The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift (2006)

Posted on May 22, 2013 by badblokebob

2013 #45
Justin Lin | 100 mins | TV | 16:9 * | USA & Germany / English | 12 / PG-13

2001’s car racing actioner The Fast and the Furious seemed, to me, to meet with a mixed reception; the kind of thing where some critics disliked it and some enjoyed it for what it was, and audiences were more the latter but only passingly so. It must’ve done well though, because in 2003 we were treated to a sequel.

For 2 Fast 2 Furious the studio backed the wrong horse, signing up the first film’s uninteresting hero, Paul Walker, and leaving its more entertaining villain, Vin Diesel, to his skyrocketing action star career. The main talking point seemed to be the title, out of which the piss was relentlessly taken… and has been ever since.

Come 2006, there seemed to be some kind of last-ditch attempt at saving what someone thought was a good idea. The third film in the series ditches a number for a subtitle; ditches the US settings for Japan; and ditches every character from the earlier films in favour of a fresh start. What remains is the tone and the content. The plot is the usual mix of street racing and gangster posturing, though at least the “woohoo hot chicks!” and rap culture business has been toned down from last time.

The plot, such as it is, sees a rebellious US high school student (target audience cypher, check!) sent away to his father in Japan instead of going to prison (I’m sure there’s some logic there…) and ordered never to go near a car again. Which he promptly does, of course. Racing is different in Japan, though: rather than drag-style muscle with the odd inconvenient corner, here it’s all about drifting — sliding round corners with style. Goaded into a race, said high school student (I can’t remember his name. Who could?) loses miserably. And then he sets out to learn how to drift and there’s some stuff with a girl who’s with the bad guy and there’s some gangster-types and you know the drill, I’m sure.

If I sound dismissive, it’s slightly affected: Tokyo Drift is surprisingly decent. Surprisingly decent for a Fast and Furious film, that is. In my review of 2F2F I described it as “junk food” — you know it’s bad for you, but sometimes it hits the spot. Tokyo Drift is the same kind of film, all fat and sugar and no substance, but kinda tasty at the right time. And at least it provides something different to the previous films. Not so much the new characters, who are predictably bland; or the plot, which is samey; but the move to Tokyo, which lends proceedings a different flavour and style, not least the emphasis on drifting — most/all of which was performed for real by stunt drivers, rather than the often computer-enhanced car action of the previous films.

Despite this looking like a desperate grab that would leave The Fast and the Furious series as a trilogy in technicalities only, somehow the franchise has since revitalised itself. More on that next time, but it does have a bearing here: as later films brought returning characters and on-going plots, so Tokyo Drift slipped away as an anomaly; an aside, perhaps even a mistake, that has no place in the series’ primary narrative. While that last point may or may not be true, as a film in itself, Tokyo Drift is as passingly entertaining as anything else the F&F series has yet offered me.

* The original aspect ratio is 2.35:1, but this was on ITV and they’re less respectful than Channel 4 or (sometimes) the Beeb. The cropping was rarely noticeable, however. ^

Django Unchained (2012)

Posted on May 20, 2013 by badblokebob

Quentin Tarantino made his name in the ’90s with a series of dialogue-heavy gangster thrillers that provoked a storm of imitators. Since the turn of the millennium, however, he’s contented himself with a series of extravagant hyper-cinephilic genre homage/parodies. After tackling Japanese action movies in Kill Bill Vol.1, revenge thrillers in Kill Bill Vol.2, B-movie grindhouse fillers in Grindhouse/Death Proof, and World War 2 men-on-a-mission movies in Inglourious Basterds, here he sets his sights on a genre whose DNA is threaded through all his movies: the Spaghetti Western.

It’s 1858, two years before the American Civil War (which started in 1861 — a schoolboy error, a reference, or a Basterds-style flourish? Who knows), and a bounty hunter by the name of Dr. King Schultz (an Oscar-winning Christoph Waltz) acquires a slave by the name of Django (Jamie Foxx) to help him track down three wanted brothers. In return, he will grant Django his freedom.

But that’s not the end of it. This being post-millennial Tarantino, whose every movie is so long it has the potential to be split in two, Kill Bill style, that plot is just Act One. As Schultz and Django bond, the German learns about Django’s wife, Broomhilda (Kerry Washington), who was sold to the infamous Candyland plantation. Being a good German and feeling he must help this real-life Siegfried, Schultz and Django concoct a plan to rescue her…

It’s fair to say Django Unchained sprawls. But, unlike the chapterised character-flitting antics of Kill Bill and Inglourious Basterds, it has a straight throughline it follows from beginning to end, with only a few asides. In terms of length and scope, it’s perhaps not too much of a reach to evoke The Good, the Bad and the Ugly rather than any other self-indulgent lengthy non-epics. Some have tired of the film’s length (compared to the masses who have elevated it to 46th on IMDb’s all-time top 250, not many), but the prospect of an extended cut (mooted by QT as something he might offer later) excites me. Of course, the Kill Bill single-film edit still hasn’t made it further than Cannes or the New Beverly, so I won’t be holding my breath.

I’m going to offer pretty unrelenting praise for Django Unchained, but it’s hard to know where to begin. With the cinematography and its extraordinary range? From icy cold mountains to orangey warm Southern interiors, from homaging crash zooms and blood-splattered blossom to new perspectives on action, the work of DP Robert Richardson consistently shines. And I don’t believe there was any teal-and-orange or other such clichéd digital manipulation either. Beautiful.

Or how about those action sequences? Months of work training real horses to do things never before seen pays off (and Tarantino proudly displays the “no animals were harmed” notice right at the top of the credits), while the blood-drenched Candyland shoot-out is arguably one of the best pure action scenes in years. Those are amongst myriad other sequences, from the small and transitory to the epic and vital.

Or there’s always QT’s renowned music choices? He’s as irreverent but perfect as ever here, encompassing the cheesy title song from the 1966 original, some classic rock, a new song by Ennio Morricone and Elisa, and even modern hip-hop. Some of it jars at first (particularly the latter), but it all works to the intended effect. The only QT soundtracks I’ve bothered with actually buying previously were the Kill Bills, but this may join them.

Or the performances? Tarantino has really gifted his actors with some special roles here. Foxx arguably gets the short straw, though as heroes go there’s actually a lot for him to play in Django. He keeps it subtle amidst an array of large performances, and that’s no bad thing. As his mentor, Waltz earnt a second Oscar for a Tarantino role. Some have accused this of being the same performance as he gave in Basterds, but that’s not quite fair. They’re both Tarantino characters speaking Tarantino dialogue played by the same actor — they’re always going to feel similar. But there are subtle differences, which make Basterds’ Col. Landa a likeable villain and Django’s Schultz a likeable good guy.

Still, best served — and, perhaps, more deserving of the Supporting Actor nod — are villainous duo Leonardo DiCaprio and Samuel L. Jackson. For starters, has Leo ever played a villain before? He’s on stonking form here as Southern gent Monsieur Candie (who can’t speak French), a sinisterly welcoming fellow with a dark side that’s on constant display. He’s all smiles and all lingering threat and menace. Indeed, scenes are often at their most tense when he’s at his nicest. I think there’s an argument for him to go down as one of the great screen villains — he even has the obligatory cool dispatch. “I couldn’t resist” indeed.

And as for Jackson… He’s a QT regular, and so you’d expect him to be a mofo so cool he was rivalling the titular hero for biggest badass status. But no: he’s a rickety old house slave, with a ring of grey hair and always hunched over his walking stick. He commands respect, but is subservient to Candie… though, who’s really in control? There are some nice scenes and moments questioning that. And he’s completely menacing, but in a more subtle and insidious way than Jackson’s usual Jules-from-Pulp-Fiction-moulded villains.

Aside from the leads, there’s a host of recognisable faces in supporting roles — or even dialogue-free one-shot cameos: someone you might recognise from TV plays The Daughter of the Son of a Gunfighter, seen staring out of a window as Django and Schultz pass by. It does make you wonder if some of these people had bigger roles that got cut… or maybe there are just other reasons. However, one remaining cameo features perhaps the most satisfying use of “I know” since The Empire Strikes Back. And QT himself is in it, briefly, doing an Australian accent (I think?) and affording himself a striking exit.

One thing that provoked some comment and controversy was the violence, and the juxtaposition of humour and violence. Personally, I think Tarantino nails it. There’s horrific stuff done to slaves, most of it by Candie and his acolytes — but, what, you thought the slave trade was cushtie? There’s no lingering on gore like you’d find in a Saw film — there are bits where he could have, if he’d wanted, but that’s not the point. Are the scenes still shocking? Yes, but that is the point. These are Very Bad Men who do Very Bad Things, which I can well imagine are historically accurate, and Tarantino exposes that and, through it, well earns the explosion of vengeance that forms the film’s multiple climaxes.

There are flashes of humour throughout, making for welcome contrast, but the one that provoked the most discussion is an extended sequence with a gaggle of proto-Klan members. I’m sure you read about it: they can’t see out of their hoods. Some decried it for being silliness involving a gang who were viciously cruel and shouldn’t be the subject of humour. Tosh and piffle, I say. One of the best ways to skewer many an evil institution is to make them a laughing-stock, to take the piss out of them, and that’s exactly what Tarantino is doing. These aren’t likeable, funny people who are Klan members; they’re incompetent fools because they’re Klan members. The resulting scene is hilarious and deservedly one of the movie’s most memorable moments.

There’s a lot to say about Django Unchained, and a lot to praise about it — it is two-and-three-quarter hours long after all. But points of discussion are often the mark of a good film, and praise obviously is. As a marriage of homage and B-movie to historical comment and some satisfying justice, albeit only cinematic, Tarantino’s Spaghetti Western homage is an entertaining, occasionally thought-provoking, rewarding, and thoroughly cinematic experience.

Django Unchained is available in the UK on DVD, Blu-ray, and via various on-demand services, from today.

It placed 2nd on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2013, which can be read in full here.

The Dark Knight Rises (2012)

Posted on May 14, 2013 by badblokebob

After The Dark Knight’s runaway success, this trilogy-closer would inevitably disappoint some. It is imperfect, featuring a story so grandly complex that even the extensive running time fails to give it breathing space, and an occasional leap or fudged point requires audience thinking (which too few are capable of, apparently); but it also has its share of greatness.

It’s undeniably notable for being An Ending — superheroes don’t get endings. There’ll be a reboot, naturally, but no matter: Nolan’s Batman ends.

Whatever the flaws, there’s a rewarding experience here, albeit more comic-book-y than the real-world crime-thriller aspirations of its beloved predecessor.

The Dark Knight Rises placed 6th on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2012, which can be read in full here.

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

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

I have much more I could have said about The Dark Knight Rises, but damn I’m fed up with still having films from 2012 on my to-do list! A fuller piece may well accompany a re-watch in the future. For now, there’s always my initial thoughts.

Green Lantern: Extended Cut (2011)

Posted on May 9, 2013 by badblokebob

“Hype” has to be one of the biggest factors in how we view films these days. Technically it’s defined as “extravagant or intensive publicity”, I suppose thereby meaning something to “positive expectation”, but I think it also works the other way: if you’ve heard nothing but awful things about a film, its weakness has been ‘hyped’. It’s this latter point that applies to Green Lantern, which has an almost insurmountable degree of negative expectation attached. To summarise the headline points, it’s got a woeful rating of 26% on Rotten Tomatoes and took just $220m at the international box office, which might sound a lot but barely covers its production budget. So I expected to despise Green Lantern, or at least roll my eyes or twiddle my thumbs at its constant awfulness, but I actually quite enjoyed it.

And that’s why I talk about hype, because my expectation that the film would be irredeemably awful is at least partly why I found it surprisingly enjoyable — a bit like XMO Wolverine, which I didn’t like nearly as much when I watched it again a few years later. I’m not going to try to argue Green Lantern is a great movie, or even that it doesn’t contain significant flaws, but as a comic book-y two-hour diversion, I found it passably entertaining.

For those not in the know, the plot concerns Hal Jordan (Reynolds) finding a dead alien and a ‘magic’ ring that inducts him into a sort of intergalactic police force, the Green Lanterns. Stupid name and concept, attributable to it being a genuine magic thing before being reinvented as alien tech at some point, and perhaps it was the very daft datedness of the idea that (in part) put a mass audience off. But I digress. Cocky jocky Hal is whisked off to the other side of the galaxy to learn how to be a Hero and use his ‘magic’ ring, which can conjure stuff up, then returns to Earth to save it from some menace(s). As superhero origin stories go, at least it’s got a couple of differences.

Hal’s character arc — the cocky guy who’s actually got fears and insecurities due to the death of his father — is actually quite a good one; a neat twist on the usual hero archetypes. So many superheroes have a version of the “loved one died when I was young” thing, but for most it’s motivation to fight rather than a worry that holds them back. But that arc is underplayed almost to the point of being unnoticeable, so when Hal overcomes it in order to save the day, you barely register that he’s overcome anything. Which is a shame, because there was potential in that. You don’t necessarily expect depth of character from a blockbuster, but it does hold it back.

However, the film’s primary problem (at least for me) was a lack of threat; or, rather, a lack of urgency. There’s a great big devourer of worlds out there, but we never get the feeling it’s doing much harm to anyone. I mean, it is, but we don’t feel it. Even at the climax, when it sets course to Earth, it’s more of an understanding that our hero is going to save the planet, rather than a genuine sense of peril that Earth is under assault. Perhaps this stems back to characterisation: some of the cast are likeable enough; the others are bland enough to not be unlikeable; and that leaves us wanting for someone to root for.

There are positives. The action sequences are good, which is a definite plus in this kind of film. The inventiveness with what the ring can do is fun. There’s a lack of relation to the sketchily-drawn characters that stands in the way of us truly engaging with them, and there’s a certain brevity and lack of scale that undersells the alleged threat to Earth (it’s a giant evil space-cloud that can barely cover a few city blocks, let alone the entire planet) — but, that aside, they’re entertaining enough. That said, much as the film pulls its punches with characterisation and threat, so it does with awe and spectacle. The Lanterns’ planet Oa doesn’t have the same impact as Asgard in Thor, yet we’re told several times what a spectacular place it is.

The Blu-ray’s Extended Cut adds exactly 9 minutes and 39 seconds of new content (as ever, details can be found here). This is almost entirely a prelude sequence, showing the death of Hal Jordan’s dad. The sequence serves to flesh out the relationships between Hal, love interest Carol and future-villain Hector a little, but there’s not a lot gained that isn’t learnt elsewhere. It also breaks up the flow. I only watched the extended version in full, but I imagine it’s a smoother transition in the theatrical, rather than pinging back and forth between intergalactic goings-on and bits & bobs on Earth. The only other extension comes when Hal has a chat with his 11-year-old nephew. Conversely, this scene plays much better in the extended cut, and I’m not entirely sure why they felt the need to cut it.

Indeed, I’d say the Extended Cut doesn’t go far enough, with some of the disc’s deleted scenes meriting inclusion. However, the main one occurs on Oa, meaning an effects-heavy scene that hasn’t had CG work done or all the voices recorded, so couldn’t just be dropped back into the finished film as-is. I imagine that’s why it wasn’t. That said, even if they’d done such work, those scenes are minor points, not game-changers.

What an extended cut of Green Lantern should really have done is build character and emotional impact. The plot is decent enough, but the film rattles along and sticks purely to story — we never feel it. It is nice to have a blockbuster effects movie that comes in closer to two hours than three, but they used to be able to make those and have us care. Where’s that ability gone? The only relationship that gets any real screen time is the romantic one, and that’s a damp squib.

I quite enjoyed Green Lantern while watching it. I felt quite positive afterwards. But the more you think about it, the more you spot the lack of depth. Maybe that’s OK — maybe it’s fine for a film to just give passing pleasure while it’s on. It wouldn’t be good if every film operated at that level, but it’s a painless experience now and then. Still, I think there’s a better film lurking in Green Lantern, and it’s a shame it didn’t get the screenwriter(s) or director(s) required to bring it out. It’s even more of a shame that worse films than this have received a kinder critical consensus or huge box office. That leaves some suit feeling vindicated and churning out the same rubbish again, whereas with a bit more effort Green Lantern 2 could’ve been worthwhile.

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…

Ted (2012)

Posted on May 3, 2013 by badblokebob

The first film from Seth MacFarlane, creator of Family Guy and American Dad!, part-time Oscar host and Proms singer (I kid you not), is the story of a boy and his teddy bear. Lonely little John Bennett gets a teddy for Christmas when he’s eight, makes a wish that the bear will come alive, and so it does. It’s sweet and lovely, because it’s a teddy. Then it becomes famous and grows up and turns into a foul-mouthed pot-smoking layabout living with a thirtysomething John (Marky Mark Wahlberg) and his girlfriend (Mila Kunis). But he’s still a loveable bear. Kinda.

If you put together that plot description with “from the creator of Family Guy”, you get a pretty fair idea of what Ted’s like — and whether it’s for you or not. Sadly many people can’t do such simply maths, as evidenced by the swathes of bad reviews on LOVEFiLM, shocked by the film’s content. One moron even sat their little kids down in front of it, thinking it was a cute film about a cute talking bear being cute. Why do some people not research the films they show their kids? Even checking the certificate would’ve revealed it’s a 15 and not suitable for your 6 year old. But I digress.

Family Guy’s stock in trade is two things: non-sequiturs, which Ted replaces with a plot; and an edgy, borderline-offensive (or, to some people, offensive) sense of humour, which Ted retains, and in some cases pushes farther, unrestrained by the demands of US network TV. Personally, I like it, by and large. Some jokes cross the line into distasteful, but that’s par for the course. Some will find it all terribly juvenile. I was going to say you shouldn’t be expecting QI, but then they’ve been known to get sidetracked into some smutty laughs on occasion, so that may not be the best example.

The film’s low point is its plot. It’s stock rom-com territory, in which a happy couple (spoilers!) break up and (spoilers!) get back together, with a climax-providing subplot lifted from Toy Story 2. If you’re looking for an original or thought-provoking story, Ted won’t be the place to find it, though it makes a good fist of telling it. But really, the draw is the talking teddy, and how he relates to the world in a teddy-like fashion. So what if the main story is a rehash? Plenty of comedies do that every year without bothering to add anything original, at least here the reality of what would happen if a teddy magically came to life is considered, and quite nicely handled too.

Without meaning to spoil any laughs, standout segments include a running involvement of the ’80s Flash Gordon film, which long-term readers of this blog will know I love at least as much as John and Ted, which culminates in an amusing trip; a hotel room brawl between John and Ted (if you watch it on Blu-ray, the five-minute Teddy Bear Scuffle featurette is worth a look for how they did this); and a minor array of cameos, from who’s doing the voiceover to someone who turns up twice without a single line of dialogue.

Wahlberg performances swing between excellent (The Departed, I ♥ Huckabees) and awful (The Happening, Max Payne), seemingly at random, but here he’s closer to the former. MacFarlane voices Ted (as well as directing, co-writing and co-producing), which years of experience have left him very good at, even if he has to lampshade the fact he does sound rather like Peter Griffin. Among the rest of the cast, Mila Kunis is kinda unremarkable and kinda endearing, but either way surely beloved by teenage boys; Giovanni Ribisi turns up as a creepy loner (what else is new); and Patrick Warburton plays The Part Patrick Warburton Plays (what else is new).

(Incidentally, there’s also an unrated version of Ted, which is so shocking that in the UK we gave it a… 15. It’s about six minutes longer and includes some alternate material as well as extensions. I went with the theatrical version because, well, I did. As ever, there’s a full comparison here, or a simple list on IMDb if you prefer. For the dedicated, the Blu-ray also includes 15 minutes of deleted scenes and 10 minutes of alternate takes, but I don’t know if there’s any overlap between that material and the extended version.)

Ted is pretty much a walking talking definition of “not for everyone” — which is fine. If you like Family Guy, it’s definitely one to try (LOVEFiLM has plenty of “I love Family Guy but hated this grrr!” reviews too); if you dislike Family Guy, probably one to avoid; if you’ve never seen Family Guy, what can I say, that’s the standard reviewer’s barometer here. It is rude, is crude, and is mostly very funny. But, whatever you decide, don’t leave the kids with the movie about the talking teddy.

Ted joins the Sky Movies Premiere line-up today at 4:25pm, is on again at 8pm, and several times daily thereafter, as well as on all their on-demand services and whatnot.

Ip Man 2 (2010)

Posted on April 28, 2013 by badblokebob

aka Yip Man 2 / Ip Man 2: Legend of the Grandmaster

Picking up more or less where the first film left off, this sequel sees Ip and his family settled in Hong Kong, struggling to get by as he attempts to set up a Wing Chun school against opposition from the existing establishments.

The main thing to note about Ip Man 2 is that it has stunning fight sequences, especially a large sequence in the fish market and a one-on-one tabletop challenge. The latter sees star Donnie Yen take on legend Sammo Hung, which I imagine was a treat for genre fans (though it’s not their first encounter). For those of us less well versed in this world, it’s still a bloody good fight scene.

The first Ip Man was about considerably more than just action, but that’s where its sequel sets its focus. Human drama remains, but it doesn’t ring quite as true and perhaps isn’t trying to be as much of a feature as before. Ip Man’s relationships with his wife and with his students are hinted, told with plenty of shorthand — she’s pregnant, goes into labour just before his big fight (not that he knows), that kind of thing. They’re quickly tucked away as something for those really interested, rather than playing an essential part.

The only major downside comes when the Brits turn up for the final act. Stereotyped and poorly acted, presented with palpable jingoism and xenophobia, their presence and storyline drag the film down.

Still, at least it’s all wonderfully shot. Dismissing the clichéd desaturated look of the last film, here we get something a little more colourful, though never close to garish, with well chosen angles and superlative editing.

Ip Man 2 doesn’t have the same majesty as the first, but there’s an enjoyably pulpish sensibility in its place. Fast-moving and literally action-packed, on that level it entertains.

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…

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