Blu-Ray Review: Journeyman

Disc Release Date: 30/07/2018

Director: Paddy Considine

Screenplay: Paddy Considine

Starring: Paddy Considine, Jodie Whittaker

Watching Journeyman at times reminded what a joy I find in watching British features, and how disappointed I am with production companies and distributors with their marketing and releasing of British films on their own soil. 16 years ago, I remember sitting in my (then) only local cinema being able to catch at least one screening of Shane Meadows, Once Upon a Time in the Midlands (2002). In the present day, in the same town, now equipped with two cinemas, it’s doubtful that a film like Journeyman would even get a sniff. The variables are many, yet it’s troubling to see that a film like this, despite its flaws, can seemingly disappear even easier in an age where so much social media mutterings relate to which begone property will be sequeled or rebooted. Journeyman is not for all tastes, but it’s existence gently reminds me of when that seemed to matter less, and a net would be cast further to see who would get caught.

The reference to Shane Meadows in the previous paragraph seems necessary when mentioning Paddy Considine as it was the casting choice of the director which brought Considine to prominence with head-turning displays in films such as A Room for Romeo Brass (1999) and Dead Man’s Shoes. (2004). It was around the time of Dead Man’s Shoes that the outlet placed consideration into the idea that the duo could be an English Scorsese and De Niro.  The films they worked on together often dealt with themes not too dissimilar from Scorsese, often centering around troubled males wracked with mental ambiguity constantly verging on the psychotic. Meadows already dabbled in pugilism with Twenty-Four Seven (1997), but it does feel somewhat surprising that the two hadn’t looked to create their own Raging Bull (1980).

Considine’s Journeyman, much like his feature debut Tyrannosaur (2011), carries Meadows DNA within it in many areas, not only with the similar direction of montages driven by melodic acoustic guitar artists. Journeyman not only utilises the sport of boxing to tell its story but again deals with mental health as well as questioning ideas of masculinity. Like Raging Bull, the boxing ring is a place where a toll is taken. Unlike the histrionics that fill many popular American fight features, the film holds a far more sobering tone.

Starting with Considine’s character Matty Burton looking to defend his recently won title against a cocky young fighter (Anthony Welsh). The boxing quickly moves to the background as Burton is found unconscious in his family home by his wife; Emma (Jodie Whittaker) after the title defence. What occurs afterward is a “fight” for Matty to find himself again as the delayed trauma obtained through the fight has resulted in memory loss and a profound alteration to his personality. The most challenging aspects of the film lie with how the dynamic changes between the previously warm, likable Matty and his family.

Journeyman’s effectiveness lies in its interest in what happens after the fight as opposed to a more typical build towards a final fight for glory, with the films most painful sequences being struggles between Matty and Emma. The most successful aspects of the film lie in the subtle manner Considine makes even the most mundane exercise a minefield of precarious hazard. Making a cup of tea. Dealing with a crying child. Many of the sequences feel reminiscent of dealing with someone with dementia. Whittaker excels here, and we can see all the patience of the character in her eyes and vocal cadence. Considine provides a great foil. Matty is told at the beginning of the film that the fight - in which his abilities are questioned from the off – will be a life changer and Considine’s performance pulls off the overwhelming effect of Matty’s head injury without leaning into I Am Sam (2001) territory. This is bread and butter to Considine of course with the punctuated outbursts of emotion and violence, having that same unpredictable feeling that was felt in his early work with Meadows. Despite this, it is the new Doctor Who who brings the deeper resonance, simply by not having the more “showy” verbal tics.

The film is neatly captured by regular Ben Wheatley cinematographer Laurie Rose. The crisp visuals once again become yet another showcase for Rose, with a wonderful mirrored shot of Matty reflected within a picture of himself in his glory days being a highlight. The muted, chilly tones shown here are also a refreshing change from the larger trend of warm yet strangely flat palettes that have inflated many films and shows as of late.

With all that Journeyman has going for it, there is frustration with the film’s relative neatness in its narrative. Considine poses a compelling question about what happens to Sportsmen who must hang up their gear by force. The film doesn’t shy away from having its lead character – whose job is led by intense and controlled aggression – be exposed by moments of vulnerability and uninhibited emotion. However, the film’s latter stages begin to knit things up in a way that feels more akin to the sports features of America, than finding its own path. It’s also unfortunate does this with what appears to be a sprinkling of unintended vanity. This perhaps won’t be a negative to sports fans who are happy with Journeyman’s “one man’s struggle” narrative. However, for those who may be looking for something that lingers in the mind a bit longer, may do well with heading back to Considine’s first feature. Either way, Journeyman is a film that highlights Paddy Considine’s considerable talents both in front of and behind the camera and reminds us of what often gets lost amongst the fight for filmgoers attentions. 

Review: Creed

Review: Creed

Year: 2015 (2016 UK Theatrical Release)

Director: Ryan Coogler

Screenplay: Ryan Coogler, Aaron Covington

Starring: Michael B. Jordan, Sylvester Stallone. Tessa Thompson, Phylicia Rashād, Tony Bellew,  Graham McTavish.

Synopsis is here:

The bad news is that films like Creed, which has racked up a more than decent Box Office gross since opening on the 40th anniversary the original Rocky, again highlights that the cry for originality is only voiced by the minority. 2015’s top grossing hits have shown that despite the bleating, we’re pretty much through the looking glass. The good news however is that if such spin offs/sequels/reboots, etc., can be executed in the same manner of confidence that is exuded by Ryan Coogler in Creed, then the minority shouldn’t complain too much. Creed is a Rocky film through and through. Board because it has to be, sensitive when it needs to be, and bold because it’s expected. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree here, and despite there being the odd bruise from the drop, the results are still sweet enough.

With Creed, Coogler manages to transport the same feelings of candour and displacement felt in his first feature Fruitvale Station (2013), and tones down the anger and injustice. Here in Creed, similar issues and events are witnessed. Again, we have an angry young black kid who feels engaged by his surroundings and senses what he can be through application. Yet while Fruitvale Station was a dramatic re-enactment of an unjust and tragic event, Creed is infused with the kind of hope and spirit that only a fairy tale like Rocky could provide. Just knowing that the film lies in the same universe lets us know what we’re going to be in for. All the same Coogler is quick and wise to infuse Creed with smart updates. Tessa Thompson’s Bianca needs little coaxing out of a timid shell a la Adrian. The film’s first two fight sequence, set within a detention centre, dining halls and the back alleys of Tijuana, only highlights where the new fight for representation is occurring.

A potent blend of old and new, Creed is a fitting way to regenerate the franchise. As the renowned former heavyweight, Sylvester Stallone not only reminds us of how competent an actor is really can be (see also Cop Land, Rocky Balboa), with his sensitive seventh display of the down but never out Balboa. Jordan’s Creed is a perfect foil for the old hand. Jordan plays Creed with a brooding swagger and a magnetic presence. Watching the two bounce off one another and develop a credence for each other is genuinely entertaining to watch. The film is rounded off with solid support from the aforementioned Tessa Thompson as well as a welcoming appearance from Phylicia Rashād. Although her role sometimes feels a tad light.

What also feels a little featherweight, is the person who becomes the film's main antagonist; Pretty" Ricky Conlan played Anthony "Tony" Bellew. What Bellew has in physicality (he is a professional champion boxer) he lacks in the charisma. If there’s one thing that Creed really needs, it’s an Apollo.

Coolger does allow the spirit of the All American Champion hang over the film like a dense cloud. He frames the young Adonis shadow boxing against a projection of his father fighting Rocky. The first back and forth between Adonis and Rocky is tinged with the late boxer’s shadow. Even Adonis’ reasoning behind stepping into the ring is at complete odds with Apollo’s, yet it melds perfectly with why audiences loved Rocky. Even with heritage behind him, the fight for being personal identity stepping out of the crowd is just as strong with Adonis as with Balboa. Coolger exploits this element whenever he can, ensuring that once again a so called “urban” feature can feel universal.

When Creed updates, however, it really updates. The film's fights still have the “silly” knock around feel to them, but are made far more dynamic with Maryse Alberti’s wonderful one take photography. The fights are not realistic in the truest sense, but are brutally immersive in their own right. Coolger also shows his age (29) as well as his audience’s with visuals that seem to mimic that of EA’s Fight Night Series. If correct, Coolger shows that he’s not only smart with how he wishes to show black representation (highlighting Creed’s former work place is notable), but also showing new influences effectively. Too often films are criticised for feel too much like a video game. Coogler shows out to replicate such imagery, yet stay involved with the work.

It’s unfortunate that Creed stutters slightly as it hurtles towards its climax, the ease of how it’s conflicts are resolved, remind us just how simplistic the Rocky universe is. The film is clearly interested in continuing the franchise and sometimes gets a tad too carried away with such things. This doesn’t take away from the fact that when Creed hits right, it hits hard. The film holds blockbuster broadness, yet that doesn’t stop it from being a solid sports drama of its own accord. A durable spin off. With the sequel pencilled in for the near future, I’m happy to place originality to the side for this one.

Review: The Fighter

Year: 2010 (2011 U.K release)
Director: David O Russell
Screenplay: Scott Silver, Paul Tamasy, Eric Johnson
Starring: Mark Wahlberg, Christian Bale, Mellisa Leo, Amy Adams

Synopsis is here

I'll be starting with some race stuff first. So if this sounds too Chuck D for your tastes, you may wish to  avoid the first part of this or so.

After the screening, I found myself wondering: In a sport dominated by (notable) Black champions; I found myself watching another Caucasian boxing movie. This isn't a really a gripe about The Fighter a such, merely an observation. Tyson had that T.V movie and an interesting (and quite conflicting) documentary, Cassius Clay has had a shedload of coverage (for obvious reasons) and I'm sure there may be few other lesser considered features. However, considering the drama that could be brought from many of these athletes (many more known than Micky Ward), I'm fascinated that we haven't seen more black boxing movies. Especially ones that could easily follow a similar rise and fall arc that The Fighter.

I was entertained (but not surprised) that I got home after the film to read Joe Queenan's interesting follow-up article to his Rocky Balboa piece mirrored and articulated my own musings. I was even more entertained by another article from The Montreal Gazette which noticed in depth that this years Oscars is pretty much an all white affair. It also highlighted the lack of agents and executives working top level within the media. Forgive me for the incoming cliche but considering "how far we've come", it's still quite telling that despite this alleged politically correctness gone mad nonsense , it's still easier for Micky Ward and Dickie Eklund to get a movie while Sugar Ray Leonard obtains a cameo. I'm surprised that someone like Sugar Ray Robinson considered the greatest by the greatest himself; Muhammad Ali, is presented as only a physical manifestation of the inner demons of Jake La Motta in Martin Scorsese masterful Raging Bull. But like I mentioned to my father, Will Smith can't play them all.   

Inner demons play a large part of David O Russell's solid feature The Fighter. Micky Ward's half brother Dickie (Bale) wears his fight with the aforementioned Sugar Ray Leonard so close to him that it seems to blight more than anything. So much of a heavy weight (pun not intended) is this fight, amongst other things seem to almost help push the pride of Lowell into the mind numbing highs of crack. This internal conflict with Dickie becomes an outer conflict with his brother Micky (Walhberg) whose boxing career is at a critical point. Seen as a stepping stone for better fighters, how can he progress when his trainer is not only an addict but his brother. Things become more complicated when we realize that Micky's mother (Melissa Leo) is also his manager. Pushing him into bum fights and isolating outside influence. Blood is of course thicker than water, however it's clearly obvious that here, it's beginning to clot and family ties are now pulled to breaking point.

O Russell's film works best in these scenes, they are tense, surprisingly funny and tug well emotionally. Many who come from a big family may know of that awkward position that certain members love to play. The idea that family is everything means nothing when it's obvious that control means more. The personal punches hit as hard as the body blows and O Russell captures paints the picture more vivid then I'd expected. The two  reasons I think this works are one: the enveloping gaggle of sisters that crowd around that patriarchal and dominant mother (an impressive Leo). They who watch constantly and chime in like Greek choir of sass. The second is of course the googly eyed, mesmerizing  performance by Christian Bale a man whose outside life and method tactics often obscure the fact that he is a damn fine actor. It's a showy display that feature knowing Oscar baiting moments but alot of that is due to the material more than anything else. Bale nails his scenes and I wouldn't be surprised if the bald gold man goes to him.


Bale and Leo are extremely effective in the role, but maybe a little too effective. You see for a film called The Fighter it's a little shocking that the actual fighter himself is so passive. Wahlberg has also been a topsy turvy actors for me and there's no change here. As opposed of imprinting himself on the scene, Wahlberg like in other films I've seen with himself, fades to the background. Like Boogie Nights, when sharper actors enter the screen Wahlberg seems to shadow them more than anything. Amy Adams however, shows that she can do the tough cookie role well enough to keep a viewer at attention.

As a whole the The Fighter is a uniformly directed piece with some nice visuals and neat touches. The decision to give the fights that TV style look as opposed to regular film is an effective touch, while the fight set pieces themselves are punchy (pun again not intended), with blows that hit hard. They are defiantly not Rocky 4 beat downs. But with all this said, the cogs are consistently turning in The Fighter. you can always nearly always tell what it's thinking. Where it's going and how you should feel. Wahlberg's Micky is a tad to bland to really get into as all the charisma is with his brother and I'm not surprised at the fact that the screenwriters also had a hand in films such as 8 Mile (Rocky but rap) and Air Bud (safe family pleasing affair). From the music ques to the moment we see Dickie going cold turkey there's a touch of the "oh ok"Aronofsky as executive producer, this does become an entertaining companion piece to The Wrestler. No fireworks but no pulled punches either.