one. I owned that DVD, and I found and watched those scenes… and it’s those and those alone that were added back into the film in 2004. I suppose that’s unsurprising really — they were fully mastered, and presumably if there’d been any more (or any more Chris Columbus was prepared for viewers to see) they would’ve been included on the DVD too. (If you own the US Ultimate Edition or any version of the Wizard’s Collection, the scenes can now be found in HD on the special features Blu-ray.)

So what’s new? A couple of snippets of the Dursleys, a bit with Harry and Hagrid on the way to Diagon Alley, an extended scene in Snape’s first class, an extra beat with the three leads after they defeat the troll in the bathroom, an introspective moment at Christmas, and a fuller version of the kids finally discovering who Nicholas Flamel is. (See all of that with pictures here.) Are any of these of great consequence? Not really. I presume the first three were cut to get to Hogwarts that bit quicker, while the classroom scene displays a petulance from Harry that isn’t entirely in keeping with how he’s been presented to that point. The others were, I suppose, sacrifices for time and pace, though as they’re so short in such a long film, they hardly make a mark.

As for the film itself, it holds up surprisingly well after 12 years and seven increasingly-dark follow-ups. The child actors aren’t that bad, all things considered; the adult cast are a constant delight; the CGI looks surprisingly good (some digital stunt doubles notwithstanding); John Seale’s cinematography looks gorgeously film-like on Blu-ray (especially when you take a look in some of the documentaries that merrily mix clips from all the films — Half-Blood Prince in particular looks like a horrendous mess of OTT digital post-production).

At the time Philosopher’s Stone received criticism for journeyman directing from Columbus and a too-faithful adaptation of Rowling’s novel. Ironically, one of the top threads on IMDb’s forum for the film now complains that it’s not faithful enough. The truth is closer to the former than the latter, but that doesn’t make it a bad film. True, it may struggle to convert those new to the world of Potter, and perhaps a Lord of the Rings-style brisk theatrical version followed by a more extensive and faithful Extended Edition would’ve been the way to go… but whereas every film of any quality can get such treatment these days, that wasn’t common practice back at the turn of the millennium (unless your name was Ridley Scott), so the filmmakers can’t be blamed for not doing it. As it stands, I think they mostly struck a fair balance between fidelity and the fact it’s an adaptation. Similarly, Columbus’ direction is rarely exemplary, but it’s competent with some memorable moments.

Even if the Extended Version makes little difference (even for fans it couldn’t be described as essential), I still enjoyed revisiting Philosopher’s Stone. It marks the beginning of an attempt to re-watch the entire saga over eight consecutive weeks, which will hopefully be both fun and interesting — already, I’m spotting links and connections to later events that wouldn’t have been apparent when first viewing the film. Harry Potter isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I think they’re an entertaining, well-put-together series of fantasy adventures. Plus, as child-driven worldwide media phenomena of the 21st Century go, it’s the only one I can think of that isn’t offensively awful.

Tomorrow, I open the Chamber of Secrets…

Stiff Upper Lips (1998)

Posted on April 18, 2013 by badblokebob

2012 #96
Gary Sinyor | 91 mins | TV | 4:3 | UK & India / English | 15 / R

Spoof of British ‘Heritage’ films and TV series, particularly the work of Merchant Ivory. It was probably a bit belated: released in 1998, you’ll note most targets are from the ’80s. It only even made it to TV recently (I watched on Radio Times’ recommendation). Specific targets include Brideshead Revisited and A Room with a View, with individual sequences riffing off the likes of Chariots of Fire and Orlando.

A mite sex obsessed — though, arguably, that’s only highlighting the original works’ undertones, so in that respect makes fair mockery. At worst, however, it feels like American Pie in period dress.

In the interests of completing my ever-growing backlog of reviews, I decided to post some ‘drabble reviews’ of a few films. In the future I may update with something longer, but if I don’t, at least there’s something here for posterity.

For those unfamiliar with the concept, a drabble is a complete piece of writing exactly 100 words long.

Prometheus (2012)

Posted on March 29, 2013 by badblokebob

With all the furore this week over the (supposed) behind-the-scenes problems with attempts to launch Prometheus 2, it’s about time I posted my review of last year’s intended franchise-starter…

Ridley Scott’s not-an-Alien-prequel-honest Alien prequel is nothing if not divisive, with critics and fans alike declaring it to be a revelatory masterpiece, irredeemable faux-profound slop, and every point on the spectrum in between. I did my best to remain spoiler-free throughout the four months between its theatrical release and disc debut (crikey things reach DVD quickly these days!), though I did read a leaked plot description in advance that was reportedly decried as rubbish. I wish I could remember where I found it because I’d love to know if it matches up. Sadly I can’t remember the details, but obviously something stuck — and therefore it was right — because I was singularly unsurprised by the majority of Prometheus’ story. But that doesn’t necessarily matter if the film is any good, and Prometheus… well…

The first half is quite good, in a slow, meaningful kind of way. Even at that point there’s doubts: some of what occurs is just unnecessary detail; shots and scenes that seem consciously designed to give it a slow pace rather than stuff we actually need to see.

The second half is batshit crazy. It abandons the thoughtful Serious Science Fiction trappings for schlocky body/creature horror, and in the process abandons the semblance of making sense. Plot holes glare at you. Characters make unfounded leaps of logic. It feels like whole scenes or sequences are missing. Indeed, quickly scanning through the disc’s description of some of the deleted scenes, it looks like they might explain some of the film’s gaps. I presume there’s a good reason they were cut though… right…?

And then, to top it off, it doesn’t have a real ending! They may as well slap “to be continued” on screen, such is the obvious lack of conclusion. It’s immensely frustrating, only to be topped off with a “in case we don’t get the sequel” bit of connective tissue to the Alien series. Mysteries and unanswered questions aren’t a problem in and of themselves — there are plenty in Prometheus’ franchise forbears, the first in particular — but they’re not the kind that require answers: their stories work as a discrete unit; who the Space Jockey is, or how the aliens came to be, and so on, are set dressing. Conversely, the gaps in Prometheus are in the primary narrative. There would be an argument for it being a thematic point — a Bergman-esque ‘silence from the Gods’ — but the starkness of that ending, as clear a cliffhanger as either of the first two Lord of the Ringses, undermines that. It fairly screams, “there’s more to come! See the next film for the answers!” And that isn’t on, because that isn’t what we were promised — this isn’t Prometheus: The Fellowship of the Prometheus, with Prometheus: The Two Planets already shot and scheduled for next year, and the trilogy-forming conclusion Prometheus: The Return of the Alien for the year after that; it’s just Prometheus, full stop, the sole definitive article. But it isn’t.

The sense that everything’s been cobbled together in the current blockbuster fashion of “keep writing even while shooting” extends right down to things like character development; even to individual scenes. Take Holloway (Logan Marshall-Green), for instance. He’s a dick. I’ve no sympathy when it all goes wrong for him because he’s not at all likeable. What’s somewhat ironic is that the deleted scenes note at least one sequence was re-shot to try to make him more sympathetic. And, funnily enough, I remember during that scene in the film thinking it was about the only time he seemed even vaguely appealing (even then, only relatively). Just one of many such apparently-bungled elements in the film.

No character is fully developed. Some barely register, suggesting too big a cast, while others suffer from being plain stupid, or doing inexplicably stupid things, or just piss-poor acting. There’s some thing made about Shaw (Noomi Rapace) being religious or a true believer or something, but it’s not properly explained and doesn’t go anywhere. David (Michael Fassbender) and the way he’s treated by the other characters are both very interesting areas, and clearly of huge thematic resonance, but he acts inconsistently for no obvious reason, and despite the horrendous things he does to Shaw at one point, she just gets on with him again in the next scene, and… well, that’s far from being the film’s only plot hole or inconsistency.

At one point a character escapes a situation only to be killed off in a different one. If that sounds like a reasonable thing to do, that’s because I’m trying to avoid spoiling parts of the climax. It’s not a particularly reasonable thing to do, though; it plays as “here’s a cool death”. I’ve not read multiple versions of the script or read interviews with the writers or listened to their commentary (yet), but one does wonder if Damon Lindelof was brought in to pull back on some of the Science Fiction (with a capital SF) and build up the blockbuster-y elements, because that’s what said cool death feels like: a film constructed from “what would look cool? What haven’t we seen?” rather than “what are we trying to say?” I have no problem with the former in its rightful place (Tomorrow Never Dies has the awesome bike chase because it was the antithesis of GoldenEye’s tank chase, for one ready example), but a film that sets out its stall around Concepts is not the right place.

The daft thing is, I think a lot of people would’ve been happy if it had chosen to just go all-out as a schlocky alien horror movie. That’s what Alien is: an exceptionally well-made haunted house movie in space. There’s no shame in that (well, maybe in cinéaste circles, but pish.) But that’s not where Prometheus pitches itself. There’s too much other stuff for it to be just that; stuff that’s apparently aiming to be Profound. So when the horror does turn up, it doesn’t belong.

It does all look bloody gorgeous, from the real landscapes to the CGI. It was shot by Dariusz Wolski, whose previous credits include all four Pirateses and not much else that would suggest a remarkable skill. But sod a pixel-generated tiger, these vistas surely deserved recognition. (But then I’ve not seen the tiger movie, so…) I didn’t see it in 3D, obviously, but it certainly looks like it was shot for the format. Not because there’s stuff poking out at you, thank goodness, but look how light it all is, especially compared to the original Alien. I’m sure the scenery had lovely depth.

A side effect of such format-hopping is a debate on the correct aspect ratio: it was reportedly shown at 1.66:1 on IMAX, 2.00:1 on IMAX Digital, and 2.35:1 otherwise (the Blu-ray remains at 2.4:1 throughout). I have no idea whether the IMAX was opened out or cropped, though I’d imagine the former, which does make you ponder why they didn’t just use that everywhere, especially on home formats. I guess 2.4:1 must be Scott’s preferred ratio… but is that OK? Should we lament the missing top and bottom? I dunno. More interested parties than I have debated this at length, if you fancy scouring the web for it.

Prometheus is a funny old beast, then. There’s lots of good stuff in there, but also lots of baffling decisions and confusing shifts of tone, emphasis, style… Considering it was made by an experienced master-filmmaker, who was presumably granted all the time, freedom and money he wanted to craft the film he desired, it’s baffling how it ended up feeling like such a hodge-podge. Many fans have blamed Lindelof, brought in late on to re-write the screenplay; but considering Scott ruined Robin Hood by ditching an innovative, exciting screenplay for a stock this-is-real-history re-telling of the legend, perhaps the blame lies at his door. He’s reached a point where he can order anyone to change anything and it will be done (writers have no power in Hollywood, after all). Perhaps, at 75 now, he’s lost the ability to spot a good script; or perhaps he just tinkers because he feels he must, because he’s the director and he’s in charge.

Whatever. Here he’s turned in a scrappy, confusing, but not meritless movie; one that will probably endure thanks to its franchise connections, its moments of clarity, and its intense controversy. It’s not a good film, but it’s kind of a fascinating one.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011)

Posted on March 5, 2013 by badblokebob

Shortly after I watched Tinker Tailor, it was announced that they (“they” in this instance being Working Title, I think) are planning a new film adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s perennially popular novel Rebecca. This news was greeted (at least on the websites where I read it) with cries in the comments along the lines of, “you can’t remake Hitchcock!” Such is the power of an adaptation to overshadow its original work, at least in some quarters — here in the UK, I’d say the novel is at least as well known as the film, and has already been re-filmed at least twice for TV.

I mention this because Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy elicited a broadly similar reaction, thanks to the beloved 1979 BBC miniseries starring Sir Alec Guinness as quiet but fiercely clever spy George Smiley. How dare anyone re-make that? Well, perhaps because it’s 30 years old (enough time to afford a new perspective, potentially) and was originally a novel — and those are ‘re-made’ all the time. Just ask Pride and Prejudice, or Oliver Twist, or dozens of others.

Personally, I watched the Guinness version just a month or two before I saw the new film, and it unavoidably colours my reaction to it. In that situation, one can only enjoy the new adaptation to an extent, while memories of the previous one crowd in. Distance is required for anything more objective. So changes between TV and film leered out at me, such as a radically different opening mission, and a radically re-arranged structure in places, and a few performances that weren’t up to the same level, and a marginally less effective denouement.

Yet, for all that, the film is excellent. It may not match the TV series in places, in my subjective opinion, but in its own right it shines. Gary Oldman does the impossible and offers a Smiley that is neither an imitation of Guinness’ nor a deliberate counterpoint, but stands apart as an equally proficient rendering of the character. The rest of the cast are equally up to task, with the exception of Kathy Burke, who stands out like a sore thumb in my opinion.

The TV series took about seven hours to tell the same story that this achieves in just over two. Interestingly, without cutting anything major, the film version still feels leisurely paced. It’s also equally as complicated — it’s an intricate plot, and both adaptations assume the viewer will keep up with it. This seems to have caused some viewers problems, particularly in America (anecdotally, at least). It does demand one’s attention, but it is possible to follow. Equally, I had a leg-up from watching and understanding the TV version.

All that said, the four-way mystery about who the villain is never seems much of a mystery. On the one hand, I know the answer; but on the other, I guessed it on TV too. I won’t give anything more away, though the shortened running time means one of the four suspects gets even less screen time than their already-minimal role in the series, and consequently downgraded casting in both instances. It’s an unfortunate side effect of a big-name cast that it helps your audience second-guess plot developments, but it’s equally unavoidable.

Another noteworthy advantage of the film is that it’s gorgeously shot. The TV series actually has its own appeal in this area, with a realism that is quite pleasing. The film occasionally goes grander (look at the depiction of meeting rooms in The Circus for a major example — while the TV series goes for any old room in Whitehall, the film offers stonking soundproof ‘pods’), but it works in its own way.

I must confess, much like my recent drabble reviews, this TV-version-centric review of Tinker Tailor was not what I had in mind, because the film has many praises to sing in its own right. But, in fairness to the blog’s stated mission of seeing a film for the first time and then reviewing it, the Guinness iteration did factor large in my reaction to the film. Now distanced from the series, I look forward to watching Tinker Tailor again with a fairer eye. Yet for all my talk of negative comparisons, I was still mightily impressed — enough to rank it in my top five films I saw in 2012, and enough to give it full marks.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy placed 5th on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2012, which can be read in full here.

Johnny English Reborn (2011)

Posted on March 3, 2013 by badblokebob

From the director of Oscar Wilde adaptation An Ideal Husband, Oscar Wilde adaptation The Importance of Being Earnest, and Oscar Wilde adaptation Dorian Gray — plus the surely-of-comparable-quality St. Trinian’s and St. Trinian’s 2 — comes this belated sequel no one asked for.

I found the first Johnny English film to be passingly enjoyable, but as I settled down to watch this one I realised I could barely remember a thing about it. That doesn’t matter though, because — as the “Reborn” tag might imply — this one basically starts over. Following an incident in Mozambique, English (Rowan Atkinson) has been retired to a Tibetan monastery (at which point your cliché alarm may start flaring. Try to ignore it because it’s not going to find anything in the film to stop it), but is called back to active service when a CIA agent will speak only to him about a plot to assassinate the Chinese PM.

Perhaps the best word to describe Johnny English Reborn would be “sedate”. Even the action sequences, of which there are a couple, can’t muster much speed, let alone jeopardy. Two of them are very nearly inspired: a Casino Royale-derived parkour chase, in which English uses his intelligence to find more practical ways around obstacles — but which has the side effect of sucking any dynamism out of the action; and a chase through the streets of London, with English in a souped-up wheelchair — but which feels like some sporadic bursts of concepts rather than a fully-conceived sequence.

Humour comes in dribs and drabs, most of it eliciting a chuckle at best. At worst, it’s blatantly borrowed from somewhere else: the monastery opening (a dozen Rambo III spoofs), punching a misidentified disguised woman (Austin Powers), fighting himself when under mind control (I can’t even think of a specific example it feels so familiar), and more. It’s all very gentle and old-fashioned, but without the wit or class those kinds of comedies can deliver at their best.

Plus, as with so many British films, you can have fun playing Spot The Cast Member. Famous names abound, with one or two recognisable faces cropping up in tiny parts too. Apparently Ben Miller, English’s sidekick from the original adverts and first movie, filmed a cameo that was ultimately cut. A lot of people seem moderately upset about that on forums. I like Miller, but to be honest I’d forgotten he was in the first one.

Having resurrected Bean out of the blue in the late ’00s, and English out of the blue in the early ’10s, I can only assume later this decade Atkinson will attempt to trot out Blackadder for a belated last hurrah. Or maybe Richard Curtis will stop him. Or more likely turn it into a polemic about Africa. While Reborn is fine, it doesn’t instil the notion that we should be looking forward to any more such resurrections.

The Plank (1967)

Posted on February 20, 2013 by badblokebob

2012 #97
Eric Sykes | 51 mins | TV | 1.66:1 | UK / English | U

A near-silent slapstick comedy starring Tommy Cooper and Eric Sykes, I’d never heard of The Plank until MovieMail highlighted it in a recent catalogue — I swear they gave it a fairly thorough write-up and called it a “must see” (or words to that effect), but I can’t find it now… Weird. (Incidentally, if you don’t get the MovieMail catalogue, you really should — it’s the best free film magazine I know, and probably bests a fair few purchasable ones too.) Anyway, after remembering MovieMail said it was a must see (even if they didn’t), Channel 5 helpfully put it on late one night over Christmas. So I watched it.

The film opens with the credits being sung to the viewer — a surreal touch that indicates the kind of experience you’re in for. The humour, as noted, is primarily of a slapstick variety, much of it unsurprisingly revolving around the titular slab of wood. Some of it is very amusing, but it really only works for people who like that kind of humour. That might sound self evident, but I mean I can’t see this as a film that will convert anybody. At times it coasts a little too; perhaps too much for such a short running time.

There’s actually a surprising amount of dialogue, considering I’ve seen it several times cited as being a silent comedy. The vast majority is inconsequential and there’s no significant humour there, which does render it an almost pointless inclusion — why not go the whole hog and make it dialogue-free? But then, this isn’t The Artist, so why not have chatter?

Also worthy of note are the supporting roles, featuring numerous comedy stars, many with names still recognised today: Roy Castle, Jimmy Tarbuck, Hattie Jacques, Bill Oddie… Can’t say I spotted them all in the film, but they must be there somewhere.

Some people seem to adore The Plank, and I’m glad for them that it’s made its way to DVD. It’s certainly a left-field kind of movie, very ’60s, and while I only really enjoyed it in parts, it’s the kind of thing I appreciate having seen. Well done, MovieMail.

Everything or Nothing (2012)

Posted on February 14, 2013 by badblokebob

To mark the 50th anniversary of the James Bond film series last year, the producers commissioned this special documentary looking back at the entire phenomenon. If you missed it when it was shown exclusively at Odeon cinemas (in the UK; it was on TV in the US), it’s been out on DVD for a few weeks (in the UK; nothing in the US) and comes to Sky Movies Premiere from tomorrow (at 12:15pm and 10:30pm; continues twice a day thereafter). It’s sometimes called Everything or Nothing: The Untold Story of 007, not that you’ll see that title on screen or on the DVD cover; and not that it’s very accurate, actually, because many (perhaps all) of these stories have been told before. But I’ll come to that.

Overall, experienced documentary-maker Stevan Riley has put together an engaging work. Eschewing intrusive, dogmatic voiceover narration, Riley instead tells the story through interviews (both new talking-head pieces and archive-drawn audio), illustrative clips, behind-the-scenes photos and film snippets, and music. The latter elements are taken almost exclusively from the Bond franchise itself — one of the film’s early contentions is that the Bond novels were a mixture of autobiography and fantasy for creator Ian Fleming, so (as Riley has said in interviews) clips from the films seemed an appropriate way to cover his back story.

Although ostensibly a history of the film series, Riley begins the story with Fleming’s wartime career and the birth of the Bond novels, then covers early attempts to get Bond on screen. Depth here means it actually takes quite a while to get to the entry of ‘Cubby’ Broccoli and Harry Saltzman, the producers who finally brought Bond to the big screen in the still-running series this documentary is meant to be about! Some have accused the film of being “the producers’ story”, as if that were a bad thing. It’s a behind-the-scenes tale, and with only a handful of people steering the series during its lifetime, naturally the throughline falls to them. Besides, cataloguing the changing roster of leading men is a story that’s readily and widely available, what with the on-screen action being (as it were) the ‘public face’ of the series.

With just over an hour-and-a-half to cover 60 years of history, the film’s biggest problem is length. There’s little time for nuance, instead offering a whistle-stop overview of the main events, highlighting key aspects here and there. Inevitably a lot of important things get short shrift — there’s hardly any detail on the birth of the iconic title sequences, for instance, or the series’ distinctive musical style. It’s both a blessing and a curse that detailed featurettes on elements such as these can be found on the series’ DVD and Blu-ray releases. A blessing, because the casual fan wishing to know more can look there for the detail they seek; a curse, because many fans will already have seen all of those featurettes (and they are numerous, including at least one dedicated thirty-minute-plus making-of per film) and find little new in Riley’s effort.

But there was never going to be time in a single feature to cover that much fine detail, so we must allow Riley some leeway. It’s also not his fault that Sean Connery refused to be interviewed, or that other key players are no longer with us and so can only be represented by occasionally familiar archive interviews, plus second-hand recollections (sometimes, third-hand) of friends and relations. This is, perhaps, most keenly felt in the film’s discussion of Kevin McClory, the man who claimed he had some rights to make competing Bond films (Broccoli and Saltzman brought him in to the fold to make Thunderball, which he did own rights to and so being where his claims stemmed from; he was the man who later made Never Say Never Again, and continued to fight for filmmaking rights up until his death). Here he’s very much painted as the villain, not only as a constant thorn in the side of the series’ guardian-angel producers, but also it all but says he conned Fleming, and quite heavily implies the first Thunderball court cases contributed significantly (or even wholly) to Fleming’s death. Is that true? It might be. McClory isn’t here to defend himself, but then his friends and relatives who do pop up don’t seem to try too hard to justify him either.

The one section I would call a major disappointment is the coverage given to the Brosnan era. Dalton and Craig are equally brushed past, but the key tenants — why Dalton’s films floundered and how Craig, despite initial doubts, led a glorious rebirth — are covered. There’s surely much more to say about Brosnan, however. DVD was emerging as a dominant format around the time his Bond incumbency happened, meaning the special features on his films were put together as the movies came out. That’s great for on-the-ground as-it-happened making-of material, but naturally offers zero retrospective opinion, something all the previous films’ discs benefit from. Unfortunately, the Brosnan section here does little to redress the balance. You get the feeling there’s an awful lot going unsaid, particularly about Die Another Day and the way Brosnan was unceremoniously dropped in its wake. The fact the former leading man can’t even remember which way round Tomorrow Never Dies and The World is Not Enough happened suggests something too… but I’m not sure what, because it’s never explored.

As a dyed-in-the-wool Bond fan, I was left wanting a bit more from Everything or Nothing; especially as someone who grew up during the Brosnan era, I feel there’s more to be told about that time. But for newer or casual fans, or those seeking a nostalgia-tinged flick through the highs (and the odd low) of the most enduring series in film history, it succeeds admirably. It’s just a shame they didn’t include it in the Bond 50 Blu-ray set — it would’ve been most welcome on the otherwise-pathetic bonus disc. But that’s a quibble for another day.

Everything or Nothing comes to Sky Movies Premiere from tomorrow, Friday 15th February, and plays twice daily until Thursday 21st February.

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