Review: Spectre

Year: 2015
Director: Sam Mendes
Screenplay: John Logan, Neal Purvis, Robert Wade, Jez Butterworth
Starring: Daniel Craig, Christoph Waltz, Léa Seydoux, Ben Whishaw, Naomie Harris, Dave Bautista, Andrew Scott, Monica Bellucci, Ralph Fiennes

Synopsis is here:

The returning adventures of Bond are a mixed affair. Hoyte van Hoytema brings across some gorgeous warm visuals. The film’s opening sequence is one of pure spectacle and delivers that Bond style thrills that one would hope for (as does a particular explosion later on). These things and a few other things in Spectre helped distract me from the usual concerns I hold with other Bond films of the past which often involve our favourite drunken misogynist having to navigate tiringly convoluted plots.

Nods to previous alliterations and versions of Bond were understandable in previous films. Die another Day, for instance, was not only celebrating the 40 year anniversary of Bond on film, but was also the 20th official film in the franchise. Coming out two years after the turn of the millennium, with such a self-aware actor as Bond made sense at the time. All in spite the film’s weak execution.
Spectre’s wish to remind viewers of the Connery’s white Tux from Goldfinger (1964), over-elaborate villains’ lairs and Charles Bronson-esque henchmen are cute enough. Yet such elements now seem flimsy. Particularly as Daniel Craig’s stint as Bond has strived hard to incorporate a more modern view of the character, after the franchise found itself looking outmoded in comparison to the likes of Bourne.

The likes of Casino Royale and Goldeneye, melded the modern with tradition, and did so comfortably. However Mendes’ second undertaking of the Bond series, loses much of that dour retrospection that gives Skyfall (amongst much of Craig’s Bond entries) such an intriguing appeal. The film’s secondary plot, involving national surveillance, is actually quite appealing in its relevance. Unfortunately Spectre must make sure that Bond seduces a lady to advance the so called real story. No matter how little chemistry Craig has with Monica Bellucci. Does it matter that the sequences comes off as wildly forced? Or a waste of such a quality actress? Nope, Bond must get his end away at least twice. No matter how laboured it may feel.

Spectre (and perhaps much of the newer Bond’s) still struggles with some of the retrograde trappings of the character. Sometimes when the stars align, it doesn’t matter. Other times such as here, everything feels off. Craig’s performance sounds resigned and tired. We’re left to wonder if that’s the character or the actor coming through. After Craig’s recent comments, it’s hard not to think it’s the latter.

There’s still fun to be had with Spectre. Giving Q (Whishaw) and Moneypenny (Harris) more to do is a nice touch. Despite a well spoilt revelation (due to hunches, marketing hype and weak scripting), Spectre holds an excruciatingly painful torture sequence which works incredibly well in the grand scheme of things. Andrew Scott is a fine addition to the film and while, despite looking a little tired with it all, Craig is still an interesting figure as Bond.

Annoyingly, Spectre’s third act tries quite hard to dismantle the more alluring directions that Bond had been heading in. It's rushed A to B plotting hurriedly accumulates to an inelegant climax, which only frustrates, as it balances on a decision that rings quite false of the character. The toning down of Bond in his more unfavourable traits, may not appeal to everyone, but are understandable. The awkward compromise which goes against one of the key elements of Bond's complex dynamics, is uncomfortable. Even for a causal Bond fan.

Spectre will certainly have its fans, and is far from the worst Bond film ever made. Be that as it may, as the credits roll, it was hard not to think of one of my favourite Radiohead songs. No Surprises.

Review: Crimson Peak

Year: 2015

Director: Guillermo del Toro

Screenplay: Guillermo del Toro, Matthew Robbins

Starring: Mia Wasikowska, Jessica Chastain, Tom Hiddleston

Synopsis is here

Crimson Peak, Crimson Peak, where the women are strong and the men are weak. Guillermo Del Toro’s English language ode to his Spanish language gothic drama, is an opulent, female driven beast that leans more towards Jane Austin than Ju-on.  

Wonderfully carried by a spirited Mia Wasikowska performance, this gullet slicing melodrama is something that will likely frustrate those who fell for its dubious horror-only marketing guff. The approach from the studios has appeared to be so incorrect, that the director himself had to reinforce his intentions beforehand.

Such is the linear view of movies these days, I wouldn’t be surprised that people went into Crimson Peak expecting The Conjuring. I don’t believe many expected heavy references to the literature such as the likes of Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca (famously adapted by Hitchcock in 1940 and gloriously highlighted here by a deranged Jessica Chastian performance). Nor do I feel that the so called “average audience” was interested in the lighter references to the likes of Nosferatu (1922) or even the meta winks to English hammer horror (Our lead protagonists surname? Cushing). Touches like this would probably be deemed uninteresting to a crowd looking for Paranormal Activity jumps.

The feverish love for the gothic melodrama, as well as the exquisite visual design, is why this blogger adored much of Crimson Peak. It’s a film which delights itself in the mood, it creates over rigid obedience over narrative. The film gracefully defies logic. The murderous, over-elaborate plot dodges any typical rationale. Meanwhile pure white snow falls delicately over the blood red clay which Allerdale Hall resides on. A grand, decaying, English mansion seemingly miles from anywhere. 

Nowhere in England looks like this. It all feels like something out of a monstrous fairy tale.

This is what Del Toro wants. It is not a film about particulars, unless it involves references to literature. The visuals help pronounce the madness. The cast is dialled to eleven, while the setting provides the psychoanalysis with Allerdale's rotten walls and sickly green lighting. It’s a film that once again highlights Del Toro’s main interest. The monstrous designs that lie within humans and how it corrupts the environment around them.

There’s ghosts and things that go bump in the night within Crimson Peak. However Del Toro’s feature is far more infatuated in those small creepy inklings that tingle the spine, over cheaper shock tactics. It’s a ghost story that is told in the way that only Guillermo can tell them. In bold, broad and intense emotions.

The Falling

Year: 2015
Director: Carol Morley
Screenplay: Carol Morley
Starring: Maxine Peake, Maisie Williams, Florence Pugh

Synopsis is here:

Shades of Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975) linger within Carol Morley’s wispy mystery The Falling. Nevertheless, this is a compelling piece which finds its own way. It does so with a similar dreamy abstruseness as Peter Weir’s seminal feature, all the while holding a comparable sense of rebellion that made Lindsay Anderson’s If…(1968). Although it is not as forcible.

The Falling’s allure stems from its main conceit. In which an epidemic of falling fits occurs throughout a rural Catholic school. Is it a group exploration into grief? A sudden, unified event of mass hysteria? Whatever it may be, the source seems to stem from the troubled Lydia (Maisie Williams), whose admiration and envy of her former best friend; Abbie (Florence Pugh) causes an inner turmoil that becomes difficult to repress.

The Falling is an often gorgeous accumulation of anxiety and sensuality. It doesn’t pull the emotional chords as well as Morley’s heart-breaking 2011 documentary Dreams of a Life. However, Morley’s eye for evocative visuals and dreamy transitions, along with her ability to coax much from the seemingly minor details of trembling hands and teasing looks, creates a palpable and lingering tension out of a strange and beguiling mystery.

Review: Results

Year: 2015

Director: Andrew Bujalski

Screenplay: Andrew Bujalski

Starring: Guy Pearce, Cobie Smulders, Kevin Corrigan

Synopsis is here:

The romcom hasn’t died. It’s just gone indie. It’s also reworked itself somewhat. Results has popped up the on streaming feed and illustrates just why the likes of Netflix have become so valuable for film fans. At its best, Results sometimes brings the type of chuckles that wouldn’t be too out of place of a more typical romantic comedy. Although the film rolls at such a peculiar pace and rhythm that it could never be sold as a Nora Ephron.

Streaming is the best place for a film like this. Its story drapes baggily over the films jagged characters. There’s no Hanks/Ryan relationships here. There is, however, a delightfully screwed up love triangle involving an all too trusting Guy Pierce, a bitterly acerbic Colby Smulders and an unkempt and schlubby Kevin Corrigan.

There’s good chemistry here, along with some nicely awkward gags. All played out in Andrew Bujalski’s strangely untroubled style. His laid back direction hasn’t changed much since his debut feature; Funny Ha, Ha (2002). Here with a larger budget, however, he shows his comfort with his craft. He’s perhaps a tad too at ease with everything. Results’ languid style can make you wonder why a film like this is as long as it is.

Not to complain too much though. Results, like Bujalski’s Computer Chess is fascinated by broken communication and the importance of repair. Before it was personal computers, this time its the physical body. Yet in the foreground, it’s always relationships that slip in between the hobbies that keep Bujalski’s characters up at night.  

Review: Macbeth

Year: 2015
Director: Justin Kurzel
Screenplay: Todd Louiso, Jacob Koskoff, Michael Lesslie
Starring: Michael Fassbender, Marion Cotillard, Paddy Considine, Sean Harris, Jack Reynor, Elizabeth Debicki, David Thewlis

Synopsis is here:

Note: Spoilers are featured, but I’d be slightly worried if you don’t know the story.

Despite his status as the world’s greatest playwright, for many, the name William Shakespeare only provides recollections of dog eared worn school books. Possibly with drab, seemingly never ending lessons. Will is the most important English writer, but how he’s taught can often be a dour experience.

Enter Snowtown director Justin Kurzel’s Macbeth, which could possibly revive those half-forgotten memories of lost afternoons buried in reference books. This adaptation isn’t by no way horrible to look at. Its lavish cinematography is light years ahead of the Shakespeare animated tales that this blogger had to watch. Despite this, through the gloomy mist and ground muddied by split blood and sweat, Kurzel’s Macbeth is a peculiarly subdued adaptation.

The beauty of cinematic adaptation, fanboys be damned, is what another pair of hands can do to mold the clay. Here Kurzel works with what he’s known for: getting down with the dirt. Much like Snowtown, you can feel the grit under the nails of everyone involved. The secondary actors, who speak with genuine Scottish accents are distracting at times, but only due to the nature of how often Shakespeare is displayed to us. Such naturalistic tones along with the simple set design and Barry Lyndon style low lighting, keeps the atmosphere of the piece as rough as it can be.

In terms of aesthetic This is a rugged and raw Macbeth, which can clearly be seen from the cast that’s been picked. The likes of Paddy Considine and Sean Harris are actors that can convey the kind coarseness that Kurzel is clearly aiming for. The main players of Michael Fassbender and the wide eyed Marion Cotillard are also game. Capturing the desperation and guilt of the Macbeth couple as they grasp for power and disintegrate because of it. Fassbender seemed to have been made for such a role. After the execution of his gutless deed, we witness a dogged Macbeth lie next to the murdered King in a moment of anxiety and foreboding. It’s a slight moment, but one that exposes the inverted vulnerability that Fassbender could do in his sleep.

Through the sweat and dirt, however, there’s a lack of urgency through most of the piece. There’s much to try and take from Macbeth. From its operatic opening sequences to slow motion battle sections. The film’s score is one that howls and squeals like the Highland winds. Add to this the dramatic performances and it’s seems to be a relatively solid adaptation.

Despite this, there doesn’t seem to be anything to full grip on to. This Macbeth is a subdued and slippery beast. It almost feels as it is covered in the same claret that coats Macbeth’s treacherous hands. It gives us little else than a simple telling of the tale.

This is where the beauty of adaptation comes in. You can give us something else. This Macbeth is released at a time where many feel our leaders feel more disingenuous than ever before. Meanwhile, our media douse us with a type of paranoia that previous dictators would happily pay for. Yet, Kurzel and the three screenwriters only really muddy the aesthetic. This is an adaptation that may not wish to be tainted with anything that may date it within the era it was made. However, apart from hushed renditions of some of the bard’s most recognised soliloquys and Macbeth’s madness being observed as a type of PTSD, we’re given little complexity or definition.

The beauty of Shakespeare isn't just in the words (although Fassbender and Cotillard have an eloquent command of the dialogue) but in what else you can bring to the adaptation. The source is strong and always will be, but in the end Macbeth feels as airy and tenuous as the three witches who haunt Macbeth’s dreams and battlefields.

Review: The Martian

Year: 2015

Director: Ridley Scott

Screenplay: Drew Goddard

Starring: Jessica Chastain, Kristen Wiig, Jeff Daniels, Michael Peña, Kate Mara, Sean Bean, Sebastian Stan, Aksel Hennie, and Chiwetel Ejiofor

Synopsis is here:

There is a solid argument which considers that The Martian is a safe film. A film that answers that leaves no frayed ends. Any questions asked, are quickly answered. It’s a film with no typical conflict. Yet when Ridley Scott leaves things open ended (Prometheus) or delivers a dangerous, uncompromising feature (The Counsellor) the filmmaker is quickly disregarded. The Martian almost plays out less like a resigned “I give up” and more like a brash “fuck you” to naysayers. If it’s a safe movie you want (and the expansion of all franchises ever claim you do), then Mr Scott is going to provide the most polished “safe” movie he can provide.

For a film which holds a running time that’s safely over two hours, Scott’s ode to progressive humanity briskly moves with an unexpected swiftness. Quickly landing us within the films predicament, The Martian shows what an entertaining craftsman Scott can be. The Martian finds itself in similar territory to Unstoppable (2010), directed by Ridley’s late brother Tony. The world and set up are quickly established so the film can get on to what it really wants to talk about: Human co-operation.

Much like Unstoppable, The Martian doesn’t really have much in the way of conflict. Unlike Alien (1979), this isn’t about petty hostility paving the way for larger animosity. The Martian actually invests its time in showing human capabilities. It mines enjoyment from intelligent people doing smart and considered things.Matt Damon’s everyman likability help provide a solid foundation to the proceedings. Damon’s Mark Watney, the unfortunate interplanetary castaway, never feels like an empty audience vessel, nor does his ability to his way through particular circumstances feel like a cheat. Much of this is down to Drew Goodard spry script, along with Ridley’s direction. The heavier moments (budget talk, the science, and the media circus) never feel heavy. The film plays with the right sense of broadness in mind.

As The Martian expands, so too does the involvement of the film’s ample cast. Scott, who went under fire for his casting choices and comments on Exodus: Gods and Kings, now delivers a diverse and multi-cultural cast which spans from America through to China. Of course, there’s still complaints of the film whitewashing certain characters based on assumptions. This is also in spite of the author not being explicit with the character representation. Due to the film doing much to invest in a diverse cast, such criticisms should really fall to the wayside. It should be said, however, that a few of the films female characters seem to lack a sense of agency and felt more like a collection of reaction shots than fully fleshed out characters. Yet it’s still important to see everyone with a particular role to play, and The Martian endeavours to highlight this in the film's politics.

Such an argument is clearly observed with the role of Rich Purnell played by Donald Glover. One can debate that Glover’s role is small and collection of clichés. But we must also contend with the fact that Purnell’s role within the plot is not only pivotal but could possibly hold one of the most inspirational representation of Afro-Americans in 2015. The role of Purnell is a microcosm of the Watney’s situation as well as the film’s theme: No matter how small, you hold an importance. We hold an importance.

The Martian seems influenced from not only lesser known sci-fi such as Silent Running (1972) and Moon (2009) but also more populist features such as Interstellar (2014) as well as Scott’s own Alien (1979) and Prometheus (2013). Damon has also mentioned that the likes of Touching the Void (2003) is an inspiration.  It’s a testament to Scott’s craft on just how well he melds these elements into such a crowd pleasing compound. The Martian’s ability to make its humour, science and stakes so palatable and balanced is amongst its best features. But add to that the film’s gorgeous visuals, dynamic set pieces and dependable performances and the result is one of the most enjoyable mainstream productions of the year. Safe? Perhaps, but The Martian is a blockbuster that is willing to highlight bravery and smarts over superpowers and preordained destiny as heroic. In the current environment, it actually feels quite daring.

Review: Legend

Year: 2015

Director: Brian Helgeland

Screenplay: Brian Helgeland

Starring: Tom Hardy, Emily Browning, David Thewlis, Duffy, Christopher Ecclestone, Chazz Palminteri

Synopsis is here

Emily Browning has recently spoken out about the discrepancy in women's roles in comparison to Mens. The actress rightly questions why we see so many flat female characters who don't "act like human beings" and has called for female roles with greater autonomy and there's many out there who would wholeheartedly agree. However, in watching Browning's one note portrayal of Frances Shea; tragic wife of Reggie Kray, in Legend, one may have to search elsewhere for the thorough portrayals that the actress yearns for.

It's easy to slight Browning's performance. From the dubious cockney accent to the horridly dry narration that flutters in and out of the film, but it's not the actress's fault, although she has been better. There's a feeling that the material has left her out to dry somewhat. Browning may be riling against the vapid "hot babe" model that we witness constantly in films, but her performance has Frances never really shifts a gear. She looks glamourous when she has to be, and distressed when she doesn't have to look good. Browning narrates the film in order for the audience to see it from her point of view. However the screenplay by writer/director Brian Helgeland is a rather sour piece that's more interested in informing us rather than feeling anything. Constantly the film will joylessly tell us what's on screen rather than allowing the audience to infer for themselves via the camera or performances. It jars with the films already bumpy rhythms. Instead of seeing Browning emote fully, the voice over is quick to tell us how to feel. 

Browning, as well as much of the top quality cast, is pushed to the edges by a dominating Tom Hardy, who holds dual roles as both the infamous Kray twins, Reggie and Ronnie. This is a showcase for the charismatic actor who takes what could have been a cheap gimmick (it uses some Social Network style image trickery) and puts forth two remarkable displays. Reggie has the cocksure swagger, while Ronnie is clouded by intense paranoia. The beauty of Hardy's performances are in the small details and differences. Even the poise and murmurs from either brother is vastly different. In terms of performance it always feels like you're watching two different people. 

Mentioning Tom Hardy's superlative displays, only makes the rest of the film pale even more in comparison. Minus Hardy, and Legend is a rather listless affair. Much like how the brothers hid their brutal crimes around a veneer of celebrity, the film does a great job of hiding a lot of the nastiness that ensued. Legend enjoys claiming that it's coming from the eyes of those who knew the brothers, but the film often seems so preoccupied with infusing a Goodfellas-lite charm to the brothers, that it forgets just how well the best gangster films balance the ugliness with the romance. Helgeland clearly has certain cinematic influences on his mind in his visualisation of this, and the film holds enough humour and brutality that may appease casual gangster fans. However, for the most part, Legend is over egged, overlong and lacks the kind of energy that would make it stand out in a line up.   

Review: Inside Out

Review: Inside Out
Year: 2015
Director: Peter Docter
Screenplay: Pete Docter, Meg LeFauve, Josh Cooley
Starring: Amy Poehler, Phyllis Smith, Bill Hader, Lewis Black, Mindy Kaling, Richard Kind, Kaitlyn Dias, Diane Lane, Kyle MacLachlan

Synopsis is here:

It’s easy to say that Inside Out is a return to form for Pixar, who have “struggled” with their recent output. Yet even the studio’s weaker efforts are of a higher standard than regular mainstream Hollywood output. Despite the amount of distain critics gave the likes of Brave (2012), it’s still a film with stronger storytelling and jokes than say, Let’s be Cops (2014). It’s more mature too.
However, this latest entry into the Pixar chronicles, certainly deserves to be in the upper echelons of their hall of fame. It’s a movie that shows that once again, when Pixar land upon the right concept that fits their own particular brand of emotional storytelling, they really hit the mark.

The likes of Wall-E (2008) took their characters into the far reaches of outer space. Now we approach inner space as we navigate the universe of the human body. Not just any human body, but that of an 11 year old girl. Inside Out is set in the mind of Riley, who has just been informed by her parents that they will be moving from the Midwest to San Francisco. Her emotions - Joy, Sadness, Disgust, Anger and Fear - who control and shape Riley soon find themselves in an inner conflict as they try re-examine and manoeuvre around the new and dramatic changes that are occurring around them.

What makes this premier Pixar is the sharpness of execution. The concepts that the film are placing forth are deceptively complex when we place them in consideration, yet Pete Docter’s film delicately implements the profundity of human emotions and not only makes the idea digestible to the young, but palatable to adults in a way that is never condescending, and always relatable. It does this during an era in which larger studio films seem to be petrified to even attempt at what Inside Out is trying to do. The film’s main message, which debates and succeeds in explaining why emotion is needed, is not only thoughtful, but suddenly necessary when we consider how our cinematic culture is troublingly stumbling around the human condition. Negative reactions towards Inside Out have stated that the film is depressing, as if only half of the film's message has been taken on board.

Amusingly to complain that the film isn’t as overly optimistic as some would like, only details how this era of cinematic universes, alternate timelines and forced happy endings with non-subtle hints of continuation, have effected audiences. That Inside Out raises the notion of sadness being one of the things we need in order to grow, puts a lot of the current franchises to shame. Mostly as their arrested development and commercial duties. Refrain from the idea of anything negative really happening to the protagonists, even if they have to save the world.

The honesty which lies in Inside Out points the film out as one of the most mature mainstream films of the year. This is not to say that mainstream cinema hasn’t been enjoyable, it certainly has been. However, it’s feeling like fewer have really asked the audience to consider themselves in the same way as Pixar’s does. The films smartness is subtle. Observe the moments when we leap into the minds of other characters and see who leads the charge in each. Joy is the head honcho in Riley’s head. We move across to her father’s head and we see that it’s Anger that rules the roost. A factor the quietly coincides with the outer framing of the film (the house move has not been smooth). Notice the sophistication that takes place when the emotions fight over controls and curation of “core memories” and how the outcome of Joy and Sadness’ adventure alters them.

The amount of the thought that’s placed into sight gags is equally as striking. A blink and you miss it joke about thoughts and opinions jumbled becoming jumbled, isn’t just a quick witted moment of jest, but a frank commentary on our times, when we notice how the media now works. The idea of an irritating earworm is amusing on the surface, yet it reaches a deeper level when you notice that one particular emotion ALWAYS triggers the process. That’s no accident. Neither is the observing the shift of dynamics when Joy and Sadness are no longer in control. It’s a film tackling how different emotions alter perception, all under the guise of family fun.

This is what Pixar does best. Within such a hefty concept they never forget to construct relationships and emotions in a way that other filmmakers seem uninterested in pursuing. Whether the power of commerce may refrain others from really letting loose, I do not know. But it says a lot that it’s a Disney Pixar movie I’ll need to go to in order to watch a film happily reference Avant grade art in a realm of abstract thought.

The animation isn’t the most rousing of Pixar’s work, while Amy Poehler’s spunky and sprightly performance will only truly feel like inspired casting for those who know nothing of her past works, yet Inside Out still provides deeply absorbing, high quality entertainment from start to finish. Whether your favourite moment involves the wonderfully cast Phyllis Smith as the films MVP; Sadness, Anger’s (Lewis Black) hilarious outbursts or even saying goodbye to the youthful parts of your imagination, Pixar once again flex their muscles and distil the intricate and poignant into delightful mainstream enjoyment. That they do so with seemingly such ease makes you wonder just what the guys making so-called adult films are doing.

*Note: I wonder if the film at any point reminded anybody of the French/Japanesse Edutainment Cartoon; Once Upon a Time...Life? It was the first thing the sprang to mind when watching the film.

Review: Lost Soul: The Doomed Journey of Richard Stanley’s Island of Dr. Moreau

Year: 2014

Director: David Gregory

Starring: Richard Stanley, Fairuza Balk, Hugh Dickson, Oli Dickson, Robert Shaye, Marco Hofschneider

Comparisons to Lost Soul, which details the making of The Island of Dr. Moreau, could easily be made to like football club Fulham FC’s recent history. What looks to be a decent project on paper slides descends too rapidly into relative obscurity after being abused with a multitude of poor decisions. At one point, both film and football team as a maniacal but proven manager take over, yet his old school ways do little to stop what is now a situation in free fall. Suddenly oblivion.

From a technical standpoint, Lost Soul says very little. It’s a standard T.V budget documentary with the usual set up of talking heads and archival footage. Nothing is too out of the ordinary. But the story. Oh, how the narrative unravels. The most fascinating things about documentaries about films that fall apart, is how they fall apart. Despite being made, The Island of Dr Moreau is almost like a group of people looking to purposely build a dilapidated household to live in. The worse thing is, we see the cracks appearing from the off.

The film sells Richard Stanley (Hardware, Dust Devil) as a once up and coming genre director, whose brush with Hollywood left him burnt. The film sets up a lot of time in displaying Stanley’s intelligence and eccentricities. It’s quick to make Stanley out as an unfortunate, yet likable soul who is nastily shoved out of his own mind bending creation. Despite this, the films set up belies not only the frustrations and anxieties of a studio, but also the difficult balance between art and commerce.

For sure New Line President Robert Shaye is a tad wrong to lump assumptions of Stanley’s love for sugary coffee as a warning sign for trouble ahead (has he not considered Hollywood’s illegal drug problems?). But it’s clear for all to see that Stanley’s outrageously creative ambitions would pose a difficult issue, once New Line actually saw an avenue for decent business. Seriously,  the concept art features a human-dog hybrid licking afterbirth from a genetically mutated human/animal baby. We’ve only now just got around to the idea of a Human Centipede and that’s clearly pretty niche.

Such documentaries become illuminating in the same way as soaps and reality TV. It’s easy to become engrossed in the gossip. And why not. Val Kilmar (at the peak of his stardom) is likened to a preppy high school bully. Fairuza Balk sets upon cross country trip away from production once she finds out about how Stanley is being treated. The reasoning for the trip being cross country? Her lack of geographical knowledge of Australia. We have Brando taking the art of trolling a production to Jupitar sized proportions. The piece de resistance? Well, just because Stanley was fired from production, doesn’t mean he left.

In watching Lost Soul, you realise just how plain some of our filmmakers come across now. The PR stranglehold over productions makes films like this a certain succulence. It’s clear to see that mavericks like Stanley (interest in witchcraft aside) are often considered best avoided by Hollywood. A quick look at the Marvel production line right now, highlights just how much a studio wants their creatives to toe the line (I write this on Ant-man’s opening weekend).

But when an eccentric slips through the ropes, and an inmate gets a chance to take over the asylum, it’s easy to see how they can become lost in a world where power plays and bottom lines become everything and your enemies may be the guys smiling for the camera. Stanley shows throughout that his creativity is in abundance, but his personality is one that simply doesn’t meld with the playboys of LA. Unlike Terry Gilliam, Stanley doesn’t show himself to be a director who wishes to defeat extreme weather.   

What Stanley does give us, though, is an unbelievably rich texture to a deeply unfortunate hot mess.  Unlike Troy Duffy’s aggressive bluster in Overnight (2003), Richard Stanley’s offbeat wit and creative prowess only makes one wish that he was able to stay in the game longer to see what he could have come up with. Sweet tooth or no.  

Review: Creep

Year: 2014 (UK Release: 2015)

Director: Patrick Brice

Screenplay: Patrick Brice, Mark Duplass

Starring: Patrick Brice, Mark Duplass

Synopsis is here:

The most terrifying thing about Creep is not only how it melds horror tropes into elements that feel way too plausible for their own good. It's the revealing way that it uses masculinity and empathy to its own twisted ends. The film doesn't just find a simple way around its found footage aesthetic, but also crafts a chilling narrative around some of the worse male traits. It's difficult to say more without effectively dismantling the film. It is safe to say that Creep manages to bottle some of those queasy, deceptively aggressive traits that often infiltrate young men.

The first young man; cash strapped, videographer, Arron (Brice), decides to take a Craiglist ad and work for Joesef (Duplass), who wishes to be filmed in a series of videos for his unborn son as his dying wish a la My Life (1993). Simple enough. But Joesef comes off as a little off key and not just in the unconventional spelling of his name. Odd events start off slowly, but as the day goes on, the unease builds. What’s strange is that as odd as Josepf gets, Arron keeps filming. Yes, he’s getting paid handsomely, but there seems to be more to it than that. Is there a connection? If so, do either wish to delve further into the dark?

The impulsive and imbalanced feelings of companionship is something that Mark Duplass has been familiar with since his early mumblecore days (The Puffy Chair, Baghead). Yet here he mixes in that same sense of unease that came with Black Rock (which he co-wrote). A tension which hides behind the somewhat familiar.

Strangely, here with Creep, Duplass feels similar to the likes of Adam Sandler in Punch Drunk Love. Whereas Sandler subverts his man child aspects, Duplass toys with his outward charming persona to somewhat sinister effect. From the particular wording that his character uses, to the dead eyed gaze that he pulls off a tad too easily. This is all wrapped in his hey buddy charm. Much like someone chipped away at the last bits of decent at his Everyman role from his character in sitcom The League. Despite that character being a douchebag to his friends, at least you'd feel comfortable with him taking a whiskey. Brice gives us the weaker performance, but his simple direction of the narrative combined with Duplass’ oddness helps distract from the film's largest flaw.

The final moments are as compelling as they are terrifying. As the film comments on something that feels closer to home as the earth grows smaller and angrier. It questions our empathy. It's an ending that feels OTT and unbelievable at first, but grows the more it is considered. A character asks a question that an audience member is likely to ask. But the answer to the question and the power of Creep lies much in same reason why all the coverage needs to be shot. We believe we're going to get something good out of this. 

Review: Ted 2

Year: 2015

Director: Seth MacFarlane

Screenplay: Seth MacFarlane, Alec Sulkin, Wellesley Wild

Starring:  Mark Wahlberg, Seth MacFarlane, Amanda Seyfried, Giovanni Ribisi, John Slattery, Jessica Barth, Morgan Freeman

Synopsis is here

This potent independent article helped gather some thoughts on Ted 2, the intermittently funny, yet still unnecessary sequel to Seth MacFarlane 2012 hit. Seth wants to have his cake and eat it. Ted plays fast and loose with jokes about black cocks and white niggas and yet the film gives pays little lip service to black people. Yet ted 2 is a film which is about civil rights…to a point. Really Seth wants to be able to make crummy race jokes while still giving the wink that he's a card carrying liberal. Ted the CGI bear wishes to be considered a human and have his surname called Clubberlang. Here, however, you could say he comes off more as an Archie Bungle.

These days any flaw or dislike in a un-P.C piece of media, instantly considers the viewer as over sensitive. You can't have class if you don't like crass. But despite a favourable view of the previous entry and an admirer of MacFarlane’s animated work, my disinterest in Ted 2 is more down to the fact that that Ted 2’s humour feels thinly spread this time round. Gags feel well-worn and lacking in any type of growth. Much like The Hangover franchise. Ted 2 never feels like the shot in the arm that the first entry gave. It feels like a stale re-tread.

It's no surprise that American Dad has grown from strength to strength out of all Seth’s creations. As it favours less of the oblique randomness that litters Family Guy and Ted. In both Ted 2 and his previous film A Million Ways to Die in the West (2014), Seth has pushed even further towards random non sequiturs with none of the Monty Python flair.

But even Family Guy gains more favour due to its ability to lean on its animation. It shouldn’t be said, but the series can have more fun because it’s a cartoon. It’s become more apparent that MacFarlane has a style that he wishes to stick with. This was fine when Ted was viewed as a one shot. A random series of connected vignettes tied by character and crassness. However, this second time round delivers Ted has less of a rouge and more of an asshole. The jokes that miss are, once again, even more targeted to those with a working knowledge of current American pop culture that’s off the beaten track. This mostly leaves Ted making dick jokes, but lacking with the fairy tale element which caused much of the amusement from before. In addition to this, Wahlberg has less to do. Seyfried is coasting in a drab role and while MacFarlane still doesn’t get enough praise for his vocal ability, Ted is far less lovable this time round. Once the first film became a hit, you can see what little earnestness there was, leave Ted and anything connected to it due to money.

It’s a damn shame that Ted opens with hilariously silly MGM musical-lite titles. It reminds you of how much of a song and dance man MacFarlane can be alone with his love for older Hollywood. There’s clearly some comedic gems to mine there. Yet once the film gets to comic con and makes Star Wars gags (another MacFarlane trait), it’s clear that geeky callback culture currently rules all, and MacFarlane only goes balls out with the easy dick, race and gender jokes, but isn’t interested in skewing things any further. Ted 2 finishes up like the results of what you’d get from an easy bake oven. You’re able to digest it, but you’ll probably need something to wash it down with before forgetting you even had it. A sticky mess. 

Review: Terminator Genisys

Year: 2015
Director: Alan Taylor
Screenplay: Laeta Kalogridis, Patrick Lussier
Starring: Jason Clarke, Emilia Clarke, Jai Courtney, J. K. Simmons, Dayo Okeniyi, Matt Smith, Courtney B. Vance, and Lee Byung-hun.

Synopsis is…well.

Trey Parker and Matt Stone’s amusing dig at Family Guy (Cartoon Wars) and how they create their non sequitur jokes and narratives, is still one of the crowning achievements of the 20 season strong show. Stone and Parker took on their “rivals” with the idea that the weak writing in Family Guy stems from the idea that the staff are actually manatees who lob random “idea balls” of pop culture references, verbs, and nouns into a giant machine. The way Cartman vents his displeasure at Family Guy’s still feels on point nine years on:

“I am NOTHING like Family Guy! When I make jokes, they are inherent to a story! Deep, situational and emotional jokes based on what is relevant and has a POINT! Not just one interchangeable joke after another!”

Idea Balls have now gone from a satirical jibe to rite of passage when it comes to the summer blockbuster. Upon watching Terminator Genisys, with its incoherent muddle of alternative timelines, killer apps and half considered concepts, it’s hard not to be reminded of the idea balls. Director Alan Taylor doesn’t seem to help matters. Worryingly quoted in an interview with The Daily Beast:  

“My favourite part is using humor to sort of skate over it,” Taylor said, optimistically. “It’s a way of saying, ‘You may not get this, but who cares? Keep going!’ There’s a scene where J.K. Simmons [who plays a detective] comes in and says, ‘What you’re doing seems really complicated.’ And [Sarah Connor] says, ‘We’re here to save the world!’ And he says, ‘I can work with that.’ Basically, that’s what we’re telling the audience: Go with it, we’re saving the world.”

Welcome to the culture of the callback. You know the brand? Good. It’s the only thing that’s cared about. Like Jurassic World, Terminator: Genisys urges you to dismiss logical coherence because you know the name of the franchise. Genisys does well to replicate sequences that were found in James Cameron’s seminal piece of low-fi sci-fi. It enjoys nodding and winking to the mythology, but does so at the expense of decent logic.

It’s easy to dismiss such a criticism. Fans of Jurassic World have exclaimed that you shouldn’t look for sense in a film about modern day dinosaurs. I’m sure many will see me judging a film about time traveling metal assassins a little too harshly. However, it’s now starting to bother me about the amount of films that people are telling me to ignore the storyline and just consume. Isn’t that why we go to the movies, to see good looking escapism well told? Instead of asking why I’m looking for more, may I question why we are settling for less? I find this especially frustrating when considering original sources for these blockbuster franchises. Which were enjoyable for how well they constructed their escapism.

Genisys trudges from timeline to timeline with little to no rhyme or reason, bringing with it another charmless performance from Jai Courtney and a dubiously perky display from Game of Thrones star Emilia Clarke. Together they hold a certain chemistry, but it’s one that would play better in a Nicholas Sparks film. Jason Clarke, Matt Smith and J.K Simmons do what they can with piecemeal roles, while Lee Byung-hun gets royally shafted by being the right person in the wrong film. His role as a villainous T-1000 is better than the film deserves. Genisys decides the best thing to do with him making sure that his role doesn’t make sense, before burying him as quickly as possible. It’s frustrating to see an actor shoved into a role with no other reason other than to pad out the films running time.

What about Arnie? As opposed to my issues with The Last Stand (2013) in which Schwarzengger came off as stiff and awkward, he once again shows that he was born to play the T-800. Although this time it seems clear that Arnie is having a hard time trying his hardest not corpse in his scenes. Annoyingly, Genisys’ lousy screenplay ups the ante by making the character more “human”. So now we have Arnie crack more jokes and parody the role as if the film was directed by a Zucker brother.

Genisys is actually directed by Alan Taylor (Thor: The Dark World). An experienced T.V and film director, Taylor delivers competent action sequences and frames the throwback 1984 sequence meticulously.  But to what avail? Genisys’ horrid screenplay would be a quagmire for any filmmaker to work with. It’s confusing, confounding, and full of risible dialogue. It’s also constantly hedging its bets on explaining itself in future instalments. A trend that I’m finding more and more loathsome as I grow older and realise more and more that my time on this earth is finite.

However, people’s hunger for franchise lip service seems to be limitless. Terminator Genisys has an extremely healthy IMDB rating, which happily laughs in my cynical face. That’s fine. I wish those fans no ill will. I however will sleep easier tonight once the lingering images of Genisys leave me like a ghost completing its unfinished business.  

Review: Entourage: The Movie

Year: 2015
Director: Doug Ellin
Screenplay: Doug Ellin
Starring: Kevin Connolly, Adrian Grenier, Kevin Dillon, Jerry Ferrara, Jeremy Piven

Synopsis is here

“Do you actually think that way about movies?” The voice queried at the end of the line. I was left stumped. A brief exchange from a friend in Wales had my mind in a particular conflict.

“If I had to think like that about movies” He continued; “My head would just hurt.”

My friend was talking about an article I shared about the strange, extravagant death which featured in Jurassic World. He was quite astonished that someone would place such thought into something which in the grander scheme of things, is so trivial. He claimed that he meant the writer of the article, but the tone clearly included me, the sharer, the cohort.

I smiled, but for a brief second, I was mildly stumped. While I often challenge my own thoughts on the films I watch, the sheer simplicity of how the question was put across to me, along with a long conversation with friends over Jurassic World and Entourage, had my eyebrow well and truly raised To quote Heath’s Joker: “Why so serious?”

Am I Dothery, believing in the hologram, while Toto is there to show me there’s not much behind the curtain? Am I over thinking these blockbusters, which are only out to entertain? Should one just sit there and mindlessly soak in whatever images that you’ve just happened to pay for? Such questions, don’t keep me up at night, but they do catch me every so often while I do my day job. Movies are just movies, see? And despite nearly everything we watch, read and listen to holding a certain amount influence over us, we should just quieten down and just take it in. The real important stuff is in what you do.

This brings me, in a roundabout way to Entourage, a movie in which the four lead characters do very little and are heavily rewarded. So while the nameless audience should work hard and pay good money to sit down, shut up and take in whatever the entertainment says it is, Entourage is more happy to state that these guys, do nothing get rewarded more and fuck you, because dudebros.
That’s actually quite harsh of me. I was actually pretty fond of the antics of Vince and his crew. The TV show, despite some of its baser elements, was an entertaining romp about Hollywood. The boys were juvenile, but they were mostly harmless. What these guys lacked in airs and graces, they made up for in knock around charm and comrade. The Hollywood namechecking and film scheming were slick and glossy enough to make fans feel like they were “in” with the boys. The always sunny, totally money, world view held by these Hollywood homeboys was never one I could fully subscribe to. But I would quite happily spend 22 minutes engaging a cringe worthy Johnny Drama meltdown or a ball busting Ari Gold tirade. Guilty pleasure? No, just an effectively fluffy time waster.  

In the four years that Entourage came off the air, a lot has changed. TV has now entered a new so-called golden age and the audiences’ demands have been raised to match the quality. The (pop culture) world has now become even more aware of and engaged in gender politics. Argument and debate have spread across sword and sandals sex in Game of Thrones through to Gamergate. Whether you were a feminist before the Twitter landscape shifted or a newly pledged member of the mens rights club. It’s safe to say that the conversation has become louder since 2011.

This makes the Entourage movie feel only a tad less prehistoric than the Jurassic World Dino’s in the screen next to it. A barrage of think-pieces and caustic reviews have had the cast fighting back with exclamations of: “It’s not Citizen Kane!” This is true, but in my eyes, lines like that only really suggest that the film in question is pretty rubbish.

Despite some of the shrillness of the think-pieces and twitter attacks from the internet abyss aimed at Entourage. They’re not completely incorrect. While not the sleaziest film I’ve seen, Entourage has some moments that do make you question the thought process and reasoning on why such elements had to be in the film. It’s more gratuitous moments are the most noticeable and senseless. A pivotal moment involving two prostitutes happily pleasuring themselves orally while two characters converse would perhaps fare better in an exploitation film than a mainstream summer movie. Same goes for Johnna Drama (Dillon), whose constant juvenile chatter about “banging” was far less distracting, when A: he had actual story arcs to navigate in the series. B: He gained more comeuppance.

The fact is Entourage is pretty much what one would have expected from the TV show. Which isn’t great considering that this is a movie. We’re now in a world in which the likes of Game of Thrones can be happily screened on cinema screens. With good reason. Entourage, much like the How I Met Your Mother finale, tries too hard to shove a season’s worth of plot into an extended episode of the series. Unfortunately, rather than the scale, the only thing that feels bigger is the obnoxiousness of the characters. Once you realise that the stakes have never been lower with nothing truly at risk the film’s outcome is uninteresting. With no decent story to speak of, the only thing to observe is the indulgent (and fun) cameos and just how the crass these guys actually are.

To make matters worse, the film’s main cast (Piven aside), lack any command on the big screen in comparison to the home monitors they co-opted in the past. The flaccid four’s weak performances (along with the televisual set ups) help demonstrate the differences between films and TV that some of the stronger television shows have been fighting to blur.

As the film’s box office return slowly claws back its budget (marketing budget unknown), it’s pretty clear that Entourage, much like recent TV-movie adaptations, only really attracted its core fans and that the many articles attacking it, will probably get one or two more tickets through the door. To me, the volume of the Kermode rants and articles hint at a slow release week more than anything. Not that many people gave a damn when Entourage finished. The amount of time past and the change of scope have given a forgettable film slightly more prominence. Yet while the film works in short bursts – the odd funny line, an amusing situation or two – Entourage does very little to show that it’s more than it’s worse faculties. Much like The Sex in the City Movies, the film’s focus on the most facile elements, in a far more socially aware environment, has provided a disappointed outcome. That said, the films musical choices, which have always been well picked for the lifestyle that it’s showcasing, still made my head nod.

The friend I mentioned at the beginning of this piece once asked me to pick a film for him as he was taking someone out on a date. I forget what I suggested, but he took my advice. He married the same girl soon after. He’s thanked me for the choice I made and jokingly stated that I helped solidify the relationship. Yes, at times the way I watch films hurts my head. However, the outcome can be stories like how he met his wife. Something I found more enjoyable than Entourage the movie.

DVD Review: The Devil’s Violinist

Year: 2013 (UK DVD release: 2015)

Director: Bernard Rose

Screenplay: Bernard Rose

Starring: David Garrett, Jared Harris

Synopsis is here:

Niccolò Paganini was one of the most celebrated violin virtuosos of his time and considered as one of the pillars of modern violin technique. A man of such stature, has of course been dramatized in cinema before, with his most famous being Klaus Kinski’s Paganini (1989). The ferocious Kinski, who played Paganini, seemed like a perfect fit for a womanising violinist who was allegedly in cahoots with the devil. It must be said however that an update by Bernard Rose (Immortal Beloved), is an attractive prospect.

Rose; whose work has shown interest in self-destructive egos before (Ivans XTC), seems like a good fit for the material on the surface. The addition of German violinist David Garrett as Paganini, ensures handsome looks as well as playing. Much more of a turn on than the bug eyed mania of Kinski.

The problem is that The Devil’s Violinist never strikes the same intensity that someone like Kinski could pull off on even an off day. Quickly glossing over Paganini’s childhood, as well as his mysterious alliance with a Papa Lazarou-like manager named Urbani (Jared Harris), the film quickly settles on the main meat of the story, Paganini’s first concerts in London. Here he takes advantage of far too trusting promoter John Watson (Christian McKay), before setting his sights on Watson’s attractive young daughter Charlotte (Andrea Deck).

With its conservative protests, swooning crowds and indulgent drug taking, Rose takes the approach of comparing Paganini to the likes of a modern rock star. It’s an angle that could bode well for music history teachers looking at fitting parallels of more contemporary artists for students. However, for all the films poetic license (I doubt Paganini had management as sinister as Urbani), it is a little sad that Paganini’s conflicts and demons boil down to uncooked daddy issues. This may have been more effective if David Garrett was a more convincing lead. His long hair and sublime playing show that Garrett looks the part. Yet we never truly get under the skin of Paganini or his relationship with either Urbani or Charlotte.

This doesn’t stop Rose from shooting a rather rich and lavish production on a modest budget. Nor does it prevent enjoyable performances from McKay, Harris or Joely Richardson. All three performers slaver relish over the scenery before chowing down greedily in every scene they crop up in.

Then, of course, there’s the music that features. Garrett revels in showing his talent with some truly wonderful playing, including a small yet gorgeous rendition of God Save the King. One may wish that other aspects of the film were as sweetly portrayed, but there’s still more than enough silver linings to weather the darker clouds. 

Review: Jurassic World

Year: 2015

Director: Colin Trevorrow

Screenplay: Rick Jaffa, Amanda Silver, Derek Connolly, Colin Trevorrow

Starring: Chris Pratt, Bryce Dallas Howard, Vincent D'Onofrio, Ty Simpkins, Nick Robinson, Omar Sy, B. D. Wong, Irrfan Khan

Synopsis is here

"You know, you're right. This truly was the best vacation ever. Now let us never speak of it again." – Marge Simpson - The Simpsons - Itchy and Scratchy Land episode.

It was funny to watch twitter bat their opinions back and forth while Jurassic World took the weekend/summer/year financially. Was the film Good or bad? Brilliant or Dumb? An extravagant thrill ride, or a muddled pile of murky gender politics and decades old nostalgia. I lean towards the negative choice to all of those preferences, and yet most of the entertainment I gained from Jurassic World was in wondering just how dubious it would become. By the time we reach a climax slavered in deus ex Machina plot devices. I felt a decision had been reached. Jurassic World had jumped the Mosasaurus, but audiences seem to be ok to see just how high the film would fly.

Observing the audience I watched it with, as well as the reactions from friends in my social feeds who don’t view everything in the same critical prism, it was clear that many didn’t care that the jokes missed more than they hit. Nor did they care that the film’s gender politics were less progressive than Jurassic Park (22 years old). When the Dino’s stomped and chomped, people felt there was something there. Even I got caught up in the thrill of it all. For a moment.

Jurassic World is stupid. Many have argued that it’s “meant” to be stupid. But I disagree. Implausibility and stupidity are not the same thing, although they can coincide. Jurassic World is implausible because it’s a movie about a dinosaur theme park. Fine. Yet unlike the franchises’ first entry, the piecemeal screenplay and mishandled gives us a lot of idiotic incident. On the surface, it’s “great” because Chris Pratt is handsome, the CGI is pretty and we remember the score. But while one doesn’t go to Jurassic World for debate of Cark Sagan proportions, I do dislike watching a film which takes me out of the world because mindlessness is considered the same as self-importance.

One thing I gleamed from rewatching the original Jurassic Park, is how characters faced trouble through the actions of others. Not only this, but how, said actions never felt dimly written. Dennis Nerdy’s selfishness causes major issues with the park first time round, but it never feels like a half assed script point. Two decades on, the writers can’t even be bothered to invest in decent cause and effect within the universe. In a place so vast and clearly dangerous, young kids can wander around in gyrospheres on their own.  I spent most of the film’s second half, brow furrowed, trying to figure out which imbecile considered the “plan” to take out the main threat to be a sound one. The sketchily drawn characters make hilarious dialogue exchanges the belay the hacking and slashing of the film’s patchwork screenplay.

“Do you still have those matches?” A character asks.

A memorable moment as the matches were never introduced in the first place. This is actually new information masquerading as something we the audience should have previously been told. In the grand scheme of things this is a small moment. However, it is the type of lapse that the film enjoys displaying.

Such weak control of the elements actually becomes amusing after a while. Sub-plots are picked up and dropped so quickly and heavily, that the films already shaky premise begins to quiver even more. Director Colin Trevorrow constantly reaches for Spielberg-like reverence, but seems to lack the understanding of how the man operates. Throwbacks to the previous films ring hollow and lack the detail that Spielberg would place to give the spectacle the layer of texture. Much like Super 8, we’re watching diluted imitation. It almost tastes the same, but it’s missing the ingredients.

Jurassic World does have a truckload of product placement to make in-jokes about, before realising who the real canny operators are, and falling into line like the owners of a franchise piece feel it should. This is something that the film labours with constantly. Much has been stated about the films infamous high heels, worn by a plucky, but hampered Bryce Dallas Howard. But I don’t think people would have been so bothered with this element if Trevorrow didn’t spend so much time emphasising them. It certainly doesn’t help that Trevorrow’s does this while killing another female character in an oddly extravagant and mean spirited way.  Then again, for a film that makes jokes about people wanting bigger thrills, it misses the chance to actually illustrate the vast scale of this theme park at such a critical point of crisis. What the film chooses to focus on and at what point often borders on the absurd.

For a film so dumb, it was still smart enough to take my money, I guess. Chris Pratt continues his meteoric rise to stardom. Managing to be watchable here, even when he’s not even close to second gear. Trevorrow also shows that as a director, he does handle set-piece spectacle better than many would have expected. Although the thrills and spills shown here, made me miss the earnestness of his debut; Safety Not Guaranteed. It’s a good thing that Jack Johnson is cast to help smooth things over somewhat. The cast as a whole, clearly show that they’re having a good time salting the scenery and having a good chew. Although let’s not make the likes of Irrfan Khan have a character that flip flops erratically next time yeah?

Not that such things bother the rest of the audience whose love of creature features/nostalgia (delete as appropriate) had Jurassic World become one of the highest grossing films of not only the year, but of all time. Something that leaves me conflicted. Happy to see more butts on seats at the local multiplex, but pained to see so many flock to something more boneheaded than a Pachycephalosaurus. For me, while it’s nice to see Raptors and T-Rex make another outing, wide eyed nostalgia can only take me so far. The moment Jurassic World finished. Marge’s quote was the first thing that came to my mind. I had to alter it slightly though: "You know, you're right. This film has truly made a lot of box office bank. Now let me never speak of it again."

Review: Spring

Year: 2014 (U.K Release 2015)
Directors: Justin Benson, Aaron Moorhead.
Screenplay: Justin Benson
Starring: Lou Taylor Pucci, Nadia Hilker

Synopsis is here

The most revealing I took away from Spring; the sophomore effort from directors Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead, was its romance. When I say this, I do not mean romanticising. A currently popular horror trend at the moment are doe eyed tributes to the good old days. These entries are sometimes remakes, but often pastiches of past flavours that worked out previously before. As enjoyable as many of these films can be, it’s fascinating to see a horror film take as an acute left turn. If Spring takes anything from horror films from the past, it’s the emotional elements which lie bubbling underneath the surface of the likes of An American Werewolf in London (1981) or Don’t Look Now (1973). Benson and Moorhead do want their characters to feel fear, although the cause may not be the reason an audience may expect.

As with their debut Resolution (2012) Benson and Moorhead we are once again dropped into a world of slackers with their lives in personal freefall. Evan; a young man who has recently lost both parents, decides to take a trip away from America to Europe. This is partly to clear his mind, but also to avoid both the lowlifes and authorities who are looking for him. He finds himself in a remote part of Italy and in a presence of the beautiful Louise. Her hard-to-get behavior, only means Evan is more drawn towards her.  She’s smart, challenging and holds a keen sense of wit. Why is it that she seems to be hiding something from him?

What makes Benson and Moorhead stand out from the horror crowd is their disciplined focus on character. In both Resolution and Spring, the films never neglect who we’re watching and how they feel. It’s a strange turn of events when we consider the genre is now more often or not about how we watch people die. Spring is deeply concerned with Evan and Louise sentiments. Set over a five day period, the film plays out like an extended version of Before Sunrise (1995), concentrating and developing the couple’s courtship into a tender early relationship. So deliberately paced is this nurturing, one may ask where the horror actually is.

The dread does seep through. Like contamination. Spring is punctuated by short moments of beastly goings on. All of which build to a fascinating concept of genetic anxiety. But what Spring (and its creators) excel at, is the fear of nothingness. The youthful slackers they track stare into the abyss, only to have it stare back at them.  Throughout the story, the abject imagery of rotting corpses follows Evan. The film’s opening is of him witnessing his mother wasting away to cancer. Almost a call back to Chris’ junkie self-destruction, which is the catalyst of Resolution. In a modern world in which our mainstream young (super) heroes have no real sense of death, Spring carefully deconstructs the fear of the finite for those not destined for greatness. As the film progresses we gain a clear sense of what Evan has lost and what Louise (through a wonderfully controlled physical performance by Nadia Hilker) may lose.

This may feel problematic for some who are more in tune to the cattle prodded jolts of The Conjuring (2013). Even in its aesthetic; Spring’s gorgeously hazy, sun kissed cinematography betrays it’s horror underpinnings. I’m certainly sure the film's pacing of the horror will be irksome to some. Yet Spring’s investment in its characters, the sweetness of its central relationship and intelligent modern focus on universal fears that we of a younger age should hold, makes Spring an engaging and tender romantic horror film who those who are looking for something a little different.

Review: Mad Max: Fury Road

Director: George Miller
Screenplay: George Miller, Brendan McCarthy, Nico Lathouris
Starring: Tom Hardy, Charlize Theron, Nicholas Hoult, Hugh Keays-Byrne, Rosie Huntington Whiteley, Riley Keough, Zoë Kravitz, Abbey Lee, Courtney Eaton

Synopsis is here

I refrained from writing anything about Mad Max: Fury Road for a few days after watching as I wanted to get a decent grasp of what I saw. My reaction afterwards was one of confounding awe. An odd term, yet the best I feel I can come up with. I was dumbfounded. How did George Miller manage to slip a $150 Million Ozpolitation chase movie past corporate studio heads? I guess the Oscar and massive box office for Happy Feet (2006) helped. Though that only seemed posed more queries. That said. It helps display the type of maverick Miller is. Fury Road feels like an exclamation mark on a varied and dynamic sentence.

At age 70, Miller hasn’t appeared to have lost any of his ability to draw kinetic energy. Nor has it taken away any of his attentiveness. In an interview with Vanity Fair; Miller is quoted about his wife Margaret Sixel editing the movie, “You have to edit this movie, because it won’t look like every other action movie.” It’s wonderful to see the value and foresight within that action. There’s been much talk of the Mad Max’s feminist leanings. Including Men’s Rights websites losing their collective shit over the positioning of females within the movie. The beauty of Miller’s directional choices, both in the narrative and crew is that it’s once again highlighted the issues that restrains creativity and showed up an audience who still responds strongly to patriarchal hegemony. People who’d rather see creative stagnancy by an upright, uptight status quo.

George Miller has never been one to go through the paces and follow the regular state of affairs. It’s hard not to laugh at activists considering Fury Road as “feminist propaganda” when they should know that Miller directed The Witches of Eastwick (1987), not only a favourite film of mine, but the type of movie which displays that the balls have always been in that court. One of interesting women and curious narratives. Then again, when such angry men mistook an Australian series as a piece of Americana, you can gage the debate level.

In addition to this. Fury Road is a sequelboot that isn’t even on the same thread as the films that came before it. Each visit to the wasteland has always had a differing slant. The original Mad Max was a grubby revenge thriller. The second film an oil fuelled Rio Bravo. The third? A frustrating near Amblin-style adventure. Fury Road comes across like a 70’s B-movie chase movie remixed for modern audiences. Unlike the previous movies, Fury Road cares very little about breathing space. The film drives and spurs on relentlessly, with each new sequence delivering an inventive obstacle for its anti-heroes to navigate.

This does cause issues with some of the development of the character and narrative. Despite being quite long for an action movie, the film doesn’t explore its characters with the depth that it perhaps could. Max Max 2 (1981) still shows itself to be the most complete entry, while Fury Road is far more interested in its vaulting goons and suicidal foot soldiers to provide any real clarity to the film’s background events. Yet what I love about Fury Road is how it sweats, crunches and bleeds. It might not feel like it’s telling the whole story, but the film still shows that its scripted and constructed to display character through action and visuals over bland dialogue. Hardy once again is less a man of words and more a creature of physical input. Max is one of his more tactile performances. Charlize Theron not only gains the ire of so called male activists, but reminds us of just how varied she’s willing to be as an actress. Her role of the wildly named Imperator Furiosa brings out a fiercely terse performance. The type of display we can often forget Theron holds in her locker.

Both lead performances as well as the kinetic cinematography and editing illustrate that the world of Mad Max is one of physical expression over anything else. It’s grand outlandish set pieces detail the fall of man little by little. What makes Miller’s film so astonishing at times is not only just how beautifully balletic the film’s action is, but just how textured Fury Road can be. The sparks of twisted metal is glorious to watch. However, Fury Road shows us a crumbling decent into madness in which idols are false, slavery is rife and your body is a commodity. Post-apocalyptic it may be, but a quick yank of the thread of the fantastic and we’re suddenly a little closer to home.

I consider the men’s activist sites again. What they supposedly stand for. The belief that no one can bark orders at Mad Max. If they were to watch the film, I wonder what their answer would be to the question sprawled on the walls of The Wasteland: Who killed the world? It’s interesting to see people wishing to boycott a hellish future that in the world of fiction they would not only help to create so quickly but already seem to be a part of. That, to me, is the method in Millers madness.