How to Train Your Dragon (2010)

Posted on December 3, 2011 by badblokebob

I saw a trailer for How to Train Your Dragon at the cinema a few months before its release. Having never heard anything of it, I thought it looked to have basic animation and a too daft tone. I wrote it off, expecting the kind of animated movie that would be slagged off as a Pixar-wannabe… and probably still land an Oscar nomination because there never seem to be many contenders for the animated feature award. Imagine my surprise, then, when it garnered endless positive reviews and a huge box office. What?

My impression from the trailer was massively wrong. How to Train Your Dragon is, as everyone else has likely already impressed upon you, brilliant.

For one thing, it quickly becomes apparent that it’s magnificently animated and designed. What might appear smooth and simplistic at first glance actually has a lot of detail in full motion. A wonderful world is evoked with the design and the detail, of the humans’ lives and of all the different dragons. Even better is the cinematography (do you call it that in an animated film?) It’s genuinely beautifully shot. Roger Deakins — the Coen brothers’ regular cinematographer, not to mention all his other work and nine Oscar nominations — is credited as “visual consultant” and I guess that paid off.

Numerous action sequences are properly exciting, and well spaced throughout the film — it dives in at the very start and doesn’t let up. Intelligently, they’re used to build and reveal character rather than just provide an adrenaline boost. That applies to the supporting cast and the dragons as much as our hero. The flying sequences are particularly brilliant. This is one of the few made-for-3D films I’ve seen in 2D where I actually wished I’d seen it in 3D.

As noted, it skilfully finds room for characterisation and humour amongst all the battling and flying. While most of the story focuses on the relationships between Hiccup and his dragon Toothless, and Hiccup and his father, it deftly and quickly sketches in all the major supporting roles. That’s a sure hand in writing and direction, able to build whole characters and pay off their role with only a couple of lines or actions here and there. Plus, making you genuinely fond of and care for a cartoon computer-rendered fictional creature is no mean feat, and Toothless has all the personality to achieve it. Avatar wasn’t close to managing that.

Some plot beats and relationships are familiar and therefore predictable, but despite that they’re carried off with such emotion and humour that it really doesn’t matter. If you pause to think then you know how pretty much everything will pan out (though it may manage one or two surprises), but when you care about and like the characters, as I think you will here, that all becomes the stuff you hoped would happen rather than the stuff you roll your eyes at.

One thing, though: Scottish Vikings? And how did all the kids end up with American accents? There’s certainly some American Kids’ Movie Logic at work in the voice casting.

In the end, then, How to Train Your Dragon is the antithesis of my initial impression: gloriously animated and filmed (rendered?), with a perfectly pitched tone that manages humour, exciting action, soaring flight sequences and an emotional connection to its characters, both human and dragon. This would thoroughly deserve to beat most Pixar films to that Oscar, so what a shame it was up against the equally glorious Toy Story 3.

How to Train Your Dragon merited an honourable mention on my list of The Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2011, which can be read in full here.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 (2010)

Posted on November 10, 2011 by badblokebob

While the final Harry Potter film continues to obliterate records at box offices around the world, I finally caught up on the penultimate instalment in the phenomenal fantasy series. It’s Part 1 of 2 at the end of a series that’s become increasingly serial, rather making this the Two Towers of Harry Potter films: it doesn’t begin, and it doesn’t end either.

Indeed, at times Deathly Hallows Part 1 is too heavily reliant on knowledge of the previous films, or even, for full detail, the novels. It’s understandable — you’d be a fool to take this as your first Potter film — but at times it could work a bit harder for those who don’t live & breathe Harry Potter; it could help along those viewers who could do with a little memory jog here and there. The pay off, however, comes in lots of neat or resonant callbacks across the films — Harry reminding Umbridge it’s wrong to lie, for instance — as well as within the film itself — Hermione obliviating both her parents and some Death Eaters.

Despite the series knowledge required, the well-established Potter team have created one of the series’ best instalments here. Long gone is the cartoonish frivolity of Chris Colombus’ opening pair of Children’s Films — this is Potter at his darkest, and not just in terms of the cinematography. Film franchises have come under fire for incessantly describing each new entry as “darker”, and none more so than Potter, but at least it’s deserved: this is a grim, oppressive world, where our trio of heroes are completely removed from the safety of school and on the run as fugitives. It rather negates author J.K. Rowling’s original conceit of having seven books each covering a school year, but hush, let’s overlook that (everyone else seems to).

Technically the film is well executed. Harry Potter films have had action sequences before, but few stand comparison to the bevy we’re treated to here: an in-flight fight/chase as a gang of heroes escape Privet Drive; a fast and claustrophobic duel in a cafe; the much-trailed run through a forest (interestingly realised without any score). It’s not quite an Action Movie, but if any Potter were to lay claim to that genre it could well be this one.

Elsewhere, several deftly constructed montages set the scene for what’s going on in the wider wizarding world while Harry, Ron & Hermione are on the run in secrecy. Similarly, the film massively cuts down on the novel’s interminable sequences of the trio wandering around Britain pondering things endlessly. Consequently the halfway point of the novel — Harry and Hermione visiting Godric’s Hollow at Christmas (if I recall correctly) — occurs under two hours into this 4½-hour adaptation. It’s one of the film’s best sequences though, the snow-coated village setting and almost dream-like pace evocative of both the magic and melancholy of Christmastime; its ultimately nightmarish events reminiscent of wintry fireside horror tales.

Talking of exceptional sequences, the animated one can’t go unmentioned. It’s wonderfully done, inspired by old silhouette animations, though achieved in 3D animation here, which is a pity. It’s still beautiful to look at, and it’s very fluid, but I can’t help but feel it would’ve been even more effective if they’d gone all out and done it in 2D.

Visually the whole thing is, of course, dark and gritty. I was always glad the films went for a ‘real world’ aesthetic rather than the ‘Saturday morning cartoon’ stylings of the books’ jacket illustrations, but the first couple of films still had quite a bright, primary-coloured palette. As I said earlier, everyone’s talked about each film bring thematically darker to the point that it’s become a cliché, but it’s true of the production design and cinematography too. There were a couple of scenes here where I literally couldn’t see what was going on.

Yates spoke of making this one like an “urban thriller” — and, having helmed the original State of Play, he’d know — and I think they have, more or less, in a mainstream fantasy movie way, achieved that feel. There are abandoned and decrepit industrial sites and burnt-out trailer parks to really push the feel, but it bleeds out into all the fantasy settings too. It’s cold, grey, bleak, tough — all appropriate for the dark times the characters find themselves in, if not so much for the pre-teen audience the initial books and films were suitable for. Themes of Nazi/Stalinist-style oppression are played up in the story (trials of those whose “blood status” is in doubt; listening to the radio for news of loved ones; Bellatrix’s torture of Hermione) and production design (the muggle-crushing new statue in the Ministry; the art style of anti-mudblood propaganda leaflets; the uniforms of the Ministry guards), but it’s subtle enough that it doesn’t batter you around the head.

The cast are, as ever, really just pawns in a bigger game. There are nonetheless some nice character beats — the dancing scene, for instance, which uses a Nick Cave song (in a kid’s film! Excellent). Anyone in the cast under the age of about 25 struggles to convince at one point or another, but the adult cast are as exceptional as their pedigree would suggest, even in their brief cameo-sized roles. Most impressive is CG character Dobby: Deathly Hallows takes him from being the most irritating all-CG character since Jar Jar Binks, to one who has a heroic and moving death at the climax of this film. That said, it was — much like the death of Sirius Black in Goblet of Fire — more effective in the book. However filmic the deaths Rowling writes may feel, the filmmakers seem to struggle to convert them as effectively to the screen.

And so, the ending — which isn’t, because we’re in the middle of the book. So how well does it work as, y’know, an ending? Quite well, as it turns out — indeed, one might even compare it to something like Empire Strikes Back: the gang are reunited and free of evil clutches (for now); the quest for the Deathly Hallows and the speculation of their meaning is all set up to continue in the next film; plus there’s an appropriately dramatic death. But this one was never truly designed to be an ending, so if you think about it too much it begins to work less well than if you just accept it. Still, having your villain acquire the MacGuffin we’ve been told is all-powerful and indestructible makes for a decent cliffhanger.

It’s interesting to consider that the ending was originally designed to be earlier, when Harry & co arrive at Malfoy Manor and Bellatrix sees his scar. It was moved it find an emotional connection for the ending, and I think it works. If it had ended where planned it would feel like a cliffhanger-ish point in a longer work; while there’s undoubtedly some of that in how it ends now, it’s a bigger, more dramatic point. A change for the better, then.

(As an aside, I think the order of the cast in the end credits reveals who has the best agent and whose could’ve worked harder. Have a read and think about the relative size and importance of their roles.)

Deathly Hallows Part 1 is, indeed, Part 1; but despite that it functions rather well as a film in its own right: there’s story development, character development, action sequences, and even a semblance of an ending. In terms of Being The Middle Instalment, it’s at least as successful as any other I can think of.

The final Harry Potter film, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2, is released on DVD and Blu-ray in the US tomorrow, Friday 11th November, and in the UK three weeks later, on Monday 2nd December.

Bringing Up Baby (1938)

Posted on November 7, 2011 by badblokebob

2011 #78
Howard Hawks | 102 mins | TV | 4:3 | USA / English | U

A box office flop on release (which directly led to Hawks being fired from his next film and co-star Katharine Hepburn being bought out of her contract & named “box office poison”), screwball comedy Bringing Up Baby has grown massively in stature since. And deservedly so, because — aside from a first act where Hepburn is no less than irritating, and an occasionally slow middle — it has some real comic high points and can be riotously funny.

Cary Grant plays a museum curator / palaeontologist / something like that who is due to get married to his controlling co-worker, but ends up embroiled with Hepburn’s carefree rich girl and her new pet leopard (the titular Baby). If it sounds a little mad, it’s not as mad as the film itself. As noted, it’s a little awkward to start with while one warms to Hepburn’s anarchic character, and it drags its heels a little through the middle, but by the time we reach the final act — when an array of characters and situations collide in a manic run-about too intricate to describe here — it all pays off marvellously.

Also worth noting is that it is, perhaps, the first work of fiction to use the word “gay” to mean “homosexual”. Apparently the term originated in the homosexual community in the ’20s (possibly earlier) but would not become widely known until the late ’60s. Its use here was ad-libbed by Grant, though whether that makes it more or less likely to have meant “homosexual” I don’t know. I suppose no one was ever in a position to ask.

True Grit (1969)

Posted on November 4, 2011 by badblokebob

I’d been hanging on to this to post with a review of the Coen brothers’ remake, but as that’s not happening any time soon and I’ve had this waiting around for months (I watched it in February!), the fact it’s on TV a couple of times this week makes now seem a good a time as any.

Having been remade to Oscar-nominating effect by American Cinematic Gods the Coen brothers, the first adaptation of Charles Portis’ Western novel True Grit was around plenty (on TV, Blu-ray, etc) back in… February, I guess. The story in all three versions (which might sound obvious, but is never guaranteed when it comes to adaptations) concerns a 14-year-old girl, Mattie Ross (here, Kim Darby), whose father is murdered by his hired hand, so she sets out for murderous revenge, recruiting Marshal Rooster Cogburn (John Wayne) to help because she’s heard he has the titular attribute.

What this means in filmmaking terms is the potential for a couple of great lead performances: the strong-willed, old-headed little girl and the rascally old lawman. Indeed, the remake earnt Oscar and BAFTA nominations for both of these roles, while this earlier version saw Wayne win the Best Actor Oscar and Darby receive a BAFTA nomination. This was the only time Wayne won an Oscar, and you can’t help but feel it was probably a career award as much as anything. As fun as Rooster Cogburn is, he doesn’t feel like a particularly exceptional character or a particularly exceptional performance from Wayne.

Darby, on the other hand, gives a great performance. Mattie Ross is a great character — plain speaking, knows her own mind, ready & prepared for anything… and isn’t ever shown up either, instead besting everyone’s low expectations of her. Darby was 21 at the time but is completely convincing not only as a 14-year-old but as a 14-year-old who’s wise beyond her years. Hailee Steinfeld’s performance in the remake has been much praised, but it has a lot to live up to from this.

The story is told pacily, which is nice, and despite being a Western has the feel of not being too much a Western, if that makes sense. I have no problem with Westerns, but for some reason some people do, and maybe something like True Grit would persuade them otherwise in the first instance. That said, I didn’t like the score much — it’s too often inappropriately genial for my taste — and the climax is a bit dappy — John Wayne defeating four men by riding at them with the reins in his mouth while firing two pistols? Seriously?

Still, those are minor points. True Grit is good fun, both exciting and funny in correct measures, with two entertaining lead performances. And I haven’t even mentioned the rest of the cast, including screen luminaries like Dennis Hopper and Robert Duvall, all of whom give their own even if they’re less notable alongside Wayne and Darby. The Coen brothers’ remake has a lot to live up to.

True Grit is on More4 tomorrow at 1:05pm, on More4 +1 at 2:05pm (funny that), and again on More4 at 10am on Friday 11th November.

The Princess and the Frog (2009)

Posted on October 25, 2011 by badblokebob

With box office and critical acclaim sliding, Disney abandoned traditional 2D animation for their significant films in the early ’00s, switching to the computer-animated 3D that was doing so well for Pixar and Dreamworks. I don’t know if it helped the box office any, but it didn’t help with critics — it wasn’t the medium that was at fault, it was the storytelling. Notoriously, as soon as Pixar’s John Lasseter was put in creative control of the whole of Disney he instituted a return to 2D animation. The Princess and the Frog was the much-heralded first film after this change.

The resultant film is very enjoyable — not because it’s in 2D animation, but because it’s just good. Set in ’20s New Orleans, it retells the well-known story of a prince turned into a frog who needs a kiss to return to human form in typical Disney style: expanded, funny, contemporary, with songs. And that largely works. OK, so no individual song is exceptionally memorable, but their jazzy style suits the film down to the ground. There are no bad or dull ones (not something that can be said of even some classic Disneys, in my opinion) and all are certainly entertaining while they last. Though it’s a little brief, the villain once again gets the pick of the bunch. I’m biased that way though; others may well disagree.

It’s also a bit long. A tighter opening and, especially, journey through the bayou in the middle would’ve improved it. While I enjoyed sequences like the crocodiles, guiding fireflies or frog-hunters when considered in isolation, there are just too many stacked up back to back for my taste. The voodoo material seems like it might be a bit on the scary side for kids, though maybe that’s just because too many children’s films are sanitised these days — I agree with the regular argument that it was better when films and TV aimed at kids included a bit of a scare or sadness, rather than more modern entertainment’s attempts to keep them wrapped in cotton wool for too long. The death of a character in the climax also sits in the same vein.

One thing that can’t be faulted, however, is the animation. It’s beautifully done: backgrounds are gorgeously painted, character animation is fast and fluid. There are some stunning individual shots, like when the fireflies become involved in creating glorious lighting and patterns in the bayou, for instance. There’s a nice use of different styles when appropriate too: a blocky art deco rendering of Tiana’s dream restaurant during Almost There; a splash of something hallucinogenically psychedelic during Dr Facilier’s number.

Many other Disney films have stand-out sequences; things to latch an appreciation on to. The best often have several of these stacked up, in some cases non-stop from start to finish. The Princess and the Frog is missing anything like that (though some may grab on to Almost There or, like me, Facilier’s song), but what it has instead is a very consistent tone, where the musical numbers fit effortlessly into the flow of the story rather than stopping the film for a showpiece. This is also true of the very best entries in the canon — Beauty and the Beast, for arguably the greatest example — and while I don’t claim Princess and the Frog reaches such giddy heights, I think its consistency makes it entertaining as a whole film, rather than as an up-and-down collection of varying-quality set pieces.

Not Disney’s best film, then, but one I believe has come in for an unfair amount of flack. I really liked it.

~~The Princess and the Frog is on Disney Cinemagic today at 5:40pm and tomorrow at 4pm.~~

Tangled (2010)

Posted on October 21, 2011 by badblokebob

Disney’s 50th animated feature is Rapunzel in all but name, for no particularly good reason. It seemed to be met with universal praise on its release last year, critics hailing it as a return to Disney’s previous quality after a run of lacklustre releases, in particular the underwhelming return to 2D in the year before’s The Princess and the Frog.

Well, to get that comparison immediately out of the way, Tangled isn’t as good as The Princess and the Frog in my estimation. I’m not sure why it seems to have been more widely praised — it’s solid and good fun, but I thought Frog had more going for it.

Which isn’t to say Tangled is bad. It’s funny, which is its biggest asset, and exciting at times — as usual, the highly moveable camera of CG animation adds fluidity, speed and excitement to the action sequences, making them one of the high points.

It’s not all good and shiny though. The setting — a comedic-ish fantasy-kingdom world — can come across a bit like lightweight Shrek, lacking the anachronistic postmodern real-world references that made that film zing. Worse, the songs are distinctly unmemorable — I’d forgotten some of them by the time it came to their own reprise. A gang of thugs singing about their dreams is the best thanks to its comedy, but I couldn’t hum or sing any of it for you now. I especially lament the lack of a decent villain’s song, a number I usually particularly enjoy. It has one, I suppose, but it’s one of the weakest examples I’ve ever heard.

Tangled isn’t bad by any measure, but I don’t feel it should be the praise-magnet it became. There are certainly better Disney musicals — it can’t hold a candle to those; and there are better funny fairytales too — but at least it holds up as a solid addition to that sub-genre.

The UK TV premiere of Tangled is on Disney Cinemagic this Sunday, 23rd October, at 5pm and 9pm.

Batman: Year One (2011)

Posted on October 17, 2011 by badblokebob

DC Comics’ latest direct-to-DVD animated movie is an adaptation of Frank Miller and David Mazzucchelli’s seminal 1987 Batman story, acclaimed as one of the greatest graphic novels of all time, and one of those that is often credited with helping the comic book medium grow up in the late ’80s.

The story concerns two men arriving in a sprawling metropolis that has become a rundown hive of criminal activity and police corruption. One a police officer, who sets out to be an honest force in a corrupt organisation; the other a billionaire who has trained himself to become a vigilante; both setting out to solve the city’s crime problem in their own way. They are, of course, Lieutenant James Gordon and Bruce Wayne, and the fact we know where this is going is incidental.

The film tells, quite literally, the story of Batman’s first year fighting crime — there are on-screen dates and everything. I say “quite literally”, but that’s not really true: Batman doesn’t turn up until a few months in. The plot description I’ve written above is actually a pretty decent variation of how the film pitches itself. Of course we know where it’s going, but it tries to make the emergence of the Batman concept more natural by treating it as if we don’t know. Because in the real world, dressing up in a cape and pretending you’re a bat is far from the first idea that springs to mind if you want to fight crime.

As with the comic, this is a very down-to-Earth version of the Batman story. It’s even less sci-fi-y than Chris Nolan’s much-praised realistic films, in fact. There’s no Batmobile, no Batcave, no Bat signal, only a few gadgets (and those that are used are fully plausible), no cartoonish super-villains… This Gotham is a city where crime comes from gangsters, drug dealers, muggers and a thoroughly corrupt police force, and that’s what Batman sets out to fight. As in the Nolan films, the costumed foes will come later, a response to the Bat himself. It’s not afraid to take its time telling this story either. Especially at the start, the pace is very measured — there’s no rush to action or to Batman, but instead a slow build of character and drama. Some may see this as a flaw — those after a Batman Action Movie, largely — but it sets the tone for what is a more character-driven tale.

Top billing for the film goes to Breaking Bad’s Bryan Cranston, the voice of Jim Gordon. That might seem odd, but when you watch the film it becomes natural: there’s not just surprisingly little of Batman, there’s surprisingly little Bruce Wayne. It may concern the origin of Batman, but this is played as Gordon’s story; he’s the one who must face police corruption, a troubled marriage, personal threats, and hunt for the new vigilante stalking Gotham’s streets. Meanwhile, Bruce’s decision to adopt the Batman guise, plus his initial struggles to do it professionally, are conveyed in a couple of brief — albeit effective — scenes scattered throughout the film.

Cranston, given easily the fullest character, gives the best performance too. Star of The O.C. and Southland, Ben McKenzie, was chosen to portray a 25-year-old Bruce Wayne in part due to his own youth. He’s fine when delivering dialogue, but his voiceover narration is oddly flat. Other ‘star’ name casting, like Battlestar Galactica’s Katee Sackoff or TV genre stalwart Eliza Dushku, only appear in small roles. Dushku makes for a surprisingly fitting Selina Kyle/Catwoman, considering the character design looks nothing like her. It’s a shame her story is such an aside — it would’ve been better to see some more of her and bring her up against Batman properly. Sackoff’s character, on the other hand, is just barely in it.

It’s been a good few years since I read the original comic, but it seems to me this was a pretty faithful adaptation — one of the reasons it’s shorter than the average DCU animated movie, in fact, is because they didn’t want to artificially draw out the story. This faithfulness certainly has its pros, but also cons. To put them succinctly, watching Year One can help you appreciate the work Christopher Nolan & company did expanding and rounding out the story when they more-or-less adapted it to make Batman Begins.

For those who’ve seen Begins but never read Year One, it’s not just the obvious “Bruce Wayne becomes Batman” plot that’s paralleled by Nolan’s work: there are numerous sequences, plot threads and themes that are taken almost verbatim from this telling of the story. These elements are integrated as one part of a different whole in that film, though — there’s nothing to do with Ra’s Al Ghul or the Scarecrow here. Indeed, you can tell Nolan cherry-picked most of Year One’s best scenes for his version, because they’re generally speaking the ones that shine here too. (It makes me want to watch Begins again to see just how much of this made it in there.)

The other con of being so faithful is that, unfortunately, some of what kind of works on the page doesn’t necessarily in a standalone film. The birth of Catwoman is a subplot that doesn’t really go anywhere, for instance. It has potential to, but it’s never adequately developed and certainly isn’t resolved. The comic gets away with this a bit because you’re aware her later development and adventures were already told, or will be told later, but in a standalone film it could do with rounding off. Despite the obvious fact that the whole point of the story is to setup Batman for future tales, Year One does manage an ending. Obviously it’s not completely resolved — as with any superhero film — but it rounds out much of what it set in motion… mainly, again, on Gordon’s side of the story.

As a film in itself, the animation is beautifully fluid, in particular creating some excellent fight sequences. Of course there are times when the limited budget of a direct-to-DVD feature shows through — the streets are always very empty during car chases; occasionally we see static shots where there should be some movement, especially during dialogue — but all told there’s nothing to really criticise and much to like. Christopher Drake’s music also occasionally shines through. I confess to missing the work of Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard, which is Batman’s musical soundscape for me now, but Drake sensibly doesn’t try to ape their style and instead makes his own work.

Unfortunately Batman: Year One has arrived at the party a bit too late to be the definitive screen telling of Batman’s origin — by taking the best bits of Miller & Mazzucchelli’s tale and expanding it with some work of their own, Chris Nolan & friends take that title. But as a film in its own right, Year One is largely successful. Children (or childish fans) seeking animated Batman thrills may be disappointed by its slower pace and focus on character, because this is solid adult-focused entertainment.

Batman: Year One is released on DVD and Blu-ray in the US tomorrow, Tuesday 18th October, and on HMV-exclusive DVD in the UK on Friday 21st October.

Cameraman: The Life & Work of Jack Cardiff (2010)

Posted on October 13, 2011 by badblokebob

Documentary telling the story of the career of cinematographer and director Jack Cardiff.

As the title implies, it focuses mainly on the former — despite the fact he directed 13 features, this part of his career is largely glossed over with a bit of discussion of one film, Sons and Lovers, which earnt some Oscar nominations (including one, slightly ironic, win). But that’s probably fine, because it’s for his work with the camera on films like A Matter of Life and Death, Black Narcissus, The Red Shoes and The African Queen that Cardiff is best known.

As a film, it doesn’t do anything fancy: talking heads, clips, photographs. There’s nothing wrong with that when your topic is engrossing and your content stands on its own. It’s a biography of Cardiff’s work, moving chronologically through his major contributions to cinema. The insights are numerous thanks to the number of films covered and a lot of footage from an interview with Cardiff himself. Though there are other interviewees, including some big names (just look at the list on IMDb), what Cardiff has to say of his own works dominates, which seems only proper.

My overriding memory of the documentary is of a slew of beautiful-looking films, some well known and others not, but every one jumping onto want-to-see lists thanks to what’s shown here. Which just demonstrates how deserving Cardiff and his work are of a dedicated feature film of this quality.

~~Cameraman: The Life & Work of Jack Cardiff is on Film4 and Film4 HD tonight at 1:20am, and Film4 +1 at 2:20am (of course).~~
Cameraman: The Life & Work of Jack Cardiff is on Film4 at 1:20pm.

Sucker Punch: Extended Cut (2011)

Posted on October 11, 2011 by badblokebob

Zack Snyder’s fifth venture in the director’s chair is his first not to be based on someone else’s pre-existing material; or, to put it another way, the first wholly original story from the director of 300 and Watchmen. On the strength of its critical and box office reception, he may be relegated from the chance of doing such original work in future (his next effort, as I’m sure you know, will be a reboot of Superman).

I read a good summary of the critical reaction to Sucker Punch somewhere: that critics (and viewers) split into two types, one who thinks it’s a shallow story-free brain-dead over-indulged video game of a movie, the other who think it has hidden depths and themes worthy of exploration. And both sides are likely to call the other stupid, one for not being bright enough to spot the subtext(s), the other for bothering to read stuff that isn’t there. I side with the group that thinks there’s something more to the film, which, as the minority, I guess makes this review a defence.

I’m going to start by discussing the difference between the theatrical cut and this Extended Cut, because for once I think it makes a notable difference. Indeed, why this isn’t called the Director’s Cut is unclear: Snyder reportedly had to submit the film to the MPAA five times before they were satisfied to give it a PG-13; the R-rated Extended Cut restores all that, so surely it’s the Director’s Preferred Version rather than Version With Extra Stuff Bunged In? Some of it is significant in terms of clarifying the film’s story, themes and real-world/dream-world juxtapositions. If you hated the film in its theatrically released form they’d likely struggle to change your mind, but for those seeking extra clarity they may help.

From what I’ve read, there are lots of changes here and there, but it strikes me there are four major omissions or additions:

An extended Orc fight in the fantasy/dragon world. Fine.

The dance number to Love is a Drug. I’d wondered why it got replayed over the end credits! Presumably it was cut because it was a bit too much like a musical, which is an understandable (people don’t like musicals allegedly) but disappointing decision. It adds to the film though, not just in terms of being Something Different, but also showing us what the club/brothel is like during working hours. It’s a great sequence.

A climactic scene with Jon Hamm’s High Roller and Babydoll. I can only imagine how baffling it was for cinema audiences to see the Mad Men star turn up for one half-arsed scene (namely the scene which now follows the High Roller one, which had to be gutted to make sense in the theatrical version). It’s a tense, uncomfortable, challenging scene that adds a lot to chew over — especially in context of:

The smallest cut in length, but perhaps the most significant: when the Priest first brings Babydoll to the club, it’s discussed that she’s there to sell her virginity to the High Roller. Cut (like everything else) to get a PG-13 and because of the connection to that High Roller scene, it might sound like a minor omission, but restoring it clarifies both character motivation and some of the film’s themes, while juxtaposing the real world and dream world with, respectively, lobotomy and loss of virginity.

This is where the film is better than some would give it credit for: it’s not just a muddled excuse for some action sequences, it’s a dream-logic battle by a girl poised to lose her mind… or, maybe, already has. While her stepfather is taking Babydoll to the asylum for nefarious purposes, there’s little doubt in my mind that she’s already suffering serious mental health problems — PTSD, quite probably, seeing as she accidentally murdered the little sister she was trying to protect after almost being raped by the evil stepfather her dead mother has left them to. If you know anything of the crazy, fractured dreams/hallucinations someone with a damaged mind can have, and apply that to this film, it begins to make more sense as a story.

(Major spoilers in the next two paragraphs.) That doesn’t mean it isn’t a problematic depiction of this. Is the ending really saying a lobotomy is a great solution to mental health problems? It allows Babydoll to escape her guilt and remorse for killing her sister, but that’s hardly empowering — giving in to it is, thematically, tantamount to suicide. This is supposedly offset by the escape of total-innocent Sweetpea, which wouldn’t have happened without Babydoll, but that seems scant consolation. And Babydoll’s stepfather escapes unpunished, apparently! Oh dear.

That it was Sweetpea’s story all along is also an interesting conceit. Snyder does contribute to this — Abbie Cornish gives the opening voiceover, we first see Sweetpea in a stage-set like the one Babydoll was on at the film’s open, and when we enter the (first) dream world it’s Sweetpea rather than Babydoll who emerges from the rotating transition shot. But is that enough? Because we’re undoubtedly in Babydoll’s head throughout the film, the only exceptions being the real-world bookends in which we only follow her. (We do see the result of Sweetpea’s escape, but the visual style makes it clear it’s Babydoll’s imagining of what happened.) Maybe this is Snyder’s ultimate aim: it’s someone’s story told from the perspective of a (particularly interesting) supporting character. A little like the end of Super, actually.

This isn’t the end of Sucker Punch’s thematic implications though. Some say it’s a deeply misogynistic film dressed up as a female empowerment movie — look at the hyper-sexy outfits, the ultra-action, the fact it’s set in a brothel… Others probably argue it’s about female empowerment despite all that, but one of the more convincing arguments I’ve read says it’s about female oppression: these characters think they’re independent and fending for/defending themselves, but everywhere they turn there’s a man in control. Even in the dreams-within-a-dream where the action sequences take place, the girls are given orders by a male commander and they follow them unquestioningly. I suppose it’s all down to your personal perspective whether you see this as evidence of misogyny or of a deeper, more thoughtful approach. Let’s be kind and see the latter, I think — it makes the film more interesting, more thought-provoking, and therefore more enjoyable. And enjoyable is good — if you’re setting out to hate a film for the sake of hating it then… oh, then just sod off.*

A far wiser man than I once theorised that any work of art, once completed and released, belongs to the viewing public rather than the artist.** (This is a lesson I feel someone needs to put to George Lucas.) Part of what this means is, if one reads something into the work — a thematic discourse, a moral message, whatever — then it is there, whether the author intended it or not. And if the author intended a certain message and you get the opposite, well, that’s right too (heck, even if you subscribe to the notion the work still belongs to the artist and only their intentions are valid, clearly they mucked up their delivery if you got the opposite). So, in other words, it doesn’t matter whether Snyder wrote and directed his film to ponder or convey certain points or ideas, or whether he just set out to create something that was “effin’ cool maaan, with, like, action and hot chicks and stuff, dude” — what I (and other critics) have read into it is still valid. So there.

Like the rest of the film, the soundtrack is divisive. Some think it contains weak re-workings of excellent classic tracks, others that it contains interesting and appropriate re-workings of excellent classic tracks. I must again side with the latter. For instance, there’s a Queen/rap mash-up that I actually quite liked, and this is from someone who thinks the Wyclef Jean bastardisation of Another One Bites the Dust on Greatest Hits III is an offensive waste of disc space. The standout is probably the opening sequence, five minutes of dialogue-free brilliance with near-perfect visual storytelling (albeit aided by familiar imagery of abuse), set to a haunting rendition of Sweet Dreams (darkly, thematically apt for the entire film) sung by star Emily Browning herself.

Really, Sucker Punch is a musical. No, most of it isn’t sung, but every action sequence is accompanied by a cover song specially designed to fit with it, many (or all) of which in some way comment on or add to what’s happening. Not a traditional musical by any means, obviously, but the way it’s constructed around these musical/action interludes belies the truth.

Said action sequences are all inventive, but they began to feel a bit samey to me. There’s just too many, and though they should feel drastically different thanks to the variety of settings, Snyder’s style links them too well: they’re all shot in the same brown/sepia hue and our heroes all use current-day weapons and vehicles, blurring what should be a clear difference between World War I with steam-powered Germans, an Orc-riddled fantasy castle, and a robot-guarded train on a distant planet. They sound incredibly distinct on paper, but on screen it’s confusing whether they’re meant to be the same world or not. The last of these, a single-shot running gun battle along a train, should be a balletic triumph, but by this point the action’s beginning to wear. I love an action film, and especially a creatively-rendered sequence, and Sucker Punch does have a ton of originality, but there’s perhaps too much of an onslaught. Maybe it’s less battering on later viewings — another reason they cut back on it in the theatrical version, perhaps.

All of the dream levels (we go at least two deep) invite comparisons to Inception, though they’re radically different films. I’m sure there’s an argument to be made along the lines of Inception being a product of a very organised, methodical mind — all steel city blocks and precise Escher paintings made real — while Sucker Punch comes from a crazed creative place — a random grab-bag of ideas and concepts. For all those who complained that Inception’s real-world-influenced dreamscape lacked the creativity and madness of real dreams, Sucker Punch should be a marvellous experience.

Part of me wonders if, had I seen Sucker Punch in cinemas, would I feel the same way I do now? Would those big omissions have obscured the thematic depth I believe is there? To put it another way, how much do the changes really add? You or I will never know for certain. But I do think Sucker Punch has been underrated. It’s not the masterpiece I hoped it might turn out to be when I first began to notice the themes I think Snyder was (consciously or not) tapping in to, but I do think it’s a lot better and more interesting than most gave it credit for.

* This is not the same as disliking a film that merits disliking. But that’s a whole other discussion. ^

** The man in question where I encountered this theory was Russell T Davies, writing in his and Benjamin Cook’s book Doctor Who: The Writer’s Tale. A completely unrelated article that I just happened to stumble across later reminded me that credit for the concept “that once a work of art exists, it no longer matters what the author intended” more properly goes to Roland Barthes. ^

The House on 92nd Street (1945)

Posted on September 28, 2011 by badblokebob

2011 #76
Henry Hathaway | 84 mins | TV | 4:3 | USA / English | U

Here’s an unusual one from the pantheon of film noir. These days we’d probably call it a docu-drama, though thankfully there are no talking heads, but there is a factual voiceover narration. The story, we’re told, comes from the FBI’s files and is based on a real case — IMDb tells me the original title was Now It Can Be Told and it’s “loosely based on the case of Duquesne Spy Ring headed by Frederick Joubert Duquesne and the work of real life double agent William G. Sebold.” So there you go.

The story we actually see centres on Bill Dietrich, an American student of Germanic descent who’s approached by someone with an offer to train in Germany. This being set in a period when Hitler was on the rise, Bill toddles off to the FBI, who inform him that he’s being recruited to be a Germany spy… and so they encourage him to go and become a double agent. On his return to America, he infiltrates a group who are stealing weapons secrets and things progress from there. And they’re based in a house on New York’s 92nd Street, hence the title.

What this all really allows for is a film of two halves, though thankfully it’s not obviously divided up that way. On the one hand we have a double-agent spy thriller, which has a noir-ish tinge but isn’t the most representative film of the genre; on the other, a fairly factual look at the contemporary workings of the FBI. Many of the smaller parts were played by real FBI agents and a lot of time is put into showing how they really work and investigate a case. At the time I imagine this was a fascinating procedural; now, we’re all a bit more familiar with how such things go, but it still works as an historical document.

The tone is very reverent toward the Bureau, but as it was made while the US was still at war with Japan (it was released a week after their surrender; we’ll come back to that in a moment) that’s understandable. I don’t think it goes too far — they’re certainly shown to be faultless good guys, but at the same time they’re not superheroes. Plus none of this really gets in the way of the more straightforwardly thriller-ish side of the story, which has suitable amounts of tension and an all-action climax, plus a decent twist/reveal for who The Man Behind It All is.

Two final things, then: first, another bit of trivia from IMDb that I found interesting and so will quote more-or-less in full:

The movie deals with the theft by German spies of the fictional “Process 97,” a secret formula which, the narrator tells us, “was crucial to the development of the atomic bomb.” The movie was released on September 10, 1945, only a month after the atomic bombs had been dropped on Japan, and barely a week after Japan’s formal surrender. While making the film, the actors and director Henry Hathaway did not know that the atomic bomb existed, or that it would be incorporated as a story element in the movie. (None of the actors in the film mentions the atomic bomb.) However, co-director/producer Louis De Rochemont and narrator Reed Hadley were both involved in producing government films on the development of the atomic bomb. After the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, Hadley and screenwriter John Monks Jr. hastily wrote some additional voice-over narration linking “Process 97” to the atomic bomb, and Rochemont inserted it into the picture in time for the film’s quick release.

Well there you go, eh? Don’t get much more timely than that.

Secondly, from Wikipedia: “Although praised when released in 1945, the film when released on DVD in 2005 received mostly mixed reviews. Christopher Null writes, “today it comes across as a bit goody-goody, pandering to the FBI, pedantic, and not noirish at all.”” I think I’ve addressed most of these points already, but it’s the last one that gets me. Essentially he seems to be moaning that “they didn’t make a good enough film noir!” Might be because no one ever knew they were making a film noir, eh? How can you expect something to conform to a set of rules that were only defined after the fact? Hathaway and co didn’t fail at making a noir, they just made a film that doesn’t fit the later-defined template as well as the films used to define said template. I know, four words from some other online critic hardly merit a whole paragraph, but it does bug me when people write daft things like that.

Anyway, back to the point: The House on 92nd Street is not the best example of film noir one could find, certainly, but it is an entertaining and informative documentary-ish spy-thriller.

The House on 92nd Street is on More4 tomorrow, Thursday 29th September, at 10:30am (and, naturally, on More4 +1 one hour later).

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