Article: She’s Lost Control – Some words on A Teacher (2013)

Hannah Fidell’s debut movie A Teacher is short on running time but high on anxiety. It feels like pouring scalding water into a small cup over someone head while they are bound. Filling the container to the brim with the subject wincing in the knowledge that the cup at any time could spill or overflow. Drops of the liquid sting the person’s head, as they await with dread the moment that the pourer will twist their waist. Someone is going to get hurt.

That someone is Diana Watts (Lindsay Burdge). The film starts innocuously with a small glimpse of her basic routine. Jogging. Driving to work. Finally, we land at her job. She teaches English to High Schoolers. One student; Eric Tull (Will Brittain), asks for a book. It is handed to him with no incident. You feel that Diane’s face flickers slightly after the ask. If only for a second. Later that evening, the two meet up again. Eric walks with a swagger into Diane’s car. They have sex. We now understand that flicker.

The story is familiar. There’s been films and novels involving Ephebophilia since time memorial. Alissa Nutting’s debut novel; Tampa (2012) treads in similar ground, while Josh Radnor, of How I Met Your Mother fame, wading into the pool with his second film Liberal Arts (2013). But A Teacher refrains from toppling into the fully amoral quandary of Tampa, nor does it hedge self-satisfied bets like Radnor’s feature. Fidell’s film follows a more plausible outcome not too dissimilar to the likes of Kristen Roupenian’s popular short story Cat Person (2017), where characters are left isolated and fractured due to the dynamics at play.

A Teacher lacks the seductive temptress who inhabits a novel like Tampa. Nutting’s main character isn’t just deliciously sinful but is almost a model by description, designed almost exclusively to lure in the male gaze. It’s no surprise that Tampa’s lead could easily entice in an impressionable teen. Diana as a character is neatly framed as the type of young, approachable woman that you wouldn’t be surprised to walk down a school hall.

This is within the build of the character in which the film finds of its small areas of complexity. Diana is young and pretty but is not set up as the vampy predator, dressed to turn the heads of horny young boys as well as pervy parents or snooty work colleagues. Nor does she hold the type of personality that draws attention to herself. Her colleagues are mildly shocked that she has a brother; Hunter (Jonny Mars). We don’t know the timespan of Diana relationship with Eric, but it’s long enough to see that it’s carnal, comfortable and kept away from her roommate, whom she is relatively close to. Fidell layers more complication to proceedings in small doses. In a singular scene involving her brother, he refers to their mother who is suffering from an undisclosed mental illness. When Hunter mentions his concern for Diane, the conversation is shut down. There’s enough ambiguity to suggest not only an ailing parent but possible past conflict. The most poignant conversation Diana holds with Eric has her reference secretly having sex with her high school boyfriend unbeknown to her mother, again alluding to a vague possibility of trauma. Fidell drops breadcrumbs within the story but never sets down a full trail, allowing a viewer to question the reasonings of the behaviour.

Diana is framed by Fidell as an archipelago through the film. Isolating her from characters with simple blocking or surrounding her with large amounts of negative space. The one hobby we see Diana have is running, and she is shown performing this solitary hobby throughout the film. One of the more telling moments has Diana wandering amongst the wilderness of a ranch, which Eric’s father owns, the changes from a panning close-up to static as she grows smaller within the frame. Early on her roommate introduces her to two shlubby men more suited to her age. “You’re the teacher that every little kid wanted to bang” one states. It’s an amusing wink to the situation, but it also highlights the arrested development which seems rampant within the narrative. There’s no surprise that Diana is looking elsewhere to date when her so-called suitors are working on websites called LOLpoorpeople.com, yet by embarking on the relationship which appears doomed from the outset with a teenager, Diana shows her own irresponsibility, again leaving her adrift and isolated.
Whereas Josh Radnor’s Liberal Arts does little particularly interesting with the hot for teacher narrative, Fidell takes the things to haunting, plausible places. One feels that she’s able to by simply making the switch of gender. Fiction is littered with older males having a younger woman as a springboard to “finding himself”. I’m hard on Radnor’s liberal arts because it’s so soft on itself. Vaguely charming at times it’s a film that smugly allows its character to waltz into this young girl’s life, have a little bit of a fling but walk away with everyone “grown”. Fidell’s film is far more interested in muddying the waters with the power dynamics.

Diana, the person who should be seen as the moral compass, stumbles into a grease pit of fixation based around her impulsiveness. Eric not only as a jock with boyish charm but as a relatively sensible teenager who just happens to have the coding of the type of adolescent sweetheart that you could see girls reminiscing about after their school days end. Fidell frames Eric in dreamy white vignettes when Diana daydreams about him. In one instance she sends him a nude image with no foresight into what doing so may entail. Fidell’s blocking of these characters arrives at its strongest point when a seated Eric instructs Diana framed and confined in a doorway) to strip. Diana; the adult, the teacher is standing above Eric the student, and yet he holds all the power. A reverse play of Jemima Stehil’s strip photo set series in which the power of the sexual dynamics’ rests within Stehil herself despite asking prominent male players in the art world to take pictures of her while she disrobes. There is only one moment in which Eric’s control over Diana is relented, but even by the film's conclusion, it is clear how much is at stake for Diana over him.

It is the adolescent-like behaviour exhibited by Diana, through a deeply committed performance by Lindsay Burdge which makes A Teacher an absorbing watch. In this current age where modern culture writers want to reduce views of gender into 280 characters, Fidell creates a film which poses complicated questions around female desire, while wringing pockets of empathy from places we may not expect. Diana is no simpering wallflower, nor is she a hyper-confident mega bitch. A Teacher is smart in portraying a complicated woman who simply does not have her life on her own terms. Fidell intelligently mines the drama within that.

It’s easy to say that we should be morally against what occurs in the film. That’s easy. What’s interesting here is watching a film which garners an element of compassion over a situation we’ve clearly been told is wrong. But this is a film which is far more interested in emotional investment and portraying mood via camera placement. Due to this, the film’s resolution may come across as unsurprising and abrupt, yet it still says everything it needs to more accurately than a film with double it’s running time. By the end of the film’s mere 75 minutes, we’ve watched the cup spill over. It burns.

A Teacher is Available on Amazon Prime in the UK

Review: The Past

Year: 2013 (U.K Release 2014)
Director: Asghar Farhadi
Screenplay: Asghar Farhadi
Starring: Bérénice Bejo, Tahar Rahim, Ali Mosaffa

Synopsis is here:

To say I have a problem with mainstream cinema’s addiction to broad moral arrangements would be incorrect. As budgets grow higher and international audiences become even more important to Hollywood, it’s understandable to see films appear to be more uncomplicated in their principles. I’ve mentioned on this blog, at least in one entry, how much I enjoyed some Blockbusters more simple outlooks towards its subjects.

However a film fan cannot live on It’s when films slip into more difficult territory, that I find myself more engaged. I love an entertaining diversion, but they just don’t stain the memory as much as The Past. Through such an alarmingly simple set-up, an ex coming back sign his divorce papers, this absorbing drama has a vivid poignancy which lesser films can only ever hope for. Like Asghar Farhadi’s previous film; A Separation,  The Past boasts wonderful uses of form, which only enhance the inner conflicts of the characters we observe.

You sense the film's intent from its opening moments. When we first meet Ahmad (Mosaffa), he is leaving the Airport to meet his pick up and soon to be ex wife Marie (Bejo). They notice each other but are separated by the glass window of the airport. They try to talk to each other yet they cannot hear what the other is saying. It’s a small moment that foreshadows one of The Past's main themes, the difficulty of communication. As the film continues, we observe how each character's willingness/unwillingness to communicate draws divisions between each other. As in A Separation, the games of the adults cause considerable wedges between the children, while their impulsive behaviors, keep the tensions of the elders on a knife edge.

The Past works because it’s human characters are so beautifully drawn. Bejo’s Marie is not a two dimensional shrew, but a conflicted woman whose lack of brevity, forces  the man in her life into near impossible positions. Ahmad caring qualities shine with both Marie’s and Samir’s children, yet it’s clear that his desire for a clean resolution to the situation obscures the reality. Samir (A Prophet’s Tahar Rahim) is not a dim cypher that one could easily see an American film portray him as, but a deeply torn young struck by both his past and present loves. These people are drenched in differing moral shades. Bad things happen, yet not for the simple reasoning that these people are evil, but desperate, drained and damaged.

Farhadi wraps these characters up within a Paris that feels miles away from the one we recognize in other movies.  There are no landmarks to speak of and why should there be? This is a Paris which has been "lived in". That is the romantic, idealistic view of the city. Whatever sights there could have been, are long forgotten now. All that exists now for these characters, is how they wish to deal with their past to cope with their present, yet they are constantly reminded. At one point Ahmad notices that the house he once lived in with Marie is being repainted. It’s not just the walls being painted over, but memories too.

This is Farhadi’s first film outside of Iran, but his ability to deliver rich drama has not been lost in translation. Every performance is weighted, every moment is measured and every emotion is balanced. For me the film works not just because of its densely packed compositions, but because when we add up all I see from these people and how this small segment of the relationship plays out, the film is still compelling enough to make me think twice and reconsider each person's position. Something these characters must do in every moment we are with them.

THE YEAR THAT WAS: 2013

2013 turned out to be a pretty bad year for me from a personal standpoint. My pleasant experiences have been marred and tainted by many displeasing ones, including job losses, suicide and relationship worries. It’s nothing that many others have faced, but for the first time in my own life, I’ve found it more than a little overwhelming. Mostly due to the intense timeframe of when these things occurred.  It is times like these that make me happy that I can still lose myself in the glare of the screen.

On New Year’s Eve, I once again found myself talking to some old friends about movies, with more current features gaining much of the focus. “I just want to watch silly, stupid things” said a old university friend, who quit film studies during the first year as he felt the course sucked the fun out of the actual watching of movies. 

Another friend (who completed film studies with much displeasure) appeared to nod in agreement. This isn’t new to me. I’ve seen a few old friends both in college and university, become disinterested in film, due to having to study it.

As usual, I opened my big mouth and nearly killed the conversation with my belief that when it comes to film, there must be a decent balance between easy entertainment that most audiences appear to crave and of course films which look to enrich the viewer with what it considers intelligent discourse. While it’s great to crunch the corn, slurp the soda and zone out to the often stated (by critics) “mindless spectacle”, I do believe there should also be room for something else. Something that can be savoured without the need for a second or third part to rectify all that was “missing” from the film you just spent XX amount on. What frustrated me with a lot of this year’s viewing, looking back, was that I really noticed that balance starting to slip. Not just from film to film (just speak to Mark Kermode about the false belief of choice at a multiplex) but within film themselves.

Many complained about how disappointing the summer blockbusters were and there are some interesting theories behind that. For me what I found was a lack of risk, ambition and that very balance that we used to find in films before. Three of the biggest films; Iron Man 3, Star Trek into Darkness and Man of Steel were all different franchises at different stages in their cycles, and yet every villain was a typical terrorist and their schemes had very little to differ them. All had lengthy running times, but plots that couldn’t really sustain them. All were shinny enough for brief amusement but did little to cement them within my mind. I couldn’t tell you anything about Star Trek in Darkness now, and I only watched it in the summer. I warmed to Man of Steel while I wrote about the film, but after a week I felt I lied about what I had scribbled down previously. There are other entries that I would like to re-engage with, but I know that deep down those titles can wait. Honestly; it’s not usually like this.

I think part of the problem is this the continuous arrested development which is taking place in mainstream movies. These features are becoming more and more impersonal with the only thing connecting them being the knowledge of the brand itself. The Benidict Cumberbatch’s twist that wasn’t a twist in Star Trek into Darkness was a very clear example of this. The reason this character exists in this film universe is only to remind you that he does. The same goes with the vague and needless nods that littered Spike Lee’s oddly limp Oldboy.  The words cut and paste has never felt more apt. But then again it is said that they’re all singing from the same hymn sheet.

With that in mind, I found it harder to gain that inmate connection I often get with movies. I’m now even less surprised by the continuous rise of the television golden age. The Walter Whites and Dexters of the small screen, present character conundrums that seem to appear less and less as brand recognition and franchise entries strengthen their hold. Let’s not lie to ourselves as if the era of Don Simpson didn’t exist and that all mainstream, populist films gave us intellectual sustenance. Broad is broad. But you only need to watch the first 30 minutes of A Good Day to Die Hard to notice there’s been an uncomfortable shift somewhere. As these characters and narratives are given less nuance, the warm feeling I enjoy has dimmed slightly.

The rabid internet culture hasn’t helped things, nor has the transitional state caused by technology dismantling the business model as we know it. Now we have an audience that want original and new product that doesn't stray from whatever source material it’s from and they want it at decent quality... for free. A quick glance at a film forum, comment board or twitter feed has reminded me just how all consuming the internet as become.

Normally I’m more critical of the idea that the quality of films are going down and often mention that we, the audience, are masters of our own cinematic destiny. Yet as 2013 wore on, I found myself becoming wearier of things I usually found easier to ignore. I’ve moved back to a town which has two cinemas, and yet both still show signs of only chasing the same audience to compete. It becomes maddening to know that certain films play at both while others (that could possibly do ok business) play at neither. I’ve upped my streaming options at home by signings on Netflix, but as this article illustrates, Netflix isn’t as welcoming to certain types of film lover as you may think. Issues I’ve found problematic in the past have improved their voice and learned to shout a little louder.

I shouldn’t complain too much, because as always, I still had some great film experiences at the cinema as well as at home. I still managed to struggle with picking ten favourite films out of a fair few that really hit the mark and I still enjoyed more than I truly hated. I’m just in the minority that’s seeing a bit too much of mould, and wouldn’t mind it being broken a bit more. Silly stupid films are fine, but there used to be a time when they felt smarter than that. 

As always; these are my favourites and you shouldn’t complain if you don’t see yours (No order):

Zero Dark Thirty

Stoker

Behind the Candelabra

Before Midnight

The World’s End

Only God Forgives

A Hijacking

Frances Ha

Gravity

What Richard Did

Damn Fine Honorable Mentions:

Django

Side Effects

Mud

Filth

Captain Phillips

Bling Ring

Review: Frances Ha

Year: 2013
Director:  Noah Baumbach
Screenplay: Noah Baumbach, Gerta Gerwig
Starring: Gerta Gerwig

Synopsis is here:

As a so called film fan; I don’t think I should say this, but Frances Ha is my first Noah Baumbach movie. I’ve wanted to dig into his filmography in the past but I simply haven’t found time to investigate yet another director who’s assesses the prickly lives of privileged middle class America. You must believe me on this, as for some reason or another, I find myself very attracted to this sub genre.

I found myself thinking about how crafty Frances Ha actually is in its execution. Like the works of Whit Stillman, Sophia Coppola, Lena Dunham and of course the mumblecore movement, Frances Ha is a film that delves into the habits of people that we honestly believe have little to worry about. An awkward and self involved twenty-something struggling to sustain a bohemian lifestyle within New York City. Frances comes from a decent family, is college educated and living in what is considered one of the greatest cities. Living in a state of arrested development with her best friend Sophie, Frances is quite happy with this idle way of life until of course, Sophie finds love.

Unlike Whit Stillman’s annoyingly condescending Damsels in Distress (also starring Gerwig), Frances draws us in because she thinks she knows it all. She pretends to those who listen and when she’s found out (quickly) she still holds enough charm to want you to just give her a hug. She balances precariously between irritatingly annoying and that best friend who never grew up but was always fun to be around. To some she may grate for the 90 minutes, but I loved Frances happy go lucky charm. It’s hard not to feel jealous of her care free spirit, although you want to shake her for not “growing up”.

This said, why should she grow up? Baumbach’s film wryly highlights the economic strain that is now beginning to press the moderately middle class as much as the poor. Frances may be scatty, but what we realise from her interactions with the people around her, even working hard in her creative outlet wouldn’t help things. Frances Ha is more of a character study than a political indictment, but knowing that Frances is coming of age defiantly in front of the sour faces of people that have very little to worry about, has a certain charm about it.

A playful homage to the French New Wave, Woody Allen’s Manhattan and the current America lo fi independents, Frances Ha’s look and feel (along with its casting) make sure it’s not as slick as Joe Swanberg’s sweet but knowing Drinking Buddies but holds a warmth and earnestly about its characters that many female lead movies sorely lack. Romance is hinted at but isn’t the be all and end all of Frances life. She’s just as gawky as the boys and while men come in and out of the frame of the story, they do not define the tale.

From a narrative standpoint, I fear those who need a more solid structure may be driven mad by Baumbach’s wandering plot. However France Ha is rich in other ways, such Sam Levy’s gorgeous black and white cinematography, which feels like the only way you could present a life like Miss Halladay. Meanwhile Gerwig performance improves upon her Hannah takes the stairs persona, giving us a much more rounded character from those we’ve seen from her before.

Frances not easy to like but has a persistence in her character that bites at the ankles like a terrier. This is a film fuelled on its distinctive sense of humour, its deceptively optimistic tone and a lead performance which has energy in spades. Frances Ha may be monochrome in conception, but like the lead character, it’s full of colour.

Review: A Hijacking

Year: 2013
Director: Tobias Lindholm
Screenplay: Tobias Lindholm
Starring: Søren Malling, Pilou Asbaek, Abdihakin Asgar

Synopsis is here

I must admit it’s a little unexpected to write about two Somalian hijacking films in the same year. It’s not really the type of subject you expect people to pull focus on. But it seems that 2013 quietly became the year of the pirates.*

Hollywood typically nabbed some top class British talent, a massive movie star and gave us the everyman over adversity narrative that the studios do so well. While Captain Phillips is the kind of physical, slap in the face affair you’d expect from its makers, A Hijacking is a more distilled creature that creeps up on a willing viewer. Like Chinese water torture, it’s a slow and quiet decent into various dimensions of torment. The film shows just how destabilising a long running hostage crisis could be. At first I questioned the need for title cards counting the days. Once we start to reach treble figures, it becomes near impossible to comprehend the pressure.

We see the complex strains of the shipping company’s relationships from the get go. The first scene captures the ships cook, Mikkel (Malling) already feeling the burden of being so far from his wife and child. He has to inform her that he’ll be away for a while longer. Meanwhile; miles away on land, the companies CEO; Peter (Asbaek), is on shaky ground conducting tough business affairs with an Asian office. It’s clear he can play hard ball, but possibly not as strongly as he hopes. Once hijacking occurs (off screen), the reason why become evident. It’s important to note that these opening moments are more economic and effective in their execution than the more perfunctory opening act of Captain Phillips. More already feels at stake.  

The strength of A Hijacking stems from how it deals with the politics of the situation. We observe tired men putting their bargaining expertises to the maximum. The crew struggle to keep on an even keel, while the kidnaper’s turn the screw with psychological war ware.   The translator and lead negotiator; Omar (Asgar), is an insidious beast, who claims he’s just as under the cosh as the shipmates, yet as the only portal their home life, his restrictions on the most basic of necessities become intolerable. There’s hardly any psychical violence and there doesn’t need to be, as the emotion of fear runs rife through the victims involved.

Back home; the clinical offices become secondary homesteads and pressure soon rises to boiling point. These sequences become vital as Peter tackles not only the worried families of those at sea, but the stern uncaring faces of those higher than him. As the situation drags on, both parties ask when things will be resolved, for two entirely different reasons. The film’s mean strength becomes a slight weakness as we’re forced to believe that Peter as a CEO is as caring about his crew as he is. Considering our real life political issues right now, one could feel that Peter’s unwavering stance could feel false. So much so it loses some of its complexity.

Never the less, A Hijacking wins us over with a succession of scenes that plough us through the wringer. The performances never miss a beat and the unpretentious direction only enhances the urgency and reality of the piece.  The film never loses its sombre tone and while quieter than Captain Phillips, A Hijacking holds scenes that penetrate the nerves like a slow acting poison. By the end of the film, we need little reminding that the scars still remain. When looking back at the films strongest scenes, it’s then we noticed just how distressing the filmmakers made singing happy birthday.  But that’s what makes A Hijakcing so effective. Without the Hollywood muscle and the Navy brawn, we get something a lot colder. The title sinisterly tells us that this isn’t just a physical undertaking, but an emotional one.

*Pirates that do not impersonate rock stars

Review: Oldboy

Year: 2013

Director: Spike Lee

Screenplay:  Mark Protosevich

Starring: Josh Brolin, Elizabeth Olsen, Sharlto Copley, Samuel L Jackson

Synopsis is here:

If you type Oldboy into your favourite search engine, you should notice that the 2003 Korean thriller appears first, above this year’s remake. I say this now as it reminds me of one thing: Spike Lee hasn’t ruined Oldboy.  Has Matt Reeves ruined Let the Right One in? Has Gus Van Sant besmirched your memories of Psycho? No. They haven’t. If you think they have, then turn in your film fan card and give your original version DVD’s to someone else.

That said, while imitation is the highest form of flattery, such projects usually fail due to a misalignment of elements. The repeating of sequences may satisfy an audience who feel they’re above reading subtitles, yet these set pieces and narratives are regenerated without the reason why they were so beguiling in the first place. Often it’s something cultural that’s subtracted for the sake of boarding the perspective of the new viewers. Spike Lee’s Oldboy suffers because it’s full of such examples.

Unlike The Departed, Scorsese’s crime drama, which took the Hong Kong based Infernal Affairs and reformatted itself into a property that could stand on its own two feet, Oldboy merely eliminates the oddities of its Korean source material a simply movies the rest to American shores.  The Oldboy narrative is so peculiar and the original director so particular that a straight up reimagining just doesn’t cut it.

If we liken films to cooking, Lee’s has the basic recipe, but it’s possibly missing the unami paste that gives us a certain flavour. Maybe certain ingredients have been placed in the oven a tad too long (explaining Sharlto Copley’s over baked performance). Perhaps it forgets when the pot needs to simmer and when everything needs to be brought to the boil. This is a film which looks like it should taste the same, but will have you reaching for the seasoning. 

A scene we remember from the 2003 Oldboy has our lead protagonist devour a live octopus on screen as he wishes to eat something alive. After being locked up for 15 years, we are watching a character that is quite simply dead inside. He is consuming the creature for feeling. Fast forward ten years to the U.S counterpart. We have a moment in which Josh Brolin spies an Octopus briefly. We’ve suddenly shifted from an acute visual metaphor to a vague silly head nod. Now something which had significance is now rendered near meaningless.

Spike’s take on the originals infamous corridor sequence is one of the most striking moments of choreography of the year. It’s a solid piece of action filmmaking and yet still it misses the point. Instead of a character that is unsure of his capabilities, Brolin stomps on each stooge as if he was a superhero with little weakness. No weakness, no worry.

You shouldn’t really compare remakes to their original counterparts. However Lee’s Oldboy never strays too far from the original property, and when it does, it sways into the wrong direction. I can once again point you in the direction of Copley’s annoyingly distracting display, but here is also the matter of Elizabeth Olsen being left out to dry with the flatly portrayed character of Marie, as well as Brolin’s solid but overtly macho Joe Doucett who is set up as a raging animal from the start and little of the wounded beast which we remember Oh Dae-su.

You can sense that Spike is not that interested in the studio system. He’s avoided it for most of his career and Oldboy shows why. So many elements feel like studio influence as opposed to director’s choice. Take away a few Spike traits and Oldboy could have been filmed by anyone. There is little of Lee’s own persona or creativity to counterbalance the problems the translation brings, so the outcome feels like a mishandled exercise more than anything.

This American retelling loses much of the melodrama of the Korean film mostly because American retellings have little time for such things. Park Chan-Wook’s 2003 piece is a film that understands that stillness is as important as ferocity. It’s no surprise that when we look Park’s work in this year’s Stoker, it’s played with the same delicate touch. Spike's Oldboy is primal from the get go, but adds no layers to itself. Broiln is an animal that needs to be caged and that's it. There's little poetry to proceedings, the tragic nature of the outrageous twists is never really peeked at. Simply put: Oldboy is an opera that Spike tried to make a rap remix from.

Review: Black Nativity

Year: 2013

Director: Kasi Lemmons

Screenplay: Kasi Lemmons

Starring: Forest Whitaker, Angela Bassett, Tyrese Gibson, Jennifer Hudson, Mary J. Blige, Jacob Latimore, Vondie Curtis-Hall, and Nas.

Despite what my family and friends may think, I am more interested in the voices of others than my own. So listening to the assorted mutters and murmurings of the other patrons of this screening was far more exciting, than me sprouting off any so called film "cred". I shuffled myself into the corner next to the nibbles and earwigged on the nearby conversations.

As the screening of the film was for the new family feature "Black Nativity" the conversations were of course on just where the "Black" movie went. It was invigorating to hear excited voices talk about the 90's boom where films with an Afro-centric cast were a lot easier to discover then now. Even Tyler Perry doesn't make British shores (despite decent minority presence and Perry making top dollar in his native land). It seems fairly obvious that there’s an audience that wish for more movies of this ilk, and while the likes of Blue Caprice, 12 Years a Slave and Fruitvale Station have started to make waves, it still seems to be a struggle to see Afro-centric films in lighter affair. 

Enter Black Nativity which despite dealing with quite typical themes of poverty, religious elders and run away baby daddies, tries to imbue festive cheer by taking the Langston Hughes play of the same name and re-envisioning the material as a modern hip-hop musical. The outcome is more than a little uneven.

Jacob Latimore plays Langston Cobbs (check the namesake), a young and rebellious teen whose mother (a spirited but stilted display from Jennifer Hudson) forces him to move from his (newly evicted) home in Baltimore to his estranged grandparents in Harlem, New York. Here he finds himself on a spiritual and emotional journey which helps him find not only a meaning of Christmas but family identity as well.

Black Nativity is a film which likes to think that meaning well will be enough for it to get by. Its mawkish screenplay and awkward editing, do a lot to hinder a film that wishes to place a fresh spin on a well worn narrative. The film often leaps haphazardly from sensitive moment to heavy handed, obvious message musical at the drop of the dime. You can’t dismiss the quality of the music production and the cast, but you can really raise an eyebrow to the often awkward tonal shifts and simplistic lyrics. One may also wonder why certain famous faces appear in the film.  The likes of Mary J Blige and Nas appear if only to try and engage a certain target audience. This wouldn’t be so much of a problem if we got more from their performances, but their aural displays haven’t lost their shine.

The film is left up to the older guard to pick up the slack and Forest Whitaker and Angela Bassett happily oblige. Both Whitaker and Bassett light up the humorous and dramatic scenes that they feature in and give the film the grounding and energy that Black Naivety sorely needs. This is much needed as Latimore (Vanishing on 7^th Street) struggles to carry the film where it needs to go. His surliness feels more wooden than anything and the character himself is tough to love at the best of times.

That said, this is the point of Black Nativity. It reminds us that family is not just in name but in blood and while the character’s themes and turns are obvious and the film holds no real surprises, the story that surrounds it has enough small moments to connect with its target base. I also have to say that while the film didn’t stir me emotionally, it did direct me towards the works of Langston Hughes; the black writer whose works became an integral aspect of what was known as the Harlem Renaissance, a cultural movement which explored the lives of African Americans during the 1920’s. While Black Nativity doesn’t have the same sense of commune and spirit that those works brought to people. It clearly shows a wish to try and reach such a depth. It’s safe to say that a cynic like me may find Black Nativity a little hard to swallow, however I will not be surprised if many get caught up with the films music and message.  I do feel the film will keep the people talking. Hopefully such talk will get louder and more interesting productions will be brought to the foreground because of it. The film may rest on its good intentions, but in comparison to bigger films I’ve seen this year, at least it’s has them.

Review: Captain Phillips

Year: 2013

Director: Paul Greengrass

Screenplay: Billy Ray

Starring: Tom Hanks, Barkhad Adbi, Faysal Ahmed

Synopsis is here

I’m still trying to figure out in my mind if Captain Phillips is a stunning film all together, or if the films climax is so strong that we forget that its first act feels quite plain. I considered the film that helped make Greengrass such a viable director in America; United 93 and found myself more engrossed with how that film looked at preparation and meditation. United 93 had a perfect balance of dread and procedural in its beginning, with its quiet moments betraying the impending chaos. Here Greengrass tries a similar thing but with less success to the tone. We see the films two captains going through their routines, blissfully unaware of how both will place each other through their paces. Phillips (an on form Hanks) and his wife (Catherine Keener in a small cameo) debate their son’s future before he sets off for his long haul. On the other side we find Adbuwali Muse (Adbi) lead a group of Somali pirates towards Phillips ship in search of ransom.

Greengrass’ ace in the hole, much like United 93 and Green Zone, is his ability to remind us that there are two sides to the story we’re watching. The time we spend with the pirates is vital, as we witness just what survival means to them. Unfortunately while the build up of character is needed for later on, there’s a distinct lack of urgency and blandness towards proceedings I cannot place my finger on. I can honestly say I can’t remember too much of the film before the clash of cultures.

Once Muse and Phillips meet, the screws begin to tighten. The idle chit chats and work grumblings that littered Phillips’ ship before are exchanged for frightened glances and hushed tones. The Pirates invade the ship both visually and orally. Their demands are yelled at a near unintelligible pitch and tensions accelerate to their peak because of this alone. The fear of their guns is obvious, but the combination of this along with the alien sound of another language being screamed constantly brings a worry we don’t often think about. Is someone demanding for you to do something or a commanding someone else to shoot you? This maybe based on a true story and yet I still found myself gripping my chair arms until my knuckles went white. I feel now it’s important for you to look at my profile picture as you will then realise the extremity of the tension.   

From that moment on, Greengrass’ powerful use of space takes hold. We alternate from tight claustrophobic close ups of desperate faces before switching to vast landscape views which show a lifeboat as a mere pin prick on an endless sea. Like Gravity; power of Captain Phillips comes from just how powerless the protagonists are rendered.  Both films are also superb at using tech to shove us within their characters headspaces. Twenty years ago, this film would seem an even more arduous task to comprehend. The work of Greengrass’ crew is overwhelmingly intricate, that I’m not surprised that more nauseous viewers avoided it due to seasickness. It’s that seamless.

The cast are equally unerring with Barkhad Adbi and Faysal Ahmed keeping up with the ever dutiful Hanks at every step. It’s important to remember that these are first-time performers and their ability to show the right amount of intensity and humanity should be well noted. We should not enjoy their acts, but the displays shown by the actors create an empathy that is difficult to attain.   

Like all filmed true stories, Captain Phillips clearly takes liberties. It’s amusing to see that Phillips does the same walkie talkie move I witnessed two days after when I watched Harrison Ford in Air Force One (if that was actaully done was it life imitating art?).  It’s also clear that the pirates run under certain archetypes. We have The Captain, the Kid, and the hot head all on show so it’s fair to say that there is a certain poetic licence in play. Yet while it’s based on true events, we’re supposed to gain the feel of what it’s like and not a full documentation. There are places to gain “more truth” I came for the film. And this is what Greengrass brings after a rather mundane beginning.

I watched this on the opening weekend of Catching Fire and the film has already seemingly dropped out of critical discourse, as is the way of many movies these days. Would people still be writing about Phillips if the beginning was stronger, or is this how we treat all films these days? That seems a shame if it’s the latter as Greengrass’ final stunning moments hit harder than many others films complete running times. That in itself is worth talking about alone. 

Review: Mud

Year: 2012 (U.K Release Date 2013)

Director:  Jeff Nichols

Screenplay:  Jeff Nichols

Starring:  Matthew McConaughey, Tye Sheridan, Sam Shepard, Reese Witherspoon.

Synopsis is here:

The man whose been known for learning on cheesy film posters continues his reinvention with yet another sun-kissed, deep fired southern performance. Matthew McConaughey used to be a named that would strike certain film fans with fear.  Whether McConaughey sacked his agent or just started rejecting the easier script, now, we have a leading man who isn’t afraid to take risks and skew with that honey smooth charm that he is known for.

McConaughey plays Mud; a mysterious drifter who befriends two young boys and drags them into the fractured world of adult relationships. Ellis (A sweet yet commanding display by Sheridan); the more dominant of the two boys, has had his life flitter around such troubled matters through his parents, but his wish to help the enigmatic Mud hurtles his transition to adulthood into overdrive.

Much like A Room for Romeo Brass (1999), we have two boys who encounter a man who appears to be locked in arrested development. As Mud resists confronting himself and his past which has finally caught up with him, the boys have their own ideals challenged because of it. Like Romeo Brass what makes the dynamic so engaging is how Nichols, like Meadows, develops this story and characters such a rich atmosphere. The cold overcast hues of Nichols’ Take Shelter have been replaced by golden hues. Mud’s tanned skin seems to match the background, becoming part of the backwater Arkansas’ setting. When Mud first appears, it’s if by magic, suddenly drifting into view, as if he’s always been there as part of the thrown out furniture. The more the boys learn, the more that Mud becomes a cautionary tale. Such broken hearted stories feel part and parcel of people’s lives in these parts.

Both Ellis and Neckbone (Jacob Lofland) are industrious and pure of heart protagonists who, like Moonrise Kingdom, are thrown into the messy and childish lives of adults. Mud shows them a well worn path and the two’s reactions against the tide are what makes the film worthwhile.  The plot is not as balanced as Take Shelter, and the sub-plots are a little undercooked. But Nichols draws wonderfully natural performances from his cast and enriches the drama with gorgeous cinematography to create a sensitive and good natured piece of American cinema that people still honestly believe doesn’t exist. More fool them. 

Review: Blue Caprice

Year: 2013

Director: Alexandre Moors

Screenplay: R.F.I. Porto

Starring: Isaiah Washington, Tequan Richmond, Joey Lauren Adams, Tim Blake Nelson, Leo Fitzpatrick

Synopsis is here

It’s an obvious theme to draw on but identity rears its head so much in Black African-American lead movies. So many “black” films deal culturally who they are as people, who they wish to be and of course how White America often perceives them. What interests me about Blue Caprice is the true story of the DC snipers that inspired the movie. When the story first broke, the suspects of the crimes we considered to be white gunman, who were army trained. This alone touches on the depth our cultural perceptions. The idea that the gunmen could be black seemed almost alien to people.

For me such institutionalised thought makes crimes like the one dramatised in Blue Caprice all the more frightening. To think that only some people will commit certain transgression will only allow the evil to flow quicker and easier.  Alexandre Moors’ film toys with the audience with this information. Hearing of America “striking back” during the Iraq spew forth from old T.V sets. The murderous plan that slowly uncovers during the film is full of jihad-like talk and yet it feels more like convenience than a true “calling”. Even more concreted elements of the plan fall to the wayside once we begin to follow the titled Blue Caprice which prowls the Washington highways like a rusted monster. The car takes on a persona of its own with its ordinariness becoming the most remarkable and threatening thing about it.  When we watch, we consider Scorsese's Taxi Driver (1976). In the same way we wouldn’t suspect the taxi to hide such malevolence, we wouldn’t think twice about the Caprice.

Blue Caprice may not be as potent as Taxi Driver, but the comparisons are still strong. Caprice shows us lonely, confused men, hurt by the women in their life.  We see a mother who selfishly care only for herself and another (unseen) ex-wife and mother who does what she can to keep her children away from their father. We have an unfortunate boy with no parental figure and a father who only seems to create misfortune, by the way of kidnappings and restraining orders.  These men with no outlets for their repression meet through an unexpected circumstance and begin a relationship forged on their hurt. They blow off stream with shooting practice and wrestling in the woods.

 At first we pity the films youth; Lee (Richmond), as he like so many young black men is left with little guidance from his own parentage. As John (Washington) enters his life, he also enters his mind. Clouding it like the overcast weather that inhabits Washington DC. John’s behaviour reeks of deception, he mutters about his old neighbourhood as ghosts who ousted him once his relationship ended yet flitters around Lee (and the frame) like a malevolent apparition. Speaking to his protégé with an eerily calm yet forceful tone. At first their conversations never sound dangerous. Like the Caprice there’s an anonymity about them that shades the villainy.

Blue Caprice constantly hides in the grey and the shade, chilling the bones with its quietly tense nature. It’s the flecks of blood that creep you out more than the full act. The killings are non-descript and never gratuitous, their victims just seem to disappear or drop down dead. The fear hangs in the air like a foul smell. Any sadness we felt about the plight of the two swiftly melts into horror and frustration. It sympathy was felt, it will definitely be lost by the final frame.

But that’s if we had any to begin with. Moors’ film may feel a little too “sundance-like” with his shallow depth of field shots and remind one of Gus Van Sant’s Elephant with much of its blocking of Lee. But from its opening it craftily foreshadows the characters demise with its Hitchcock like framing of characters behind gates and bars. The film's use of light and shadow often obscures the faces of the lead, particularly in the beginning. The film keeps us at distance. Already making sure these people remain “unknown” to us. The last line is a question posed to a person of authority and us ourselves. It burrows to a depth we need from such a drama.  Despite having some of the screenplay’s weakest dialogue, it is far more open ended than you think on first glance, but plays into so much of what I’ve mentioned. When the question is asked, we wonder too. Because we realise what identities broken or missing can cultivate.

Review: Gravity

Year: 2013

Director: Alfonso Cuaron

Screenplay: Alfonso Cuaron, Jonas Cuaron

Starring: Sandra Bullock, George Clooney, Ed Harris

Synopsis is here:

What I write here is information you can take or leave. My reviews are not so much about “telling people what to watch”: a belief which that many people feel about the idea of reviewing and criticism.  No, I write to merely state a personal view on whether or not a film works on me based on my own values, prejudices and otherwise. If one shares similar attitudes, enjoys and agrees with me, that’s the humble reward for my so called work.

I mention this because I know not everyone will feel like I did about Gravity, but that's fine. I’m so often on an island when it comes to my film taste I’ve set up my own coconut selling store.  But I’m still naive to think that honesty is key and I wholeheartedly believe that Gravity is one of the most moving and life-affirming films I have ever witnessed.  Beyond the films slight narrative and unsurprising plot elements is a film that is simply breathtaking in its execution.

Gravity not only squeezes tension out of each minute of its runtime, giving full weight to the hostile environment these characters inhabit and displaying their fragility, but the film, like others of Cuaron’s, grounds the film with a heart that pulsates it’s humanity on the screen. Cuaron notes his intentions with small visual cues (note the religious artefacts set up almost like a gag), but the ground work is done here by Sandra Bullock.  An actress whom I’ve never really given my full attention (although I love her work in Demolition Man), blind sides us with her powerfully expressive display. She has been formidable in her more expected roles, but here she has such forcefulness in her physical performance we realise that despite the thinness of character on the page, we understand her fears ad emotions by even just the slightness of gesture. Clooney’s work is mostly one of a voice of reason. Bullock not only does all the heavily lifting but does so with such astounding ease, it’s made me realise just how much I’ve been missing from her previous works.

With so many films asking inviting us to watch heroes save the world, what makes Gravity stand out is its wish to show somebody save themselves. The film roams in the same realms of the likes of Buried and Cast Away, but Gravity’s setting, performance and direction invigorates the dynamic. We see Earth, our planet; hovering in the distance in such a way that you feel you could reach out to it. Yet it’s clearly so far away that it seems to taunt our characters, mocking our frailty. When we see what may happen to Bullock’s Ryan, we get the very real feeling of the risks she must take and the enormous effort she will need in order to survive. I watched the film in 3D and marvelled at how the filmmakers use it to illustrate the depth and dimension of the infinite. This is the first time that I did not muck around with the glasses. I found myself too enthralled with the film and what I felt it was saying. Matt Zoller Seitz states the film evoked the imagery of The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928), I was reminded of the imagery of Bergman with close up’s that staring into the void. Searching for meaning within a seemingly hopless existance I found myself so into the headspace of Ryan, I asked the same questions that she asks herself. Unlike many other films of its type I’m not looking at the mechanics, scientific inaccuracies aside, this feels organic. When films get like this, we been to fret for the character in a unique way. We don’t called the actors name, we call out for the character themselves. I muttered to myself at least three times.

This was the effect Gravity had on me. My popcorn sat uneaten and my fizzy pop was left, going flat.  I created new creases on the inside of my jeans at each new set piece.  There are moments of humour in Gravity but often I didn't laugh. I was trying to regulate my breathing. Terror has never been so alluring, so beautiful and yet by the end I found myself moved by the experience. Its technical prowess is there for all to see (many have asked how did they achieve what they did) but beyond that is a simply tale of morality that shook me to the core. This year has been a tough one for me and took these 90 minutes to reinstall a faith in me that has been missing for quite a while. We all find ourselves staring into the blackness, Gravity confronted our (read: my) fears in a way only a few other films have. As I said before, not everyone is going to feel the same way about Gravity and that’s fine. I fully get if you came here for a normal film review and came across ponderous nonsense. You can take or leave the information. I will say that after the film finished I walked home I did so in silence. I refrained from jamming my headphones in my ears. The heavens opened and I listened to the patter of the rain on the ground as I walked. During the 30 minute journey I didn't mind getting wet. I was just happy to be alive.

Review: Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters

Year: 2013

Director: Tommy Wirkola

Screenplay: Tommy Wirkola

Starring: Jeremy Renner, Gemma Arterton, Peter Stromare, Famke Janssen

Synopsis is here:

Hansel and Gretel clearly wishes to be a cult comedy. The names Adam McKay and Will Farrell flitter up on the screen during the film’s opening credits, which play on an idea of fairy tale land newspapers. There’s a riff of Shrek in the air as you watch. This doesn't leave easily. Later on when Hansel narrowly avoids an oncoming arrow, we get a moment of bullet time. Shrek played with Matrix effects in what seems to be quite an age. Hansel and Gretel makes it feel like 2001 all over again.

That comes off a little harsh, considering the vast amount of films which have borrowed from the popular effect that The Matrix series help make popular. That said Hansel and Gretel wants to join in with some of the popularity made with po-faced fairy tale revamps such as Snow White and the Huntsman (2012), while trying to make sure that everyone’s forgotten that Terry Gilliam toyed with Grimm tales with mixed results in the tortured Miramax project The Brothers Grimm (2005).

Hansel and Gretel lacks the spiritedness that a director like Gilliam embraces wholeheartedly. His film may not work fully to certain viewers but many can take solace in the offbeat humour he tries to install within his piece as while of the ambition of a few of the ideas.  Tommy Wirkola’s H&G:WH is more about sexing everything up, as is the way with this cycle of fairy tales. See the aforementioned Snow White and the Huntsman.

The off pace Hansel and Gretel has no Monty Python gene and it shows, establishing itself with violence and swearing to try and endear itself to the dream audience of teenagers but perhaps lacking in the askew view that would give it a true cult feel. Yes this faux old timey period has makeshift tasers and defibrillators but these aren't felt has fun gags, more mediocre asides. Meanwhile the conceit of Hansel having diabetes feels more like a forced plot device than anything substantial. Then again that’s no more uncomfortable than Renner’s performance, with his Hansel feeling less like a womaniser, and more like a tepid, reconditioned version of his Hawkeye. Arteron also struggles with her Gretel despite having a lovely corset but little brassiness in her actual character. Although the screenplay is wise enough to make sure that she not just a sex pot with a crossbow that falls in love, but does little to truly highlight the attentiveness that makes her more emotionally in tune to her surroundings. No matter what Hansel mentions, I just didn't get the feeling.

But Hansel and Gretel isn’t about feelings, it’s about heads a popping. And the claret spills in a frustratingly messy style, doing little to show of the impressive monster design of the villains. The film holds a lot of practical effects, but still feels more like a retread of the early 2000’s. Watching this after a kinetic and pulpy found footage feature like Frankenstein’s Army (2013) is a shame, as this film pales in comparison. Then again the same goes for the films modern trappings that lack a decent subversive quality. The f-bombs and lame quips that litter the film can’t hold up to even the weakest parts of Hanna (2011) with revels in mucking around in the same ballpark with better effect.  But Hansel and Gretel is never completely sure of itself, as a fairy tale throwback, or a twisted genre jolly.  Peter Stromare stars in both this and The Brothers Grimm. He seems to be having more fun in 2005. 

Review: G.I. Joe: Retaliation

Year: 2013

Director: Jon M Chu

Screenplay: Rhett Reese, Paul Wernick

Starring: Dwayne Johnson, Channing Tatum, Adrianne Palicki, Byung-hun Lee

Synopsis is here

What do you get if you mix the Director of a couple of Step Up movies with the writers of Zombieland? You get a tonally awkward and erratically plotted sequel to a silly but entertaining franchise. It’s clear that G.I. Joe Retaliation’s issues are not the complete fault of its writers and director. The film has obviously been tinkered with. The studio had held the film back for re-shoots (involving more Channing Tatum) and there is a longer cut available. That said without Stephen Sommers; Retaliation becomes an extremely po faced exercise which lacks the knowing silliness that Rise of the Cobra featured.    

Retaliation hops from place to place with of real sense of time, while introducing us to a glut of brand new, bland characters not worth writing in depth about. Not that a G.I Joe film is looking for poignancy, however it’s troubling that an actor like Dwayne Johnson has less moments of interest than Marlon Wayans. The reshot scenes that involve Johnson and Tatum are of no real importance. Then again nor is the major city that is destroyed in an instant. Even when Paris went the way of Team America in Rise of Cobra, there was at least a reference to what had took place. Then again it’s hard to argue with a film that feels that a woman dressing down to a bra and panties produces more harm to young minds than the amount of cannon fodder which bit the dust during each limp action sequence.     

It’s bizarre to think why the studio has such disregard for its franchise and it’s fans. Why chuck away half the characters and actors we got to know for little reason? Do people really deserve such forgetful action sequences? Why was the original tone for Rise of Cobra replaced with something more gung ho and hawkish? These questions will never be truly answered and only the most militant of fans will happily paper over the cracks with their own resolutions. I'm glad for them. Others on the other hand may find themselves more than a little confused.

Review: The Bay

Year: 2012

Director: Barry Levinson

Screenplay: Michael Wallach

Starring: Will Rogers, Kristen Connolly, Kether Donohue, Frank Deal, Stephen Nunken, Christopher Denham, Nansi Aluka

Synopsis is here

Look around hard enough and you’ll find critics who greatly admired The Bay. The Guardian’s David Cox wisely considered the feature a horror film for grown-ups. Behind the film’s found footage gimmick is a multifaceted piece which holds an honest focus on characters that more popular counterparts would use awkwardly against a typical, more cumbersome plot. Yet despite this; I found that thoughtful ideas aside, nothing in the film lingers. I appreciate the films intent, but nothing truly tantalises.

One of The Bay’s main problems is that Levinson (a veteran director who’s new to horror) strangely doesn't get to grips with the meat of the piece. An early scene which highlights a river attack (with the footage edited to look like it’s been damaged by water), is cut with such excellent timing that it raised my expectations for any further set pieces.  However such moments are place few and far between, much like the captured fleeting moments we see of a scared 15 year old on face time. The heavily saturated, mass footage slammed together with such a queasy rhythm it creates a beautifully pitched chaotic mosaic. Troubled gazes stare weakly into our own before being contrasted with a pretty mother with baby in tow, beaming broadly into a HD camera. The American flag blows proudly in the background as she and her family have no clue of the carnage that awaits.

But these moments just do not last. What does hang around is the slack jawed lead narration from Kether Donohue who seems uneasy with the large amount of the film she has to carry. Wallach’s script does little to help matters. The narration and dialogue feels forced and stilted and the weaker performers do little to elevate matters. The Bay has the same problem that flustered George A Romero’s Diary of the Dead (2005), with a script that stutters, starts, splutters and spoon feeds it’s more appealing ideas within aesthetic that is often more trouble than it’s worth. Visually The Bay could have benefited from using less of the found footage. The moments I mentioned above get lost inside a flatly captured world that really hurt the atmosphere.        

But of course that’s one of the biggest issues with found footage. It’s already tough to have a crew skilled enough to make something compelling out of footage meant to look like a compiled artefact. The Bay only hits those peaks once or twice. However as we see the found footage style seep into cinema more, the more it’s starting to feel like a crutch.The Bay; unlike more accomplished films of its ilk, has the found footage style feel like more of a distraction than anything. As the film goes on it feels less like a movie and more like a goof. Fear was the last thing on my mind. I found myself wondering if I've seen anyone do something similar with fewer gimmicks and more emphasis on adult terror. The name was Steven Soderbergh, the film was Contagion (2011).

Review: Last Passenger

Year: 2013

Director: Omid Nooshin

Screenplay: Andrew Love, Omid Nooshin, Kas Graham

Starring: Dougray Scott, Kara Tointon, David Schofield, Lindsay Duncan, Joshua Kaynama

Synopsis is here

My review for Last Passenger must be taken with a large pinch of salt. Understand that there is bias here, as the film was worked on by an ex work colleague and friend who is also an unfortunate Tottenham Hotspur fan. I will fully admit this because no matter how open minded and unbiased we claim to be, there are many aspects which, subconsciously or consciously, can dictate our view of a movie. You just have to look at the anonymous keyboard warriors who defend any negative reviews of Batman with death threats (without seeing the movie), or those who will always favour the original foreign movie over the remake etc. At least I’m honest enough to state my connection here, I’d rather you know. I'm only a movie blogger,  so it's not like you had any trust or faith my integrity anyway. Personally, I find it a miracle that a Spurs fan could work on a film. (I’m kidding Spurs fans. There’s a good chance he’ll read this).      

I did say to myself I wouldn't actually do a write up of Last Passenger due to my above statements. However, with this said, that would have been more likely if I didn't enjoy the film. As a piece of genre entertainment, Last Passenger comes through and does the job it’s meant to. Director Omid Nooshin directs a solid and engaging thriller which eschews some of the well worn plot aspects we’re used to. This is done by delivering economic scenes with effective use of reaction shots and chemistry to portray the fear and anxieties of our unfortunate travellers.

It helps that we’re given a solid screenplay. We enjoy these characters as they’re grounded, believable and well observed. The film travels at a brisk pace, yet we still manage to absorb a great amount of detail in each character. Uses of gesture and motif  are well utilised, while the main relationship between father and son works very well, managing to be affectionate without being saccharine.  Because of this the plot doesn't over elaborate the threat, but the stakes are heavily felt. 

The archetypes play well against each other. The weary but kind elderly lady, the uptight, first class seated twit, they club together and clash with a certain amount of weight to proceedings. I will say however that the females (particularly a game Kara Tointon) get a little lost in with all the testosterone being flung around, while the performance from Iddo Goldberg is amusing enough before becoming slightly grating. Still this is a strong cast of characters who solidity the idea that these are ordinary people in an extraordinary situation.

Last Passenger is something we don't get very often; a genre film that not only places its characters first. We care about them as they exasperate any idea they can to escape. While the motivation of the antagonist is the films weakest point, the film doesn't feel stupid and the building of the situation allows us to worry more about what’s in front of us as things become more desperate. Last Passenger clearly has the likes of Duel as an influence but holds a distinct British voice about it that feels authentic and different.

   

Now that you've read what I've written, you can still make up your own mind. You do not need to believe what I've put forth. There's been other films friends have worked on that I really disliked.  But as I said, I'm not too worried about how many feel about my integrity anyway.  The important thing if the film has any. It does.  

Review: Filth

Year: 2013

Director: Jon S. Baird

Screenplay: Jon S. Baird

Starring: James McAvoy, Imogen Poots, Jamie Bell, Eddie Marsden, Joanne Froggart, Jim Broadbent, Shirley Henderson

Synopsis is here

It’s all falling apart. Trumbling inch by inch and you really don’t want to be around when it finally collapses. I’m not talking about Edinburgh where Filth is based. Although the picture director Jon S Baird paints, is no way a pretty one.

No the dilapidation that’s found in Filth resides in the mind of Bruce Robinson; the crafty yet crumbling anti-hero who inhabits this story. The film is Bad Lieutenant by the way of Fight Club, throwing us into the dark psyche of Bruce Robinson, a model cop if he wasn't so cracked. Crooked to the core and holding it together by the skin of his teeth, Robinson is on the case of murdered Japanese student, although Filth isn't interested in the outcome of that, as we are soon to find out. 

A film that’s unapologetic with the dark places it drags us to. I was in no way surprised when a couple walked out early. This is a grubby, sweaty yet darkly comic picture that's lead by a character as ugly as the picture of Dorian Gray. Trust me when I say that if you know and love cheerful chappy James McAvoy as Professor Xavier or the chipper lad from Starter for Ten, then you best leave now.   

McAvoy takes centre frame here, filling the screen with an ogre like ugliness and revelling in it Alex De Large style. The cinematography is so tightly framed around him at times; it doesn’t want you to escape his presence. It's not that Scotland is ugly, but McAvoy's Robinson seems to embraces any and all the horrible problems that haunt our northern neighbours. Racism, greed, sadism, homophobia, and excess, you name it. He embodies all the sociological problems that infect and devolve us. That despite this; he manages to ring out a small amount of pity out of all this sinful revelling, is astonishing. For the most part, Bruce is riding an overpowered rollercoaster of decadence, which is beginning to buckle as he slowly loses control.

If you expect Trainspotting, be warned. Both films may have the same voice, but the energy differs. There are seemingly more flights of fancy, more of an abstract nature and more abrasiveness with the film seeping into something like a horror film as it hurtles towards the films conclusion. But that's what Irvine Welsh’s source material seems to be good at, with Barid as writer/director tailoring the film to balance the rot with just enough pathos to stop you from becoming fully submerged in the quagmire. That said, as the film shifts from dark comedy to drama the film does start to stumble. Not very scene hits it's mark emotionally and it's clear some cinematic alterations almost softens the blow too much and the film almost loses it's bite at the end. But Filth keeps its eyes on the prize and stays on track remaining a darker than dark yet somewhat entertaining look at sin in the modern age.

Review: Blue Jasmine

Year: 2013

Director: Woody Allen

Screenplay: Woody Allen

Starring: Cate Blanchett, Sally Hawkins, Bobby Cannavale, Andrew Dice Clay, Peter Sarsgaard, Michael Stuhlbarg, Louis C.K.

Synopsis is here

The annual Woody Allen feature comes to us with a performance so strong it beggars belief. I don’t care for awards season, but for those out there who have stumbled upon this tiny blog who hold interest I will say this: Cate Blanchett should have 2013’s best actress all wrapped up. If someone else wins over Blanchett then I must congratulate them, as they've toppled a performance of some magnitude.

Blanchett’s Jasmine is a hurricane of destruction and delusion it is difficult look away from. It’s always exciting to someone take a film by the scuff of the neck and dictate things like a conductor. However I found Blanchett to be so strong, that even the other solid displays felt dwarfed.  Allen brings together a multi-faceted cast that engages well with the material. But Blanchett, she just blows them away.       

Blue Jasmine at heart is a tale about someone who can be happy with a little and someone who despairs despite once having a lot. Self absorbed and pretentious; Jasmine is a difficult character to feel for. Told in flashback, we find that Jasmine is held together by the riches of her husband.  Everything is about stature and branding. We notice she changed her name due to money. She looks down her nose at her sister and fiancé with the kind of condensation you only ever find from those who are far too privileged for their own good. There’s insidiousness in the way Jasmine feels the need to tell her sister that she can do better. At no point do we feel that what is said is done for the good of anything other than Jasmine’s self satisfaction. Little bothers her, because material keeps her warm at night. We also think it keeps her oblivious to important matters at hand.

When we find Jasmine in the present and uncover the reasons of why she’s visiting her sister, we notice just how fragile her ignorance and finance have made her. Jasmine is a fractured creature that would get on well with Penelope Cruz’s Maria, whose emotional imbalance heightened the tone of Allen’s Vicky Christina Barcelona. However while that film joyfully played with Latin melodrama, here we only have spite to comfort us.

As the film plays on, Blanchett’s pained performance breaks through so much of the films other segments. Blanchett switches from distant to destructive to switched on in a blink of an eye, and cuts through much of the humour (the support is engaging yet cartoony in characterisation) that tries to diffuse the drama. As the film continues on, we notice just how troubled Jasmine has become. I struggled with the films humour unlike the snorting and snarky audience I watched it with, who had no trouble. Jasmine isn’t pleasant, but it’s hard not to find pathos as Jasmine becomes more unhinged.

That said, Allen’s poor people are doing A-ok while rich people pay for their sins comes across a little false. Despite Allen’s provocative use of form (Jasmine is often bathed in golden hues, or blocked out of focus during certain plot turns ), he never takes his idea as far as he can. We have a conceit in which the high class wives of the financial elite have just as much to hide has their criminal husbands. Allen places a cynical turn on the phase “behind every good man is a good woman” but does little to convince us of his conviction. This loose, modern day telling of A Streetcar named desire squarely lands us amidst the spectre of the economic crash, but fizzles out without wanting to take a good clean stab at the issue. It’s too bad, as Blanchett is more than willing to make the effort.