Monday 26 January 2015

DVD Review: Jimi: All is by my Side

Year: 2013 (U.K Release 2015)
Director: John Ridley
Screenplay: John Ridley
Starring: Andre Benjamin, Hayley Atwell, Imogen Poots


Synopsis is here:


John Ridley's biopic of Jimi Hendrix; Jimi: All is by my Side, is a frustrating experience. Its subject is one of the most influential musicians of the modern age, yet the film doesn't feel wholly invested in him. It's a film in which its main subject believes in giving everything he does a sense of vividness and flamboyance, and yet none of the film approaches the ideal. This is a film about Jimi Hendrix, but only superficially.

Jimi: All is by my Side sets itself in London 1966 before Hendrix travels back to America and the release of his band's seminal debut: Are You Experienced. Played up as an interesting a pivotal point in Hendrix's life, it feels more like the year was picked as the production couldn't obtain any of the music Hendrix wrote. Such a limitation wouldn't be an issue if the film had handled any of its drama with any subtlety. However, Ridley's screenplay is a hodge-podge of lackluster melodrama, bland musical performances and awkwardly shoehorned scenes. What little conflict the film drums up is quickly resolved or forgotten about before the scene ends. While the drama the film does bring up is the type of tried cliché usually seen in more dubious made for T.V biopics.

The most upsetting thing is that All is by my Side has come from the Oscar winning Ridley, whose blistering work on 12 Years a Slave is miles apart from what we have here. The film's screenplay lacks focus, and Ridley does very little to give the narrative a cohesive through line. Moments that should be defining are hastily constructed. Was Eric Clapton really that stunned by Hendrix's playing? If so, why does that moment feel like such a footnote? The same goes for Hendrix's relationship with his father, which is regulated to a limp, one sided telephone call. It feels so tenuous that it could have easily been left on the cutting room floor.

Ridley then tries to force race into the film with little reason other than to try and illustrate his own feelings on it. There seems to be little reason to have Hendrix quibbling with white policemen or holding a dumbed down argument between Jimi and conterversal Black Revolutionary Michael X (Adrian Lester), but both appear with the sole purpose of making sophomoric statements about race. They do little to show how such matters affected Hendrix and his playing, whether or not such aspects ever did alter his views of music at all. 

All by my Side's saving grace (save for a bright performance of Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club) is the performances. While none of the cast has much to work with in terms of depth, the energy they give to their roles is more than substantial. Andre Benjamin certainly looks the part as Hendrix, although the character itself is more of a caricature of what people think the artist was like. Both Atwell and Poots give their flat characters the life they need to make them watchable. It's a shame that Ridley's script doesn't particularly like women, having both characters doing little more than serving the male character. For a film set against the sexual revolution, the depiction of women is quite disappointing.

Jimi: All is by my Side is an awkward and miscalculated piece with has nothing reaching the intensity of the musician's guitar playing. From its visually drab photography to it's on the nose dialogue, the film jumps unremarkably from scene to scene with little flair or verve. It's clear that the cast entered this with the best intentions in mind, but it seems that the life of Jimi Hendrix needed someone who had a clearer vision to lift some of the purple haze.

Review: Whiplash

Year: 2014 (U.K Release 2015)
Director: Damien Chazelle
Screenplay: Damien Chazelle
Starring: Mills Teller, J.K Simmons, Paul Reiser, Melissa Benoist

Synopsis is here:

As cold and bitter as January can be, the month is one of my favorite times of the year. After the first week of sales, a stroll into town is a relatively clam experience. It's the month of my birthday, which makes drinking gin with a large group of gin feel extra special. However, the biggest reason of my love for January, of course boils down to going to the cinema. It's at this time when, the due to the Oscars, the more "prestigious" films find their way into the multiplexes. To me it just means we have an influx of films which are a tad more adult, and with the current cinematic trend feel much like childhood nostalgia running rampant for so much of the year, it brings substantial relief.

A grand amount of alleviation can also be found once we get to the final moments of Whiplash. The film from the start is so tightly wound you can tune it with a fork. Once the film finally cuts to black and delivers the end credits, there was a feeling of exhalation that flowed out of me, as if someone had finally cut a noose from around my neck. We often consider Jazz as unhurried and easy going. Whiplash decides to take the world of Jazz and turn it into a psychological battlefield. An aggressive battle of odds between student and mentor.

Fans of Jazz as a musical genre have argued with where the film is coming from, much like the ballet dancers who complained about how Black Swan didn't highlight their art form in a positive light. Whiplash is not playing in the same wheelhouse as American Sniper, looking at decidedly weighty subjects based on true events. Although loosely inspired by a teacher that writer/director's knew at his time as a Jazz Drummer in high school, the film is more indebted to something like Rocky (1976) rather than realism. The fact is Whiplash never delivers itself as an absolute truth, it only wishes to tell an entertaining story, and does so with aplomb.

Despite having a narrative leaner than supermarket mince, Whiplash is a neatly realised and textured drama. Damien Chazelle details his film with just the right flourishes to give the drama the right edge and to have us invested in its characters. From a foot touching another during a first date to the beads of sweat leaping of the symbols when they're hit. The film brings a rich range of characteristics to envelop us into its world, ranging from bleeding plasters, to battered and bruised hands hitting iced water. Even the contours and veins on Simmons' face. Such small moments make sure that the film, while simple in its plotting, speak volumes.

Miles Teller turns down his more comical tics for a subtly sensitive performance. Giving the type of arrogant straight man performance that goes unnoticed during award season until it's too late. It's a role of heavier lifting than we give it credit for. Playing an instrument convincingly (to a Layman), as well as providing a relatable and naturalistic performance throughout. He also has to be the right combative foil for the viper that awaits him in the other corner. J.K Simmons, as teacher Terrance Fletcher, is a near impenetrable ball of rage. A man sick of mediocre talent being passed off as "good enough", nearly every word that froths from his mouth is a well-oiled put down. Every glance, a look of contempt. Do don't just play in rhythm, you have to play well. You don't just play well, you play beyond. Fully embracing a role that only he was born to play, Simmons' is on fearsome form as Fletcher, a man who strikes nerves by merely grasping at air. This central "relationship" is the jewel of Whiplash as you wait to see who may crack first.

As stated, we're not going to Whiplash for the exact truth, and yet looking at Simmons' intimidating tutor only had me contemplating how many people had a teacher like this. I remember mine looking similar to Simmons and held similar ferocity. There are (or were, if we are to believe parents nowadays) teachers such as Fletcher, who can only gain the results they acquire through fear and thunderous displays of dominance. One of the scariest things Chazelle brings to the table is the idea that as much as we dislike Fletcher's methods or try to disbelieve in them, when his reasons are explained, it's tough not to see it on his side.

That said, when the one of the film's most pivotal piece of information is revealed further along the line and defenses appear to be knocked down slightly. The outcome of the issue feels almost like a shrug. It's hard not to think of the term to make an omelette you have to crack a few eggs, although the eggs we're dealing with a lot more delicate.

Yet, due to Whiplash being a force of nature the film powers through. The sheer drive of these characters is what makes the film so appealing. Despite the preposterous nature the film sometimes delves into, the exhilaration of the film's final 20 minutes brings, in which we see the stakes both mentor and student at their highest, makes the films more extravagant elements all the worthwhile. It's only in the Whiplash's final moments when we the connection between two people in complete sync, do we get the feeling that we can breathe once more. Jazz has never been so thrilling.

Review: American Sniper

Year: 2014 (U.K Release 2015)
Director: Clint Eastwood
Screenplay: Jason Hall
Starring: Bradley Cooper, Sienna Miller

Synopsis is here

One of the opening scenes of American Sniper sees a young Chris Kyle standing up for his brother who is attacked by a bully at school. Afterwards, at the dinner table Kyle’s father informs him that there are three types of people in this world: Sheep, Wolves and Sheepdogs and that he hopes for his sons to make sure they are the right type. The scene primes the viewer for the rest of this biopic, based on Kyle, a divisive character who was labelled the most lethal sniper in U.S history. When Kyle witnesses 9/11 on his T.V later in the film you see he’s reminded of the conversation. He knows which type of person he wishes to be. By the end of the film, so do we.

As a director, Clint Eastwood shoots from the hip. His work ethic is short, sharp and to the point. Something that shows in American Sniper. A simply constructed feature, which is built in a way to try and mirror the audience which views it. Gung-ho conservatives will go nuts for the “calm Zen” Kyle kills Iraqi soldiers with, yet the film is also punctuated with scenes that may have bleeding liberals talk about the inner conflicts of a difficult man. Although many are angrier at how Kyle’s heroism is portrayed. The film as a whole, tries to maintain a certain balance. However, said balance will be tipped, by how people perceive the ongoing conflicts that the west have faced with the Middle East, as well as people’s knowledge of Chris Kyle.

Starting with a first act which feels too much like an Army recruitment video, American Sniper’s aesthetics have been so well known in other more pro-army movies or adverts that they have a hawkish feel to them, but they have a corniness that doesn’t ring true. Kyle witnesses the fall of the twin towers and decides immediately to sign up to the marines to fight in the Iraq war. This is dubious when we consider that it’s the war in Afghanistan, which is the response to the 9/11 attacks. But the moment itself, plays with a sense of naivety that cheapens such a large decision.  Much of the film’s first segment has that feel to it, in the same way that blockbusters often simplify the Armed Forces.

The film’s middle segment, in which we see Kyle as he serves four tours with the Marines, hold the film's strongest moments. Held together by the two solid performances from Cooper and Miller and some fantastic firefight set pieces. The film excels is showing the conflict between Kyle’s wish to serve his country and his home life. We witness Kyle struggles with PTSD as the effects of war take his toll. Much has been said about Kyle himself and his lack of remorse over the people he killed. American Sniper softens such aspects and gives the shooter a lot more benefit of the doubt over the “savages” he dispatches. Cooper's Kyle has moments of realisation of how troubling he finds his situation, but such scenes lack the resonance that Kathryn Bigelow provided in both The Hurt Locker (2008) or Zero Dark Thirty (2012).  We observe the western fatalities in stats, but we see Iraqi’s displayed as little more than two dimensional characters, only ever considered as the “enemy” to be shot. Only once or twice does Kyle’s heroism feels earned in the film. One example is a small but affecting scene in which a young injured solider informs Kyle on how he save his life.

The film’s final codec does little to help extend the problematic feelings of Kyle, his character and his beliefs. Softening a man whose viewpoint should be harder to relate to in real life. The characters final moments are not seen, although they are the most telling. As it reminds us of how fractured war can leave a person. One thing the film suggests, and this is also mentioned in Kyle’s book, is his unwavering belief in his countryman as a soldier. However, due to how uninterested the film is in making the secondary characters become believable support, the film stumbles.

Yet Eastwood’s straight shooting style and his avoidance of politics of any real kind often shows just how palpable he makes Kyle and American Sniper for a layman such as myself. It is an interestingly crafted piece of historical fiction. Much like the successful and violent FPS Soldier of Fortune, the enemies against Kyle have no definition, which makes it easier to relate to Kyle and his macho, black and white world view. It’s even more fascinating to see just how entertaining Eastwood can often make the film. The film features solid action sequences, the direction of the actors is effective and with a running time of over two hours, the film rolls at a good pace. Although the likes of Haneke would have a field day with how the film's violence is portrayed.

Despite my misgivings about the film (particularly its final flag waving moments). This is still the same director whose Million Dollar Baby (2004) openly debated assisted suicide with a keen eye and whose Gran Torino (2008) was strong enough to bring a certain amount of sympathy to a bitter conservative racist. Although documentaries such as The Tillman Story (2010) provides more complex insight into a famous soldier, American Sniper still manages to arouse strong feelings about peoples' dealings with middle east, even if the film willfully avoids some of the murkier elements of its subject. American Sniper is not the perfect portrayal of someone that many consider a hero, but it is an engrossing and somewhat troubling examination of how modern warfare can be depicted on screen.

Tuesday 6 January 2015

DVD Review: Vengeance Road

Year: 2014
Director: Ravi Dhar
Screenplay: John Fallon
Starring: Nick Principe, Robin Sydney, Todd Farmer


Synopsis is here


Vengeance Road (altered from its more confusing U.S title American Muscle) lost a lot of its luster the moment our anti-hero John Falcone bangs his first broad. We're told (on the film's marketing) that Falcone has spent ten years in jail has now has 24 hours to claim his revenge on those who wrong him. The thing is, the film never really bothers with the semantics so if it hadn't been for me double checking the synopsis on the imdb, I wouldn't have had a clue that Mr Falcone had a set time frame. The film seemingly cares little about the details.

As Vengeance Road unfolds, we are handed an unsurprising revenge movie chock full of phoney cgi blood and bullet holes and grisly meat shouldered men who all look like Stone Cold and/or Bill Goldberg. These men are covered in a golden shower of mediocre fucking and fighting that do little to tease anything out of those darker recesses that lay dormant in many a viewer's mind. To the film's credit, it only clocks in a hasty 74 minutes, however, this time could be shorter if you're unable to deal with the screenplays flat dialogue or how these should be wrestlers spew it into the air.

There's very little else I can say about Vengeance Road. Those who are deathly into the neo-Grindhouse may find more in this than myself. However, I found little in this film to recommend. I found Vengeance Road, much like the film itself found it's scantily clad females. Disposable.

Review: Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)

Year: 2014 (2015 U.K Release)
Director: Alejandro González Iñárritu
Screenplay: Alejandro González Iñárritu, Nicolás Giacobone, Alexander Dinelaris, Jr, Armando Bo
Starring: Michael Keaton

Synopsis is here

Wesley Morris in his positive review of Birdman questions whether its director; Alejandro González Iñárritu, has a certain type of artistic insecurity that set him apart from the likes of Alfonso Cuarón and Guillermo del Toro. A creator of grand, depressive moral tales such as 21 Grams, or Babel, I would suggest that such insecurity could come from Iñárritu's view on scope. Cuaron's 2001 road movie Y Tu Mamá También, for example, is a tidy road movie, which uses simple gestures to provide its rich emotional message. Its climatic scene delivers a small revelation which brings everything that was previously seen in perspective. Del Toro is also similar. Even within his richly detailed worlds, the people we meet remain simple and relatable.

Iñárritu often wishes to pummel you with an extremely crushing world view, which rears its head even in the films of his I've enjoyed. Iñárritu's Bitiful brings forth so much depression on such a large scale, it streams past overwhelming is descends into overbearing. The film is so bludgeoning it made me want to find a copy of the Bicycle Thieves (1948) and give a class on how to make misery manageable. Keep it simple, and you won't lose the audience.

Iñárritu's latest feature; Birdman, however, seems to work due to a condensing the whole soul crushing globalism angle. Everything is stripped down to the (still quite large) ego of actor Riggan Thomson (Keaton), who is leaving vapid blockbusters to produce a small play of personal truth. The conflicts stem from this man not understanding that the audience has changed and his search for truth has boiled down to the laboured binary of social media. Meanwhile the theatrical critical eye may not take too kindly to a man who's built his (now forgotten) fame on some bland franchise. The film holds a Synecdoche, New York (2008) vibe to proceedings. Here is a man whose insecurities are spiralling out of control in such way, that he needs them to be shrunk down. It's almost as if Iñárritu may have been absorbing some of the more negative reviews of his films. Amusingly, there is still a sense of a dominant global regime oppressing everything in its path, but it's slimmed down to merely an ex Hollywood player and his industry as opposed to the all-compassing feelings of awful affecting every orifice of life itself.

Birdman is smart about the state of modern Hollywood film making. At one moment, it's suggested that everyone major player now must don a cape now to gain work, the joke being that Keaton's Riggis not only used to be a superhero in this film, but Keaton himself set the modern ball rolling with his casting in Batman (1989), a film which helped shape some of the worst aspects of modern mainstream cinema. Some of which we now see cynically mutated into their present form by Birdman's hand.  Many of Birdman's humorous moment works when fiction bleeds into real life. The "process" of pretentious method actor Mike Shiner (Norton) becomes amusing when you consider his own background. Not only with comic book movies (he was once the Hulk), but also the rumours of Norton being difficult to work with. Seeing Norton having a ball with his rumoured personality, has a certain charm to his scenes. A wonderful exchange between Naomi Watt's Lesley and Andrea Riseborough's Laura is pitch perfect:

Lesley: "I wish I had more self-respect!"

Laura: "You're an actress."

My mind quickly casts back to when a flustered Watt's exited her interview with Simon Mayo early, while on promotional duty for the much maligned Diana (2013). The film also nails a particular type of critic (an icy Lindsey Duncan), whose more interested in their personal axes to grind rather than the name of art. It's amusing because the element of truth hits the right note. A sense of balance that Iñárritu would struggle with when giving us his more sensitive features.

The films flights of fancy are still grand and preposterous. It features a climax which mimics the opening of 8 ½ (1963). Morris also makes comparisons to Fellini and I'm inclined to agree as the film shares similar elements with the aforementioned title, although Birdman seems less interested in how the women of Riggis' life affect his personality. The film still seems a little bit more entertained with snark, with the film happily dropping the sub plots which prominently feature the female cast. The films largest spectacle: making the film appear as if it is all in one long take, is a brave and often beguiling approach. So much so that it can feel a little more distracting than engaging.

It's when the films injects its dark brand of humour, or allows the camera to settle on the smaller moments which allow the film to be at its most truthful. A sub plot featuring Emma Stone's rehabilitated daughter; Sam and the arrogant Mike is one of the most prominent sequences of the film. It's not so much what they say as opposed to how they say it and how intimately they're framed. Such framing becomes important for a film about a transitional period, which seemingly has no apparent transitions in the sense of film language. Annoyingly, Birdman loses its way, by deeming the stories more engaging sub-plots as unimportant, but spending so much time with them you wonder why they're present. Then again, it may be part of the joke.

Despite this, Birdman's lighter approach is refreshing from a filmmaker who mostly enjoys roaming in the gloom. The craft makes the film worth seeing once. The satirical edge and the sight of Michael Keaton reclaiming some of that edgy, manic energy which made him such a stalwart of the 80's/90's makes gives the film a great amount of heft. But above all this, Birdman's more concise viewpoint doesn't bog us down. After the weighty moralising that clouded the likes of Bitiful, the lightness of Birdman allows a viewer to get on board with its message. No matter how large the egos grow. Strangely, I find it no surprise that Piers Morgan has stated that he hated the film. So to be fair, a man with an ego as big as his despising this movie, definitely makes something like Birdman worth watching.

Monday 5 January 2015

Review: Escape From Tomorrow

Year: 2013 (U.K Release 2014)
Director: Randy Moore
Screenplay: Randy Moore
Starring: Roy Abramsohn, Elena Schuber, Katelynn Rodriguez, Annet Mahendru, Danielle Safady, Alison Lees-Taylor

Synopsis is here:

Despite suddenly appearing on Netflix awkwardly, like a Vine comedian whose has been deemed sexist, Escape from Tomorrow caused quite a stir within cinephiles due to its conception. Its director; Randy Moore uses a combination of iPhones for scripting and consumer grade DSLR cameras to create an entire feature film within Disneyland, Florida, without permission from the owners. Moore's film holds more footage of Mickey's merchandise, rides and scenery than a regular Hollywood feature would be able to legitimately pay for. When viewing the film in its entirety, you can see it's not just a gutsy move, but a logistical nightmare. The film was clearly planned in a way to conceal what Moore and his crew was actually doing. Moore himself was so worried that someone might catch what he was up to, he edited the film in South Korea.

While one could deem the shoot problematic, you can't say that all the work wasn't worth it. Moore is able to show the "happiest place on earth" in a negative view, while avoiding Disney's notorious lawyers. Fair play to the man. Yet despite this, I found Escape from Tomorrow's origins to be more interesting than the film itself. Moore's film; a deeply personal film that delves into a newly unemployed man; Jim White, descending into madness during his family's last day at Disney, is often hampered by the guerrilla tactics that allow the film to even be. The film's blurry, out of focus monochrome visuals were considered by the director not only to ease the pressure of editing, but to shape the bizarre imagery itself. This brings mixed results, as the film is a blend of artsy home video and rushed student production. Unlike the early fixtures of the mumblecore movement, the film never feels at ease visually. Yet in a ludicrous catch-22, the film could not be produced in any other way. At one point, a family argument ends with the camera fumbling gracelessly at the infamous castle merely to establish that once again, Disney is the backdrop.

Escape from Tomorrow also suffers from a flaky narrative which nods towards the surreal but lacks true cohesion. We witness Disney Princesses shown to be high class hookers to Asian businessmen, how does this connect with hypnotising evil queens, cat flu outbreaks and a regressive sci-fi experiment? The connective tissue is irritatingly loose. There's clearly a way of making all this ambition gel, but possibly not by having the protagonist father ogling underage teens. Making this one of the driving factors of the plot does little to drive compassion. Then again, the White family is difficult to draw any empathy from in the first place. 

I found myself comparing EFT to Clare Denis' Bastards (2013), a film which starts out as equally as oblique as this one, albeit not as surreal. Bastards also follows an unsympathetic family, and yet the film's tone, the performances and mosaic editing had me absorbed in its puzzle. Escape from Tomorrow struggles under the weight of what it is, and so never truly comes together emotionally or conceptually.

Escape from Tomorrow never really gains a sense of self, although it does well to push the "sinster Disney" angle. This only ever feels like part of the puzzle. Moore; whose childhood clearly has ties to both Disney and his own father (their relationship deteriorated as Moore grew), clearly wishes to excavate some demons with his piece. Some elements work conceptually while the underlying themes could speak volumes if Moore had more time to work on the film's flaws. At a time in which critic A.O Scott laments at mainstream America's arrested development, Escape from Tomorrow's setting and ideas set a troubling reminder of how childhood fantasy, adult mortality and capitalist ideals can converge and warp the sense of family intimacy. Watching the film after the Sony Hack also help illustrate how one can take a pot shot at corporations by using creative methods or destructive ones. One does hope that more can distil some of his ambition and implement his talents into something that won't have him looking over his shoulder constantly.


Review: The Guest

Year: 2014
Director: Adam Wingard
Screenplay: Simon Barrett
Starring: Dan Stevens, Maika Monroe, Brendan Meyer, Lance Reddick

Synopsis is here

The Guest tackles a plot element in a similar way to Looper in which, when a character actually tries to boil down the barmy reasoning behind his being. They go against informing us the tricky, sticky details because it's "complicated". I was already beaming like a Cheshire cat at this point. I enjoy when films hit that right balance of self-awareness. It doesn't take you out of the film, but playfully jabs you about what you're watching. The Guest is full of moments like that. The film's final line, delightfully alludes to a certain 80's movie its makers clearly loved, yet still manages to sum up the WTF of the film. It works on two separate levels for two different viewers, and it's nice to see. Even when gussied up in an irrelevant retro thriller.

We first spot David (Dan Stevens) jogging down a deserted highway, army bag in tow, regulated breathing. He looks to be in training, or possibly running from something. The Guest lets us know soon enough, as David appears at the front door of the Petersons. David informs the family that he was an army buddy their deceased son Celeb, and he is welcomed in to stay a while has he sets some things straight. The thing is, while his blue eyes pop and he grins his warm smile, something always seems off with David.

Dan Stevens who plays the titular Guest of the film has one of those wonderful middle distance glares that he mixes with his handsome features, which makes everything about his performance in the early stages appear even more off kilter. Originally of Downton Abbey fame, this is the type of display that allows an actor to let loose and Stevens has a lot of fun here. From the aw shucks, southern accent, to the chance to show off his physique through sexually objectifying himself and hilariously gratuitous violence, Stevens not only gets into the trashy tone of the feature, but grabs at it with wide open arms.

It says a lot about a director like Adam Wingard to find the right actor to play this absurd, yet entertaining role. Taking Stevens away from what many know him for (stuffy, middle class period drama) and plunging him fully into the lead of a film that runs fast and loose with subverting politically correctness and joyously uses the likes of The Stepfather (1987) as a point of reference. Then again, as the writer/director of the highly enjoyable You're Next (2011), I should have expected as such.

Once again, Wingard delivers an inverted home invasion, in which the things you fear, are a lot closer to home than you would first expect. The film's wacky military sub-plot is outrageous in any serious consideration, but still manages to place the idea that the current military conflicts have sent back distant and dangerous young men who have been irrecoverably changed. Furthermore, the thing that they're most likely to disrupt first, is of course the good ol' American family. A unit who seems all too happy to welcome and believe unknown authority figures over their own members.

The snyth score and bold colour schemes are quick to notify you of just how much Wingard loved a certain type of 80's horror/thriller. Yet The Guest never loses itself in its homage and self-awareness. It's more of a straight up thriller in comparison to the similarly set Cold in July (2014), but never gets bogged down in its influences, unlike Ti West's The Sacrament (2013). The Guest shows Wingard growing in confidence as a genre director, the films brilliantly staged Halloween dance finale was perhaps one of the scenes I found the most enjoyable of 2014. Once again showing a director like Wingard letting everything hang out and have fun without things becoming sloppy. But that's the great thing about Wingard and a film like The Guest, everything is so tightly controlled, even when it gets messy. 




Sunday 4 January 2015

DVD Review: The Rover

Year: 2014
Director: David Michôd
Screenplay: Joel Edgerton, David Michôd
Starring: Guy Pearce, Robert Patterson

Synopsis is here

The Rover is a brutally grim apocalyptic thriller set 10 years after a "collapse" which ravaged Australia, possibly the world. As we enter this world, we see Australia as a sparse and deadened wasteland ravaged by the titular "event". The collapse could possibly refer to an event that has occurred within Eric (Pearce); the protagonist of the feature. If the exterior event displays the degradation of the materials we currently take for granted, then the insular collapse inside Eric is a crumbling of character and spirit. Despite this, there is a defiance within which we don't fully understand until the film's final moments. The final act by Eric will frustrate, upset and maybe even hearten. However, for a film goer like myself, writing this a day after viewing, it may also be difficult to forget.

The Rover is a lean cut of a film. There's little in terms of plot to really grasp on to, and that works in its favor. Pearce's Eric is drowning his demons in a bar before three thieves make off with his car. By chance, he captures the lead thief's brother (Robert Patterson) and the two of them work towards finding the trio and the missing vehicle.

David Michôd's second feature is much more of a mood piece than a solid set adventure. The film is far more interested in the brittleness of those who have lost everything, than a clear destination. An underlying tension pulses through many of the scenes. We find Pearce's Eric already nearing the brink of being mentally shattered. The theft of his vehicle only pushes him further down the decline. The word hardened doesn't give the man justice. Pearce again shows the type of intense performance that, we sometimes forget that he's very good at (the last thing I saw him in was the forgettable Iron Man 3 (2013))

Robert Patterson brings a jumble of man-child tics together to unleash a transformative display. Once again stepping away from the glittery vampire movies that placed him on the map, his role of Reynolds has a slight "Sling Blade (1996)" vibe to proceedings and yet, Patterson still manages to hold his own in an expressive performance that still manages to capture the despondent nature of the film.

Visually stark and with a hard edged tone that is difficult to shake off, The Rover doesn't bring everything together with the same completeness as other desolate features such as The Proposition (2008), nor does it have the same kinetic energy that the likes of Mad Max brought to post-apocalyptic worlds. But if Mad Max was about the insanity of staying mobile when everything is depleted, The Rover taps into the insular feelings of emotions themselves breaking down that Max only really held as a side note. There's the same cold feelings of dread felt here that could be found in the likes of Wake in Fright (1971) and The Road (2009), although The Rover slips at fully taking us into the world as those two examples did. That doesn't mean The Rover can't stand on its own two feet. It just means it holds good company.