Dawn of the Dead (1978)

Posted on October 29, 2013 by badblokebob

Dawn of the Dead is the Citizen Kane of zombie movies.* And yet, in the same way new viewers arrive at Kane laden with the baggage of its acclaim, and thus come away with a lesser opinion of it, it would seem from user reviews on various websites that Dawn is a less beloved proposition for many a modern zombie acolyte.

Thanks to a shifting timeline, it’s now the late ’70s, but only a few weeks have passed since the zombie outbreak we witnessed in Night of the Living Dead. Society is going to hell: the US public are sentimentally avoiding government orders to burn the dead and abandon their homes. The outbreak, apparently controllable, is getting worse. Four loose acquaintances — a TV producer, her weather ‘copter pilot boyfriend, and a pair of police SWAT officers — escape the madness in the chopper, setting up camp in a deserted mall. Deserted, that is, except for the hordes of undead, flocking to a place that used to be so important to them…

It used to be that people were Clever for spotting the subtext that Dawn is really a critique of mass consumerism. Romero expressed his surprise at this: he didn’t think that theme was subtle, he thought it was blatantly the point. Heck, he even has his characters all but say it two or three times. Today, it’s depressing to see the number of user reviews online that criticise such analysis for being “pretentious”. It’s not pretentious, it’s what the film is about. Those reviews, and so many more like them, focus on the gore and make-up being old-fashioned and unrealistic, or the film not being scary, or there being too little action. Point — thoroughly missed.

Romero has said he considers his zombie movies to be about the time they were made; a little snapshot of the world (or the US, at least) at the time. Thus consumerism is only one of Dawn’s targets, albeit the easiest to spot. Romero was ahead of his time here: gigantic out-of-town malls of this type were, apparently, new propositions at the time the film was made, and the one that stars here was amongst the country’s largest (it still exists, I believe, but now it’s considered a little’un). It’s not just the zombies who are critiqued either. Our protagonists choose to stay in the mall because it apparently has everything they could ever need, even though it also has the constant threat of the undead. On their first trip out for supplies, they’re as interested in expensive watches as food and tools. As time goes on it only gets worse: they turn their little attic apartment bit into a chic pad, with stylish chairs and all the mod-cons. In a world where the apocalypse has happened, they’re not fighting for their very survival, they’re living the high life. They even ‘rob’ the mall’s bank, “just in case” money is still worth something.

As with Romero’s previous zombie outing, characters are as important as anything, and its through them further social analysis is developed. For instance, there’s Fran, the only woman in the group. A deliberate counterpoint to criticisms of Night…, she’s a capable person, who insists on being involved when the men cut her out. She’s the only one who thinks setting up camp in a place overrun with zombies might be a bad idea; she’s the one who insists on learning to fly the helicopter in case something happens to the one other person who knows how. She doesn’t scream once, a touch added by actress Gaylen Ross: when Romero asked her to scream, she refused, and he never asked again.

The men, meanwhile, help shape a commentary on society’s desensitisation to violence. There’s disgust early on at having to shoot these human-like creatures in the head to get rid of them, but so unrelenting is such a task that it becomes everyday. This and the consumerism thread come together in the final act, when a gang of bikers invade the mall: declaring that the place is their possession, one of our ‘heroes’ has become so used to killing the living dead that he now has no trouble opening fire on the plain ol’ living.

The film is rich with such analogy and symbolism for them that wants it (there’s even more than I’ve gone into here, including perspectives on immigration and US intervention in overseas conflicts); what’s kind of depressing is that so many viewers today don’t. I’m a fan of a well-constructed largely-mindless action movie as much as the next Bloke, on the right occasion, but that’s not what Romero was purporting to construct. It’s not “pretentious” to see these themes, because that’s why he made the film. Romero didn’t set out to produce a shoot ’em up and accidentally created some social commentary for chin-stroking cineasts to pontificate over — the zombie action is what’s almost incidental; it’s a prism through which to discuss the world.

All that said, it’s not as if the film stints on action. But this is the ’70s — they didn’t build an entire film from back-to-back action sequences then as we do now. These scenes can be suitably tense and exciting when needed, though, as with almost all ‘old’ action movies, they aren’t going to deliver the same hyper-choreographed visceral thrill as their modern-day counterparts. But they are there, and they are what they are.

I also don’t hold much truck with that “the effects are bad” waffle. I mean, really, what do you expect? The film’s 35 years old! And y’know what, it’s not that bad. OK, the zombie’s skin tone is a little blatant — special effects maestro Tom Savini has said he was aiming for grey but it registered as rather blue on film. Then the blood is a vibrant red — well, loads of older films have that garish red blood, what of it? In fact, it was specifically requested by Romero, who wanted a comic-book-y colour to match what he saw as a comic-book tone to the violence. Then there’s all the flesh-eating gore, which is by turns heightened to the point of silliness and gorily realistic — the stuff with the guts towards the end… Savini was a war photographer in Vietnam and that in part inspired his effects work. You want to argue with a guy who’s seen the real thing that his work doesn’t look as ‘realistic’ as some post-millennial computer nerd’s hyper-CG version of things?

Aside from thematic weight and violent frivolity, Romero also crafts a character drama. Whereas Night put some archetypes in a situation and stressed them out, to sketch-like effect, Dawn takes its time to explore its characters. In some cases their arcs are clear — likeable but cocky copper Roger gets over-confident and pays for it — while others are barely noticeable. The burgeoning friendship/relationship between Fran and policeman Peter, the most level-headed of all the film’s male characters, is so subtle as to hardly register, but it’s there, in part created by the actors getting on well. They earn (spoilers!) the happy(-ish) ending, an alternate to the fatalistic double suicide Romero planned, tested, but ultimately didn’t even shoot.

I have to say, the more I think and write about Dawn, the more I come to like it. It’s not really perfect — the biker climax comes almost out of nowhere, and I’m not convinced they were the most effective way to explore an ending. Perhaps this is where the “snapshot of the times” idea begins to fall down: distanced from the time in question, how resonant are those themes? Is that why modern viewers, coming to the film for the first time, miss them? (That’s not to discount the fact that most modern genre film viewers aren’t looking for grown-up viewing, but kids’ movie-style brightly-coloured action — with added gore and swearing to prove it’s actually for adults, despite the lack of adult thought or consideration required. Ironically, these once-B-movie cheap horror/thrillers are now, thanks to their political undertones, more suited to the art house crowd. I see why so many venerate ’70s cinema.) But (to get back to this paragraph’s point) there’s so much in Dawn, so much more than either a zombie kill-fest or a criticism of consumerism, that thoughtful reflection — and, I’m sure, future re-watches — are only to its benefit.

With all these words spent, I’ve not even discussed the throbbing score from Goblin and Dario Argento; or the use of quirky funny stock music to highlight the Comedy of some sequences (including tunes from/also used by Monty Python, which only seems to emphasise the point); or the criticism of religion (which I somehow missed until reading Calum Waddell’s essay in the booklet of Arrow’s Blu-ray! How remiss of me); or the movie’s length — this is definitely an epic! And at times it feels it. Though the methodical way it goes about outlining how you’d set up a new life in a mall is, actually, exactly what I’d want to see from this storyline. You can’t just plonk yourself down there and live, can you? You’ve got to think about where you live, how you stock up, and, in the case of a zombie apocalypse, how you keep the undead at bay… and how you prepare for looters.

Immediately after viewing, I’d say I didn’t like Dawn as much as Night. Though it has many qualities I admire, it also felt a little less focused and more sprawling. The first I found tense and chilling — a Horror movie, albeit one with observable dramatic and thriller-ish elements. Dawn is, at heart, a Drama — it’s about the people in this situation, that situation happening to be an extreme horror one. But on reflection, the bits I was less sure of pale behind the things it does right.

One thing you can’t doubt is that this inspired the zombie genre even more than Night: the gore, the violence, and so on. It’s just a shame that the filmmakers who have followed in Romero’s footsteps concentrate on those aspects rather than the humour, characterisation, and social critique that are actually what make his films classics.

Part of Week of the Living Dead for Halloween 2013.

A quick note on versions: thanks to international cuts and whatnot, there are numerous variations on Dawn of the Dead. Three key ones are included on Arrow’s UK Blu-ray: the theatrical cut (the only one in HD), the longer Director’s Cut, and the shorter Argento cut. The latter, produced for the Italian market, apparently focuses on action, to the detriment of the dramatic elements. The Director’s Cut is reportedly more of an “initial director’s cut” — a longer version before Romero honed it down to his final, preferred version, which is the theatrical cut. Various people swear by various versions; I just went for the one in HD.

* or should that now be “the Vertigo of zombie movies”? ^

Night of the Living Dead (1968)

Posted on October 28, 2013 by badblokebob

The Walking Dead, Warm Bodies, World War Z… zombies seem to be everywhere at the minute (generally in things beginning with ‘W’, for some reason), and generating big business. But this particular subgenre began 45 years ago, in a simple black & white independent movie, made for less than 1% of Brad Pitt’s salary for World War Z.

In a remote deserted cemetery, a twentysomething brother and sister bicker as they lay a wreath on their father’s grave. In the distance, unnoticed, a man in a scruffy suit shambles towards them… A frantic escape leads to a deserted farmhouse, where a group of strangers hole up against an ever-growing number of encroaching undead cannibals…

These supernatural creatures — the dead brought back to life for reasons unknown (though at least one is posited) — are not once referred to as “zombies” in the film. Quite where that moniker comes from I’m not sure — previous zombie-related movies had concerned a more ‘accurate’ version, about “living people enslaved by a Voodoo witch doctor”. Here, the undead are referred to as “ghouls”, or simply “those things”. Quite why that term didn’t stick (the former, obv.), I don’t know.

But the name aside, this is clearly the source-work for the entire zombie subgenre. That said, in terms of the film itself (rather than just the menace it features), its influence is more obvious on horror/suspense cinema in general than zombie films in particular. This isn’t an action-adventure kind of horror with constant gory zombie battles, which is the main route the genre seems to take (perhaps more inspired by Romero’s sequels); rather, it’s a group of people doing their best to hide and wait out the threat. In that respect it’s almost more of a drama, with the characters spending more time in conflict about what their next move should be than battling the undead. The whole “group of strangers holed up in an enclosed space” is a subgenre that feels like it took off in the past 15 years or so (see Cube, Exam, others that escape my memory), but Romero definitely prefigures all of that. Equally, you could look to ’60s Doctor Who and the birth of that series’ own “base under siege” subgenre, which has stylistic similarities but predates this. (Not that I’m saying Romero took ideas from contemporary British children’s television. Indeed, I think it’s fair to say he didn’t.)

Of similar familiarity, the characters are archetypes of the genre now, broadly speaking, but I imagine were less so at the time. De facto leader Ben is great, especially for the era: a strong, leading, commanding black character, whose race is never mentioned. He was written as an unintelligent white truck driver, but black actor Duane Jones gave the best audition and so won the role. An intelligent man himself, he changed the part quite radically, to a point where even contemporary reviews noted how unusual it was to see an otherwise-white cast led by a black character.

Elsewhere there’s examples of ‘The Coward’ and ‘The Young, Willing, But Ultimately Incapable One’. Ben aside, however, the most interesting characters are the women, mainly because plenty of reviews and commentary talk about how weak they are. Several of Night…’s numerous remakes have even explicitly addressed this, changing how they behave. I don’t hold with that, and I’d like to think as time moves on fewer people will. Much of this argument centres on Barbra, who after initial events shuts down and sits catatonic on a sofa for much of the film. The apparently-accepted point of view is that she’s useless and pathetic, and the film’s written that way because she’s a woman, while the men are capable and get on with things. Poppycock. Barbra is clearly in shock and, even more so, traumatised. It’s a great performance by Judith O’Dea in that regard, thoroughly believable as to how someone with such damage to their mental health might behave. Far from being the weakest or most irritating character, I think she’s the most fascinating, especially when you add in her final reaction.

Of the other two women… OK, in fairness, ‘The Girlfriend’, Judy, messes things up royally. If that role were a man then he’d just be ‘The Idiotic Character’, but because it’s a woman it has to be read as a pathetic and weak characterisation. It’s not helped when seen alongside the inactive Barbra, of course. But perhaps we should remember that this was the 1960s — it’s a part that’s of its time, not only in the filmmakers’ attitudes but in how people would genuinely behave. Not that women couldn’t be strong or capable in the ’60s, but if you’re brought up thinking you’re a certain thing, some people are going to develop into that and no more. ‘The Mother’ is certainly better: she argues with her wannabe-controlling husband, disobeys his instructions, sides against him. Her fate, again, is not the weakness some paint it as, but a plausible reaction to the situation.

Watching Night… knowing that it was made by enthusiastic first-time filmmakers on a next-to-nothing budget makes for an interesting perspective. It starts out contained to a few rooms of a house with just a handful of actors — that makes sense, it’s cheap to do. But then the ~~zombies~~ ghouls begin to amass. OK, cheap extras. But then the TV begins to show the outside world — and suddenly you’ve got dozens of men with guns setting up posses, and then military officials apparently in Washington D.C., being hounded by the press; and then our heroes attempt to escape and there’s bombs and shooting and fire and explosions! You become unsure of where it might go next, and that’s never a bad thing.

Some of the photography also belies the ultra-cheap budget. Not all of it — a few bits look exactly as cheap as they were — but a lot looks great, actually. As I understand it, there still isn’t a definitive Blu-ray edition, but the UK Region B Optimum disc offers superb picture quality (it’s slightly cropped in places, apparently, but not noticeably so to the unfamiliar eye). Whatever the motivation (it may well have been budgetary rather than stylistic), shooting in black & white lends numerous great effects, from moody film noir lighting in places, to a kind of documentary realism at others. Sometimes it just makes it plain old creepy — towards the end, with the kid, and the basement… brr. Much more chilling than bright red ‘blood’ and other ‘stuff’ just being splattered left, right and centre. Indeed, black & white helps to hide any limitations in special effects or make-up, adding impact to every scene featuring the ghouls.

The low cost is probably part of why it’s so small and contained, the same route so many low-budget genre filmmakers still take today. The pay-off is that it becomes an interesting character drama in a horror situation, as much about creeping terror as gore (though it certainly has its moments of the latter). That may not be to the taste of the gore-hounds that the horror genre can attract (particularly zombie movies, with all their flesh-ripping), but it does make it of more merit to a wider film-fan audience.

As the extent to which you can tell a story with just a few characters in one house reaches its limit, and the glimpses of the outside world suggest that a solution to the outbreak may be presenting itself, and as things begin to look more and more hopeful… it all goes to hell — spectacularly. It’s not just that “all the action is in the last 20 minutes”, as some dismissively assert (for one thing, there are at least two ‘action sequences’ earlier on; and it’s more like the last 30 minutes than 20), but that once things Go Wrong they really, really Go Wrong. If only our heroes had just waited it out, etc. But then we wouldn’t be treated to some of the film’s most striking imagery, including a fast-cut stabby murder to rival the one from Psycho in terms of effectiveness.

And after all seems said and done, there’s that ending — the one that cost the film a mainstream release from a major distributor when the filmmakers refused to alter it. It’s also the bit that provokes the most discussion about the film’s commentary on ’60s American society and attitudes: is it making a point about racism? Romero insists it isn’t. You can debate that if you like; personally, I can see where he’s coming from (it’s not quite refined enough thematically to be making a statement), but, either way, it’s a shockingly effective climax. The under-the-credits series of stark, journalistic photos just ram the point home… though they do also seem to lend credence to the allusions some feel the film is making.

After nearly five decades, numerous sequels, innumerable remakes, rip-offs, and films just plain influenced by it, you’d expect a low-budget shocker to have gone stale. The most remarkable thing about Night of the Living Dead, then, is just how well it holds up. It still feels fresh, with a story and style that seem as if it could have been made yesterday, only the fashions and film stock letting us in on its ’60s origins.

Romero thought he was making a rip-off of Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend. Instead, the originality and perspective he added to the mix spawned a whole new subgenre; one that, as I demonstrated at the start, is increasingly dominant in the horror landscape. I’m no expert in the field, but even if Night of the Living Dead has been equalled or bettered, it’s a film that’s still capable of standing beside the countless follow-ups that all owe it a debt.

Part of Week of the Living Dead for Halloween 2013.

Night of the Living Dead placed 8th on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2013, which can be read in full here.

On Dangerous Ground (1952)

Posted on October 25, 2013 by badblokebob

2013 #49
Nicholas Ray | 79 mins | TV | 4:3 | USA / English

Helmed by acclaimed director Nicholas Ray (Rebel Without a Cause, In a Lonely Place, Johnny Guitar), On Dangerous Ground is a film noir in which an over-zealous city cop (Robert Ryan) is punished by being sent upstate to investigate a murdered girl. There he encounters a blind woman (Ida Lupino) and, perhaps, finds redemption…

Despite the praise emanating from some quarters (“the material achieves a nearly transcendental beauty in the hands of Ray”, “a touching psychological drama about despair and loneliness”, and so on), I’m afraid this one provoked a lukewarm reaction from me. I didn’t feel the redemptive character arc was particularly clear, though perhaps this was in part the fault of Ray having to change the ending by studio mandate, and maybe having to pull punches in certain areas due to it being the ’50s.

I also didn’t ‘feel’ the juxtaposition of shadowy city in the film’s early sections with bright snowy country later on. Nonetheless, there is a clear contrast on screen, particularly as the city is all shot at night and is very black, while most of the country scenes occur in daylight, emphasising the near-ceaseless white of the snow. Expectation is a factor here: plot summaries all emphasise the “sent upstate” part, whereas a good chunk at the start is spent in the city, which threw me.

On the plus side, Bernard Herrmann’s score is unequivocally excellent, particularly the pulsating opening theme and the insistent action climax.

On Dangerous Ground is quite possibly a better film than I’m giving it credit for, but I just didn’t connect with it in the way I hoped. Definitely one to watch again.

My Week with Marilyn (2011)

Posted on October 24, 2013 by badblokebob

2013 #32
Simon Curtis | 95 mins | TV | 2.35:1 | UK & USA / English | 15 / R

1956: global superstar Marilyn Monroe (Michelle Williams) comes to England to star opposite Laurence Olivier (Kenneth Branagh) in his latest directorial effort, The Prince and the Showgirl. Midway though production, the troubled actress goes AWOL with young production assistant Colin Clark (Eddie Redmayne) in this true story based on the latter’s memoirs.

In many respects, this is an actors’ film, not least because everyone’s playing a real person. Michelle Williams thoroughly earns her multiple award noms (and Golden Globes win) by expertly capturing the different facets and nuances of Marilyn’s complicated character. In a case of life imitating art, the end credits suggest she couldn’t have done it without a small army of voice, acting, and movement coaches.

Kenneth Branagh does what the crueller critic might say he’s been doing his whole career: emulates Larry Olivier to a tee. Perhaps unexpectedly, it’s a showier performance than Williams’, what with a clipped period accent, random Shakespeare quoting, and mood swings between charm personified and frustrated anger.

Eddie Redmayne makes for a likeable enough lead, even when you know his character is making some plainly foolish decisions. Even he can’t sell some clunky opening and closing expositionary voiceovers, though. Meanwhile, Judi Dench is the personification of loveliness as Dame Sybil Thorndike. After harder-edged roles like M and Barbara Covett, it’s nice to have Dame Judi being nice again, a trait one feels comes naturally to her.

The supporting cast is a veritable who’s who of recognisable British faces, stars of screens both big and small. Barely a speaking part goes by without an actor you’re certain to recognise. I’d list them but, honestly, there are far, far too many. Despite Marilyn coming with a hefty entourage, Williams is the only American in the cast, meaning American accents are lumbered (to varying degrees of success) upon Zoe Wanamaker, Toby Jones, Dougray Scott, and Dominic Cooper. Hey, of course Dominic Cooper’s in it — is it even legal to make a mid-budget British movie without him now?

Somehow, these performances (plus the writing (by Adrian Hodges of TV series like The Ruby in the Smoke, Survivors, and Primeval) and directing, of course) gel to make a film that is both very funny and dramatically affecting. It was, I must admit, significantly better than I was expecting.

Ray Harryhausen: Special Effects Titan (2012)

Posted on October 23, 2013 by badblokebob

If you don’t know that name then you must be a young whippersnapper, because otherwise Ray Harryhausen needs no introduction.

The master of miniatures back when special effects were truly special, rather than copious CGI ladled all over a couple of thousand shots throughout a blockbuster, the effect of Harryhausen’s work in (primarily) the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s is to thank for much of the best creativity in sci-fi/fantasy filmmaking of the last 20 to 30 years. The list of interviewees clearly attests to that: it’s a veritable who’s who of genre filmmakers, from household names Peter Jackson, James Cameron, Tim Burton, and Steven Spielberg; to respected filmmakers like John Landis, Terry Gilliam, Joe Dante, Guillermo del Toro, and John Lasseter; via renowned animators and effects gurus like Nick Park, Dennis Muren, Henry Selick, and Phil Tippett — and, as ever, more.

As with the best documentaries about a filmmaker’s work, the real impact of Special Effects Titan is it leaves you with a burning desire to see the films themselves. I don’t think I’ve actually seen a great many of the films Harryhausen worked on, but the most famous sequences are nonetheless seared in my memory because that’s how damn good they are — we’ve all seen them, even if it’s on clip shows or what have you, because they merit repeating. They’re stunning technical achievements that still look great today. Sometimes they’re a bit jerky, maybe, and the inevitable issues of scale show they’re models fighting or interacting with actors on set… but for all that they’re still not significantly less realistic than so many modern computer-based techniques, and they carry a charm and obvious level of skill that said renderings usually lack.

I noted recently that I don’t normally review a title’s home ent release because that’s usually a little beside the point, but here’s another one where it merits a mention. The DVD (and Blu-ray) provides a very interesting array of additions. Normally documentary films have either no special features or things like extra interviews and subject-related bits & bobs, but Special Effects Titan comes with lots of information about the actual making of the documentary itself: why and when scenes were deleted, why things were or weren’t done in certain ways (e.g. they considered a stop-motion title sequence), and so on. That’s as well as those extra/extended interviews, including Douglas Trumbull and Jean-Pierre Jeunet, plus on the disc but not in the film are Edgar Wright, Simon Pegg, Rick Baker, and Peter Lord (of Aardman).

One thing I always wonder about ‘specialist’ documentaries is, do they have crossover appeal? Will someone with no interest in Harryhausen, or even in Cinema, get something out of this? Probably not, I guess. But that’s not a bad thing per se, because this is an informative overview of a man’s influential body of work that deserves all the appreciation it can muster. Even if, like me, you’re not that familiar with said work, this is a film that will show you why you should be.

The Italian Job (2003)

Posted on October 22, 2013 by badblokebob

2013 #34
F. Gary Gray | 106 mins | TV | 2.35:1 | USA, UK & France / English | 12 / PG-13

This came in for quite a bit of stick on release — how dare they re-make a British classic, etc etc. It didn’t help matters that one of the stars, Edward Norton, was apparently forced to appear against his will as part of his contract with the studio.

Now, I’ve never seen the original Italian Job, but from what I gather the only similarity is they both feature Minis in their climactic sequence — and even then, the original used ‘real’ Minis while this uses those daft big-as-a-regular-car new ones. In that respect it’s one of those remakes/reboots that is just using the name for brand recognition, and they normally turn out to be awful.

But maybe The Italian Job is the exception, because it’s actually a pretty decent little film. OK, it’s not high art, but it is a good time. The characters are amusing, the action sequences moderately thrilling, and while the plot is no great shakes, it’s a decent enough structure to encompass all the expected antics. Most of the supporting cast — the likes of Jason Statham and Seth Green — seem to be having fun, which is occasionally infectious.

In the lead roles, Marky Mark is fortunately not trying too hard to be serious, Charlize Theron makes for a The Female One who isn’t too far into the realms of eye-candy-over-character, and while Edward Norton’s performance is hardly remarkable, it doesn’t smack too much of being phoned in.

I doubt there’s anyone who loves this remake in the same way some people treasure the original, but that’s fine — very rarely (if ever?) do you produce a new classic when you remake a classic. But for a slickly entertaining modern action/heist movie, this does the job.

I am far too pleased with myself for that pun.

Man on a Ledge (2012)

Posted on October 21, 2013 by badblokebob

In the interests of completing my ever-growing backlog, I decided to post ‘drabble reviews’ of some films. For those unfamiliar with the concept, a drabble is a complete piece of writing exactly 100 words long.

A man books into a swish hotel, has a nice meal, then climbs out the window. Onlookers and police gather. Will he jump? Or is he just a distraction?

What follows is pretty generic ‘single location thriller’ material, with a thoroughly daft ending… but when the whole film strains plausibility (it’s not trying to be The Wire), do we buy it?

It is mostly enjoyable, especially as I like this kind of thriller (see: Phone Booth, Inside Man). It isn’t as accomplished as those, but it’s not bad — at worst, it’s average. Genre fans should be entertained while it lasts.

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs (2009)

Posted on October 18, 2013 by badblokebob

The island town of Swallow Falls exists for one purpose: sardines; the fishing, packing, and distribution thereof. But when the world suddenly realises that sardines are gross, the town’s economy is left in tatters and the only foodstuff the islanders have is sardines. (While we’re on the glum bit, the location of Swallow Falls is identical to the real-world location of Bermuda, except in this reality almost every inhabitant is Caucasian and the island is indisputably part of the US. This is why you don’t scrutinise the geopolitics of kids’ movies, especially American ones.)

However, genius young inventor Flint Lockwood (Bill Hader) invents a machine that can turn water into any food you ask for. When he accidentally fires it off into the atmosphere, it begins to rain burgers, and it looks like the town’s fortunes will face a massive change. But is that all for the best, etc etc etc.

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs has a silly title, a silly premise, and I thought it looked kinda silly too, which is why I didn’t bother with it before. A bit like How to Train Your Dragon, really, because then I began to hear good things about it, and when I found myself with the offer of a free Blu-ray (for reasons too dull to go into) I picked this on a whim (and because the other choices were pathetic — I mean, I could pick two, and the other I got was Resident Evil 4 just because I have the first three on DVD. I’ve not even watched the first two sequels, and I only thought the original film was OK. But I digress…)

And, again much like Dragon, Cloudy subverts first impressions by actually being really good. And I mean that as in “good for adults”, not just “good for kids” — not an unworthy aim, and something Cloudy also achieves, but not a main consideration in my personal assessment of things. The main selling point is that it’s very funny. Of course there’s the slapstick cartoon humour, which is well done, but there’s also a lot of great one-liners, random asides, and the like. Not ‘adult jokes’ by any means, but I think it makes the film fun for grown-ups too.

There’s also subplots that deal with why it’s OK to be a nerd/geek/whatever the term is this week, and why that’s better in the long-run (perfect for school-aged kids, I guess); and another about female empowerment, which is probably the kind of thing that ought to be in kids’ movies more often. Not that they don’t have their share of strong or equal female leads, but… well, maybe they do. That’s a Big Discussion for another time, but it’s something I think Cloudy handles notably well. Sure, it’s framed partly in a fairly traditional romance narrative, but I don’t think that’s necessarily a problem.

I suppose themes of acceptance by society and/or your family, of finding your place in the world, and of proving your worth, are all regular topics of kids’ movies — the “I feel different but I want to fit in” thing seems to be pretty universal. But Cloudy succeeds in making many of these feel fresh, and surrounds it with such fun that even if it didn’t you probably wouldn’t care.

This is buoyed by an array of memorable characters, voiced by a moderately starry cast all giving quality performances. Bruce Campbell is particularly noticeable as the mayor, though Neil Patrick Harris is slightly wasted as Steve the monkey. He’s a very funny character, but that’s in the writing, directing and animation — the voice work is spectacularly minimal. Apparently Harris was offered the lead but turned it down for the “more interesting” part of Steve. Nothing against Hader, but if I were the directors I’d have tried to persuade him to do both.

One final thing I particularly liked was the pace. It seems silly to criticise some 90-minute movies for not getting on with things, but almost inevitably you know scenes or moments, or even whole plot threads, will turn up to slow things down, even in otherwise entertaining films. Not so here. It moves like the clappers through the main plot, the sequences devoted to subplots aren’t tedious (even the romance one), and — perhaps indicative of the speed it’s moving at — the climax starts halfway through the film! That’s not an exaggeration: the events that form the film’s final-act grand-finale begin around the 42-minute mark. You’d think that would unbalance the film, toppling it under the weight of the entire second half being what most films deal with in the final quarter, but no, because it’s still moving at such a rate that you don’t notice. Well, clearly I did notice — but, most importantly, I didn’t mind.

In fact, the only criticism I have is the end credits song. It’s by some Disney pop-brat, it’s called Raining Sunshine, and it’s exactly as dreadful as that sounds. But the actual music in the film is good, particularly the action-movie-esque theme that plays on the Blu-ray menu, so there’s that.

I should probably learn to stop writing off non-Pixar animated movies so readily (and, based on what I’ve heard and seen of their last few efforts, maybe slacken off on the Pixar love. I say that as if it’s news — plenty of people already have; and I’ve never been wholly on that bandwagon anyway. But I digress…) Big, bold, colourful, funny and exciting, Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs is the kind of film I imagine a lot of kids love and watch on loop. In the process they may even be learning some Important Moral Lessons, which, crucially, aren’t too heavy-handed. Many of these aspects work for adults too. I don’t know if you’d want to watch it on loop, but you may certainly want to watch it again.

The UK free-TV premiere of Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs is at 4:20pm this Sunday, 18th October, on Channel 5.

Previews of Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs 2 are in UK cinemas this weekend, with the film on wide release from next Friday, 25th October.

The Naked Gun 2½: The Smell of Fear (1991)

Posted on October 16, 2013 by badblokebob

2013 #76
David Zucker | 82 mins | TV | 1.85:1 | USA / English | 15* / PG-13

Frank Drebin and the crew at Police Squad are back for the usual mix of silly one-liners and farcical slapstick. Fortunately, they’re as entertaining as ever.

If you’ve seen a Zucker-Abrams-Zucker film you’ll know what you’re in for (and if you haven’t, is a sequel really the best place to start?), but the pleasing aspect is that this is as good as any. Well, not as good as any, but it’s a fine example of their style. Which means that, the afore-outlined daftness aside, some topical jokes have already been lost to time and/or culture (I say “already” — it is 22 years old (oh lordy!)). On that note, I’ll mention that there’s once again a longer TV version which wasn’t shown when I watched it on TV.

The plot is, of course, fairly incidental; but, in a moment of accidental depressingness, it could just as easily be set today as almost two decades ago: an environmental expert is set to make a speech to the US President that will influence policy, so of course the energy companies want said speaker silenced. The only bit that doesn’t fly today is that the President might actually listen to an evidence-backed scientist over energy lobbyists. 22 years on and that field is still as bad as it ever was Stateside, if not worse… Bit of a bleak topic for a comedy, but I suppose it wasn’t all as crushingly serious back then. I imagine that side of the film will only get less funny as the years roll on.

Probably better than the third, probably not quite as good as the first, The Naked Gun 2½ probably splits the difference for 3½ stars. But I don’t do things by halves, kiddo.

* Classified a 12 for cinemas, but consistently (1991, 1992, 2001) a 15 on video. That’s a bit over the top; I really can’t see why it wasn’t lowered in 2001 at least. ^

The Extraordinary Voyage (2011)

Posted on October 14, 2013 by badblokebob

aka Le voyage extraordinaire

2013 #3
Serge Bromberg & Eric Lange | 64 mins | DVD | 16:9 | France / English & French

Documentary about the life and work of Georges Méliès, with particular attention to A Trip to the Moon, which then moves on to discuss how the hand-coloured print was rediscovered and the various attempts at restoring it.

It’s an informative piece, respectful of Méliès’ genius but not stopping short of detailing the later tragedies that befell him and his work. I suppose some might accuse it of being a hagiography, but I don’t think it’s so blunt. Praise comes from interviewees like Jean-Pierre “Amélie” Jeunet, Michel “Eternal Sunshine” Gondry, and Michel “The Artist” Hazanavicius.

The section on the restoration of A Trip to the Moon is perhaps even more fascinating. The colour print that was discovered was in terrible condition, and the restoration process was far from a straightforward scan-it-and-tweak-it. Various methods were tried, mistakes were made, and the documentary details them in fascinating, occasionally wince-inducing detail. Méliès created magic when he made these shorts, and now equally incredible digital magic is conjured to make them shine again.

The Extraordinary Voyage accompanies A Trip to the Moon on DVD (or, if you fancy spending a small fortune, Blu-ray), but arguments that it goes beyond a mere ‘special feature’ are worth hearing. It’s a worthy biography/tribute to a cinematic force whose influence is still felt today, coupled with the extraordinary story of how his supremacy is being preserved.

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