Iron Eagle (1986)

Posted on January 13, 2011 by badblokebob

2010 #122
Sidney J. Furie | 112 mins | TV | 15 / PG-13

You know how sometimes you see a bit of a movie on TV and you end up watching just long enough to get caught up so much you’re in for the long haul, no matter what the quality? No? Maybe it’s just me (usually around this time of year, it seems). Iron Eagle is, naturally, my latest example of this phenomena.

Quite what drew me to Iron Eagle I’m not sure. Perhaps it was seeing a young David Suchet. Perhaps it was the ludicrous ease with which a bunch of teenagers pilfered a variety of highly sensitive materials from an airforce base in the sequence I happened to catch upon ending a recording I’d been watching. Whatever it was, after being suckered for ten minutes I had to rewind and give it a full go. (Sadly my digibox’s rewind didn’t quite get back to the beginning of the film, but I don’t think it’s likely to change my opinion.)

The whole of Iron Eagle is like the sequence I mentioned: daft and implausible. The plot, for those unaware of the film (which included me), is that an American pilot is captured by Qatar due to flying into their airspace, even though he was hundreds of miles outside it. When he’s sentenced to execution and the US Government refuses to do anything practical to get him back, his teenage son — who he’s been illicitly teaching to fly fighter jets — resolves to steal one and go get his dad. Hells yeah! Or something.

Like I said, daft and implausible. And that isn’t necessarily a problem, but as you watch Iron Eagle you can’t help but wonder if the filmmakers are trying to convince viewers it could be plausible. And it isn’t. Not in the slightest.

Suchet would make an excellent villain — the role he’s cast in — but he’s criminally underused. He’s even dispatched out of hand at the end. None of the other performances are really worth noting. Jason Gedrick, as the son, may look the part — in an ’80s kinda way — of the kid who’s actually a hot-shot pilot, but his acting chops are choppy. He went on to be in Boomtown, incidentally, a much underrated cop show that I really rather liked. I don’t really recall him in it.

Talking of Other Things People Have Done, did you recognise the director’s name? Furie helmed not only the risible Superman IV (I’m not sure I’ve seen all of that, but I’ve seen enough to know it’s risible) and… The Ipcress File. The Ipcress File! I’ve not seen that either, but I think we all know this is a serious step down. Poor man. His career went on to include Iron Eagle II and the direct-to-video Iron Eagle IV. Yes, there are four of them, and apparently they’re even worse and not in keeping with the spirit of this first. Poor man.

On the bright side, the son likes to listen to music while flying his fighter jet (as you can see, the plausibility just goes on and on), one of his choice tracks being Queen’s One Vision. Anything featuring a Queen song multiple times can’t be all bad.

Odd Man Out (1947)

Posted on January 11, 2011 by badblokebob

2010 #115
Carol Reed | 111 mins | TV | PG

It may be a bit of a cop out to begin a review by pointing you to another, but I must recommend Colin’s heartfelt appreciation at Ride the High Country. It certainly inspired me to watch the film, which had been sat on my V+ box for over a year. As you’re going to read that (assuming you haven’t already), I’ll just offer a couple of observations I jotted down.

The consciously episodic story, screenwritten by R.C. Sherriff, author of the exceptional World War One play Journey’s End, presents us with an array of characters. James Mason is ostensibly the star, but he spends much of the film in a daze, drifting from group to group. And that’s fine — it leaves the way open for other characters to shine. For instance I liked the driver, Pat, played by Cyril Cusack. My notes don’t say why, but I thought his character was rather good — not a good guy, perhaps, but a good character. The real star, if anyone, is Kathleen played by Kathleen Ryan, who comes into her own during the film’s final act and its conclusion. I’d throw an adjective in front of “conclusion”, but perhaps you should discover it for yourself.

This episodic structure does make for some lengthy, perhaps even borderline dull, asides. I could do without F.J. McCormick’s Shell and, especially, Robert Newton’s Lukey. (You’ll also note Newton’s performance is criticised in Colin’s piece so, in aid of not sounding like I’m too easily influenced, I’d like to point out I didn’t make the connection between his comments and my own notes on Newton until afterwards.) Shell and Lukey have a bit of a point in the end, but I didn’t enjoy getting through them in comparison to the rest of the film.

What the structure really facilitates is the depiction of a cross-section of Northern Irish life, and particularly their reaction to “the organisation” — it doesn’t take a genius to guess what that means. As the opening scroll said, this is indeed concerned “only with the conflict in the hearts of the people when they become unexpectedly involved”, but by leaving out detail of the politically contentious background to the unrest, it perhaps robs the characters’ indecision of any basis. All bar a couple of exceptions fall into the “don’t want to pick a side, don’t want to get involved” camp, foisting Johnny out of anything to do with them ASAP, but at least it suggests such a view was widespread across people of all backgrounds.

The score, by William Alwyn, is really nice, particularly in certain places — for example when it begins to snow and Johnny wanders the streets, or at its most effective during the haunting climax, as Kathleen hauls a near-dead Johnny through the falling snow towards the safety of the shipyard as the police finally close in.

My notes also say “discuss the use of the kids? And Johnny’s visions?” I’m afraid to say I forget why. Comments on these elements are welcomed.

I hesitate to make a comparison between Odd Man Out and The Third Man, director Carol Reed’s more famous film noir, because I’ve not seen the latter for far too long; but I imagine this holds its own, because it’s certainly an engaging and suitably unusual entry in the genre.

The Hurt Locker (2008)

Posted on January 3, 2011 by badblokebob

2010 #100
Kathryn Bigelow | 131 mins | Blu-ray | 15 / R

With 2011 underway we’re immediately heading deep into Awards Season, the time of year when everyone in the film world goes a bit mental and all the movies likely to win anything reach UK cinemas. The American Academy may nominate from throughout the year more readily now the Oscars have ten Best Picture slots, but it’s still not going to be a summer movie, is it. Not before The Dark Knight Rises anyway.

Unless it’s Inception.

(I’m not predicting The Dark Knight Rises is definitely going to win Best Picture, by-the-by, just that the fuss over The Dark Knight’s lack of a nod was half (or all?) the reason they doubled the nominees. Look, we’re getting distracted.)

What better time, then, to (finally) post a review of the last Best Picture winner — and 2010’s #100 to boot…

If you’ve ever seen the miniseries Generation Kill — the makers of The Wire do the invasion of Iraq, based on a book by one of the embedded journalists — then it might mean something if I say The Hurt Locker plays like Generation Kill: The Movie. Or perhaps another episode of that fine series, because it’s relatively low-key and everyday… as much as one can be about a bomb disposal unit in a warzone, that is.

I don’t mean this comparison as a bad thing — Generation Kill was an excellent series, and The Hurt Locker matches up to it. I also don’t mean to make a comparison in terms of content — the series follows troops at the front of the initial invasion (Band of Brothers: Iraq, if you can stand another HBO-based comparison), while the film is specifically about explosives experts during the occupation. The similarities are more stylistic — hot, dry locations and washed-out, hand-held cinematography (hardly innovative of either series or film, to be honest) — and thematic — the bonds between men in this particular war. I say “men”, I mean “soldiers”, but they are all men (in both series and film). The “gender in depiction of modern military” debate is for another time (and place) though.

Also like Generation Kill, The Hurt Locker is episodic, moving from one bomb-based set-piece to the next. But this is surely a realistic depiction of the environment and this job: these guys are going to go from one unrelated bomb to the next; they’re not going to end up on the tail of some master bombmaker, or single-handedly end the war in Iraq, or anything else one might construct as a coherent throughline for a film. What it has instead are subplots, largely based around the characters and their relationships to each other, which initially seem to crop up as slice-of-life asides before suddenly coming to the fore, usually to pack some kind of emotional punch — and, in at least one case, an equally affecting kick later on, too.

Bigelow & co construct each ‘action’ sequence with care and attention. They’re not action sequences in the truest sense — suggestions from some that she’d be a great director for, say, Bond 23 on the strength of this film are unwarranted (not that she wouldn’t be good, but this film’s action does nothing in particular to demonstrate appropriate skills). Instead of the fast-paced bullets-flying adrenaline-pumping sequences you get from An Action Movie, The Hurt Locker offers up more realistic (at least, realistic-feeling) sequences of tension as characters approach bombs, watch increasingly suspicious crowds, try to defuse the situation before the timer runs out… It could be clichéd — we’ve all seen plenty of bomb defusing scenes in movies before now — but, again, there’s a sense of “this is how it is”, rather than “this is how movies portray it for dramatic effect”. Is it how it is? I don’t know. But it certainly still packs dramatic effect.

Films sometimes struggle to create tension in sequences like these, but Bigelow achieves it by killing off any star that turns up. “OK,” you might say, “if they’re famous they die, if I don’t recognise them they’ll be fine.” Well, it’s not that simple. I was exactly that cynical going in, but still found myself agonising over who would or wouldn’t make it through, especially as we’re offered frequent reminders of how many days are left of their rotation — and, as we know from horrendous news stories, having “just one day left” is no guarantee you’re going home safely.

Repetition is avoided by mixing up the specifics of a sequence. Yes, many are variations on a theme, but so are most action movie shoot-outs or car chases — or rom-com love stories, or slasher horror movies, or any other genre you care to mention. What this film shows us, aside from the tension, is how different characters behave and react: James’ recklessness, for instance, which is contrasted with the more considered approach of Guy Pearce’s ill-fated character. Completely different is the sniper battle, not only because of the complete change of circumstance, but also because it’s drawn-out — Bigelow makes us feel some of the surrounded soldiers’ pain, lying still for hours in the baking sun, running out of fluids, just staring through a sniper scope at a heat-hazy vision of a far-off potential enemy.

The opening quote and closing scenes make explicit the main theme — war is a drug, one James (Oscar nominee Jeremy Renner) is addicted to — but I’m not sure how present this is in the body of the story. Rather, the majority feels like an attempt to convey the experience of living as an explosives expert in a warzone, with James’ ‘addiction’ just a side effect of that. Perhaps, then, it’s making its point more subtly than by battering you round the head with cinematic cries of, “He’s addicted to war! It’s just a drug!”

It doesn’t matter if it has a point to make about addiction or not. The Hurt Locker is still a tense, insightful evocation of what it feels like to be a bomb disposal expert in an active conflict; a dangerous job where each day really could be your last. The action sequences may not be Action Sequences in the way we’ve become accustomed too, and the narrative may be more episodic than a well-unified whole, and it may be readily reminiscent of other war films or series, and there are surely various other little factors people might pick on to criticise… but regardless of these, I thought The Hurt Locker was, from first to last, exceptional.

Toy Story 3 (2010)

Posted on December 26, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #114
Lee Unkrich | 103 mins | Blu-ray | U / G

Didn’t get Toy Story 3 for Christmas? Pick it up in the sales, then, because it’s bloody good.

Look:

Much was written about Toy Story 3 when it was released this summer, so I’m not sure how much I have to add, but here we go. It’s no surprise either — that’s what happens when a preeminent and popular studio releases a sequel to a beloved and acclaimed film franchise 11 years after the last instalment. High expectations abounded. For once, they weren’t necessarily unrealistic: if anyone could pull off such a feat, it’s Pixar.

It was somewhat amazing when Toy Story 2 equalled — some (including me) would say bettered — the first film. We may be more used to quality sequels these days but, as major franchises like The Matrix and Pirates of the Caribbean readily prove, they’re still far from guaranteed. To even try again with a threequel seems madness (no one’s told Chris Nolan this either, it seems). But they tried, and they succeeded: Toy Story 3 is at least the equal of the first two, if not once again slightly better — something that is, as far as my memory can muster, unheard of.

Individual adjectives serve admirably: it’s hilarious, emotional, exciting, scary; a great comedy, a great action/adventure. And Ken’s fashion show sequence is worth the price of admission all by itself. It’s kid-friendly, of course, but it’s not just for kids — it’s for young adults, who’ve grown up with these films and these characters and, in a way, are letting them go along with Andy; and for adults, who may have left childish things behind but can hopefully still appreciate the thematic sentiment.

Darker sequences support this interpretation, I think — the furnace climax, for instance, which carries a palpable sense, even to a savvy adult viewer, of “will they really do that?” doom. With the intention being that this is the series’ closing instalment — and with Andy grown up and leaving so that, however things end for the toys, this is The End for viewers — there are times when one wonders just how dark Pixar may be willing to push it. The potential that some or all of the toys may be lost along the way is a genuine fear, a move of blue-moon rarity for modern Children’s Films. This is in addition to the usual Pixar style of including jokes and references to skim over the kids’ heads.

I suppose TS3 may not be quite as effective if the first two films weren’t part of your childhood. I feel they were on the edge of mine — I was certainly too old to actually have any of the toys, for instance; I imagine anyone who had their own Buzz or Woody will feel even more emotional seeing them go through what they do here. Similarly, it pays to be aware of events and jokes in the preceding films. You don’t need to know intricate plot details, but there are plenty of pleasing references to catchphrases and moments.

Is Toy Story 3 faultless? Probably not. But I can’t think of any right now. Sublime.

Toy Story 3 placed 2nd on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2010, which can be read in full here.

Nanny McPhee (2005)

Posted on December 23, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #75
Kirk Jones | 94 mins | TV | U / PG

Nanny McPhee is brilliant. But to expand more directly on that sentence would be a conclusion, and so, before that, I present a collection of thoughts on bits I liked. Let’s call it “a review”.

The story is excellent, the kind of tale that imparts moral messages and lessons without you even realising — perfect for kids… and adults. It rattles along throughout, but particularly during the opening, which is surely what you want in a kids’ film: keep their attention! Emma Thompson’s screenplay is a delight. She’s in full control of her material, which allows her to set up rules — such as Nanny McPhee having five lessons to teach — and than almost immediately subvert them — though to tell you how would be to ruin a bit of the fun. Humour is rife, and without even realising it you develop a care for the characters.

Some have criticised the film for having no likeable characters. I can only think they were actually watching something else. Are the children a menace? Certainly — but they clearly have hearts of gold; they’ve been neglected and to an extent rejected; they’re acting up for attention. And they care about each other and always band together — they aren’t squabbling brats, they’re a gang, sticking together to defend themselves from a world that they perceive is out to get them. This is never clearer than when Angela Lansbury’s evil, rich Aunt turns up to take one away, and they do all they can to prevent it. And there are consequences; consequences, in fact, that matter to them, rather than more of the semi-neglectful treatment they’re used to.

And even if you can’t engage with the troublesome children, surely Nanny McPhee coming in to sort them out is therefore a blessing? To say the children are a naughty, nasty rabble but McPhee is an oppressive, overbearing force is just trying to have your cake and eat it — pick a side, or pick both, oh awkward viewer. (And by “viewer” here I mean “one IMDb commenter I read”.)

The cast are exemplary without exception. Thompson, ‘uglying up’ as the titular nanny, conveys all the quiet authority necessary at the start, then softens without ever losing the sense she’s doing what is required; as she states, she never chooses sides. Colin Firth is naturally suited to being a dashing-if-bumbling type, so is also spotless as the father who does care but has forgotten how to show it, with the weight of the realities of the world — otherwise known as Money — pressing down on him. They’re ably supported by an array of British talent: Celia Imrie as a pink, fluffy, and dastardly potential fiancee; Imelda Staunton as a beleaguered ex-army chef; David Jacobi and Patrick Barlow as a Tweedledum and Tweedledee-style pair of comedy funeral attendants; Angela Lansbury as the controlling old Aunt.

Not to mention Kelly MacDonald, the film’s sweetness and light — not like Anne Hathaway’s caricatured (deliberately) White Queen in Tim Burton’s Alice, thank goodness, but more Cinderella-y; the downtrodden but caring servant, who, when given the chance, — well, I wouldn’t want to spoil the ending. You’ll probably guess it anyway. But that’s not the point; indeed, that’s Good Writing, isn’t it — everything must be seeded well in advance, otherwise it’s all a deus ex machina. But this isn’t a time to rant about storytelling mores.

Even the rabble of children are pitch-perfect. With a cast this young that’s as much the skill of Thompson’s writing and Kirk Jones’ directing as any genuine acting talent, but that doesn’t make it any less of an achievement. As the eldest and therefore leader, Thomas Sangster is superb as ever. He gets the most to do, evolving from the awkwardest of the awkward to reveal intelligence and caring. The scene where he visits his father at work to ask him not to marry is almost heartbreaking, the boy’s well-meaning confused for his previous obstructiveness; and what he does next just shows how much he’s evolved. If there’s one flaw among the children it’s that Eliza Bennett (seen to good effect in Inkheart, shot just a year later) isn’t given much to do as the eldest girl; that’s an inevitable side effect when you’ve got a mass of kids fighting for time alongside several significant adult parts.

Around the large cast, there’s plenty more to see. The primary-coloured sets and costumes work marvellously, a delightful mash between reality (the actual buildings, sets, costumes, etc, all look real and period-accurate) and fantasy (the bright colours!) It could’ve been garish; instead, it’s vibrant. The effects are properly magical. They don’t overwhelm, always serving the story rather than themselves, which is probably what makes them all the more effective. The climax is another highlight — though what occurs at the wedding (oh, it’s obvious there’ll be one) I shan’t spoil by describing.

I confess, Nanny McPhee took me by surprise. It always sounded a bit too much like Mary Poppins; it might be passably nice but little more, I thought. But no. It’s its own film, with its own magical nanny. It’s a children’s film, but with plenty for adults to engage with — assuming it doesn’t simply unleash your inner child, which it may well do. It’s exciting, funny, touching, magical and charming, quite often all at once. It’s brilliant.

Nanny McPhee placed 5th on my list of The Ten Best Films I Saw For the First Time in 2010, which can be read in full here.

Tales of the Black Freighter (2009)

Posted on December 21, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #100a
Daniel DelPurgatorio & Mike Smith | 25 mins | DVD | 15 / R

In the world of Watchmen, superheroes are real, and so comics have turned to other avenues; mainly, pirates. Threaded through the novel is a boy reading one of these pirate comics, which we also get to see excerpts from, because it (rather obliquely) mirrors the arc of one of the tale’s major characters. As a comic-within-a-comic — indeed, a comic commenting on a comic — it works well as a conceit. But when it comes to adapting the novel to the big screen, how do you convert that?

In this case, as an animation… which was then removed from the feature. It’s back in the home-video-released Ultimate Cut though, which I’ll cover at a later date. First, what of Tales of the Black Freighter as a standalone animation, which is how it was released in the run up to Watchmen’s theatrical run last year.

Appropriately, the short emulates an ’80s Saturday morning cartoon style… albeit in cinematic widescreen, evocative 5.1 Surround Sound, and with horrific R-rated gore. Yes, this probably wouldn’t actually have been shown on Saturday morning TV, even in America. Nonetheless, considering Watchmen’s ’80s setting, it’s a solid choice for this adaptation, which could well have gone down a more modern-styled route.

The story itself is a bit slight. It barely runs 20 minutes once you take off credits at either end, and even at this length feels a little drawn out. It’s a morality play, one that it would take mere minutes to cover the key points of, including a twist ending that seemed surprising in the original. Knowing what was coming, I can’t say if it’s as surprising on screen as it felt on the page; the cartoon is at the disadvantage of presenting the story in one 20-minute chunk, whereas in the graphic novel it’s scattered in small chunks throughout, delaying the reveal and making it harder to piece together the clues.

Overall, however, I did find the story easier to follow in this form. Perhaps Zack Snyder and Alex Tse’s screenplay strips away some of Alan Moore’s typically pretentious narration, or perhaps it was just the benefit of consuming it in one sitting rather than in morsels woven through an already-complex narrative, but keeping track of what’s happening is easier here. Does it lose something when taken out of that context though? Probably, but then I never felt it added much to the graphic novel in the first place. It’ll be interesting to see how it fits into the film when I finally get round to watching The Ultimate Cut — I already have some reservations waiting to be expressed in my review.

I did enjoy Tales of the Black Freighter, though I wouldn’t readily recommend it to others without specific reason. One can easily imagine it as an episode of an anthology series about this mysterious vessel; indeed, thinking of it that way makes me long to see more episodes. But it’s still an odd tale, one created primarily to serve a purpose alongside the main story of Watchmen. I think it does stand alone, but in doing so it becomes reliant on the final twist, which takes a time coming. I’m not sure how many would be interested in the story if they weren’t fans of the novel or film.

It’s got an excellent song over the end credits, mind. Definitely the highlight.

Rambo III (1988)

Posted on December 20, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #119
Peter MacDonald | 97 mins | TV (HD) | 18 / R

As I mentioned in my review of the preceding Rambo film, Rambo III is the one Hot Shots! Part Deux really took to task, and not without reason. Having seen that spoof several times since my youth, a few large chunks of this second sequel felt all too familiar…

Stallone — here serving as writer and star — does leave his character rather open for mockery. Rambo lives as a recluse in a monastery, helping them perform repairs on their temple. Except when he stick-fights for “a little extra money”, and then when he goes off to Afghanistan to defeat half the Russian army single-handed. He does all this showcasing the body of a plastic action figure coated in a year’s supply of Johnson’s Baby Oil, using weapons like explosive-tipped arrows, good for tasks like taking out helicopters. Or obliterating individual soldiers.

It’s thoroughly OTT at every turn, but unfortunately comes several decades before the Ironic Action Movie — unlike Shoot ‘Em Up or (what I’ve read about) The A-Team, it doesn’t know it’s ridiculous.

This is underscored by Stallone again attempting to pack heavy-duty political relevance into the plot. This time it’s Afghanistan, occupied by the Russians with American-supported rebels resisting. How times have changed. Indeed, the situation that area of the world finds itself in now does add a different colour to the film — some might argue the Americans now occupy almost the same position the Russians did back then, for instance — but I’ll leave the specifics of such things to reviewers more versed in the last 25 years of Western intervention in the Middle East.

And did you know, this was the most expensive movie ever made at the time of its release? I didn’t. So there you go.

Rambo III is surely entertaining for some action movie fans, but I can’t say I found it particularly satisfying. Attempts at making a serious political point are misplaced in such a ridiculously implausible action movie, while the action itself is passable rather than particularly enticing. If I were in a generous mood I might afford it an extra star, but I think I’d rather watch a Hot Shots.

~~Rambo III is showing on ITV4 and ITV4 HD tonight at 11pm.~~
Rambo III is on ITV4 tonight, Tuesday 11th February 2014, at 10pm.

Star Trek: Nemesis (2002)

Posted on December 18, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #107
Stuart Baird | 112 mins | TV (HD) | 12 / PG-13

After the widespread disappointment with Insurrection, the ninth big screen outing for Star Trek, fans hoped the tenth, Nemesis, would mark a return to their old adage “even ones good, odd ones bad.” They had reasons to be hopeful: a new director, an Oscar-nominated screenwriter, and (potentially) the final outing for the beloved Next Generation crew. Surely they’d be given a fitting send-off?

Sadly, it wasn’t to be: Nemesis was a critical and commercial flop, the only Trek not to open at #1 in the US, the lowest-grossing of the entire franchise. And quite rightly, because it isn’t very good.

While Insurrection was accused of being dull because it was largely about a dispute over who got to live on a planet, the political side of that kept it engaging. Nemesis’s plot, on the other hand, just doesn’t go anywhere fast. Attempts to liven it up with some action sequences often come off as tacked-on asides, while discussions about just who Picard’s clone is and what he wants feel hollow — of course he’s a nasty piece of work, otherwise your film is completely villain-free!

Picard’s clone is played not by Patrick Stewart, but by a shaved Tom Hardy. Yes, that Tom Hardy. We should be glad Nemesis didn’t kill off his career, which at the time consisted of small roles in Band of Brothers and Black Hawk Down but has gone on to acclaimed leads (or other significant parts) in TV such as Stuart: A Life Backwards, Oliver Twist and Wuthering Heights, and on the big screen in Bronson, Inception and (soon) The Dark Knight Rises and Mad Max 4. He’s not got much to work with here, though the knowledge of better things to come means his presence somehow lifts his scenes a notch.

The film ends with the most pointless heroic sacrifice I’ve seen for a while. OK, the well-loved character’s dead, but that identical clone — you know, the one they downloaded all the character’s memories into — is still hanging around. Give me strength.

It’s a shame the Next Generation lot had to go out on such a duff note, their series of movies conforming more to the usual sequel pattern of diminishing returns (their first, First Contact, is highly praised, with the next two increasingly slated) than the original series crew’s good/bad alternation. Still, at least it cleared the way for what Trek probably needed more than anything: a good, clean, rebooting.

The Outrage (1964)

Posted on December 14, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #116
Martin Ritt | 92 mins | TV | 12

If you’ve ever seen Akira Kurosawa’s classic Rashomon, the opening minutes of The Outrage will leave you in no doubt that you’re watching a Hollywood remake. From the dilapidated-location-in-heavy-rain opening scene on, Michael Kanin’s screenplay sticks closely to Kurosawa’s, and Martin Ritt’s direction doesn’t stray too far either. But don’t mistake this effort for a thoroughly pointless rehash a la Gus Van Sant’s Psycho — though it can’t better the original, The Outrage has much going for it.

Naturally the story is as fascinating as ever, not just for the fact it offers different versions of what happened, but for what the protagonists feel the need to modify in their accounts — after all, they’re happy to confess to several crimes, so why obscure the facts in other ways. Was Rashomon so conclusive, though? I don’t remember it being so. Yes, The Outrage’s final retelling is still just one person’s perspective, but it’s set up as an objective and definitive one. Plus I didn’t get what was going on with the crying baby, which I seem to remember being in Rashomon but I don’t recall being baffled by. Maybe that’s just me.

Kanin’s reconfiguration of the story as a Western is seamless thanks to numerous intelligent tweaks and changes — if you didn’t know this wasn’t the tale’s original location, you’d have no reason to suspect otherwise. Ritt backs it up with some striking cinematography. It might not be as innovative as Kurosawa’s camera-into-the-sun antics, but he still produces a good-looking and meticulously composed picture.

Paul Newman is excellent, unrecognisable under thorough makeup and consistent characterisation as Mexican outlaw Carrasco. The rest of the fairly starry cast are also very good, the majority treated to interestingly conflicted or gradually revealed characters, not least Claire Bloom as the rape victim and possible murderess — and possibly many other things, depending which version you choose to believe; and possibly all of them, too.

The Outrage doesn’t seem to be very well remembered, rarely seeming to qualify even as a footnote in discussion of Rashomon (unlike, say, The Magnificent Seven for Seven Samurai), which I think is unfair. There wasn’t much chance Ritt’s film could outdo the original at its own game, but what it does manage is the almost-as-impressive achievement of retelling the story differently, and well.

The Outrage is showing on More4 tomorrow, Wednesday 15th December, at 11:20am.

Verity (2010)

Posted on December 12, 2010 by badblokebob

2010 #118a
Stephen Cheung | 9 mins | streaming

There’s probably a worthwhile biopic to be made about Verity Lambert. In 1963, she became not only the youngest-ever producer of a BBC television programme, but the first female one too; the programme she was charged with launching was Doctor Who, which she took from a short-commission no-hoper to a firm part of the national culture — and we all know what’s happened to it since she left in 1965. Her extensive career continued until her death in 2007, encompassing such televisual landmarks (for good or ill) as The Naked Civil Servant, Quatermass, Minder, G.B.H., Eldorado and Jonathan Creek.

This nine-minute effort from student screenwriters Thomas Cowell and Joey Guy is, unsurprisingly, not that biopic. Wisely, it focuses on the start of Lambert’s producing career, dramatising the events around her being chosen by Sydney Newman (then the BBC’s Head of Drama) to shepherd his idea for an educational science-fiction children’s drama, its initial ratings failure and, shortly after, its ratings success. The film’s tagline — “men, bitches and Daleks” — sums up its thematic concerns: Lambert argues with the man who hired her, faces animosity from other female members of staff, and saves the day by forcing the Daleks into the series despite Newman’s forbiddance.

Before I set off really critiquing the film, let’s just remember this: it’s a student effort. In that context, I’ve seen far worse — heck, I’ve been involved in the production of worse. Cowell and Guy have set themselves an almost Herculean task by choosing a period tale, which obviously necessitates all sorts of extra effort in terms of costumes, locations, dialogue… And to make it worse, they’ve chosen the ’60s, evoked so faultlessly in almost 40 hours (and counting) of Mad Men. Of course a low/no-budget student film can’t compete with an expensive, acclaimed US TV series; and actually, Verity does a fair job of recreating its era… visually.

The comparison with Mad Men comes up in more than just the visuals though, because that also deals extensively with gender politics in the ’60s. Here, Verity can’t compete. Dialogue is too on the nose — some of the language they use freely is implausible for the era; the way they often bluntly state their point is implausible for any time. “I’m making history” is an unlikely thing for anyone to say ever.

In terms of these specific events, it doesn’t fare much better. Accuracy to facts can occasionally be ignored if it makes for a good story, and Verity’s outright rebellion against Newman’s “no bug-eyed monsters” mandate might appear to be that, but its execution is left wanting. She storms into his office and informs him the Daleks will be in the series, which he accepts with merely a muttered “damn” when she leaves. Sorry, what? There’s nothing believable in that scene, never mind accurate.

After the ratings success of the Daleks’ first appearance, Newman can’t help but think of the “merchandising opportunities”. Really? A lot of stuff was indeed produced during Dalekmania in the mid-’60s, but this is still the state-funded BBC and 14 years before Star Wars — not to mention that Verity brandishes a Dalek toy, which wouldn’t be produced until 1965. (If you really want it rubbed in, the prop she’s holding is clearly a new series toy.)

Ten minutes isn’t much to play with, true, but I think it’s fine for a version of this story. Cowell and Guy have picked their scenes well, it’s just that the actions and words they’ve filled the scenes with don’t ring true. This is only partially the fault of the cast’s rampant overacting — though, in fairness, I think Rachel Watson is fighting against an affected southern/period accent as Verity, and Brian Clarke gives quite a good performance as Newman.

Technically, the piece is just as much a mixed bag. Stephen Cheung’s direction picks out some decent angles, avoiding the flat point-and-shoot trap some student filmmakers are apt to fall into, while the sepia-ish wash helps the period tone and adds a small amount of welcome gloss. The editing is a little rough around the edges, particularly at scene changes and toward the end. YouTube claims it’s viewable in 1080p — whether something went wrong in shooting, editing or at YouTube’s end I don’t know, but it isn’t that high quality. (This last point doesn’t impact on my score at all, it’s just an observation.)

I’d like to say Verity is a good effort, but though it has a few things going for it — and even allowing for the fact it’s a student film — it would clearly benefit from better research and greater subtlety in characters’ actions and dialogue. Must try harder.

Verity is available on YouTube.

Three years later, the BBC told the same story in Mark Gatiss’ TV movie An Adventure in Space and Time, which is properly brilliant.

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