Review: Carol

Year: 2015

Director Todd Haynes

Screenplay: Phyllis Nagy

Starring: Cate Blanchett, Rooney Mara, Kyle Chandler 

Synopsis is here:

After watching Carol, I gave myself a day or two to let the film linger.  It’s a film that likes to settle within the recesses of the mind. Its story is deceptively simple at the surface, yet the emotional connections run deep throughout. Much has already been said about the film main relationship between the elegant Carol (Cate Blanchett at her most graceful) and Therese (Rooney Mara captures doe eyed innocence in a bottle). However, director Todd Haynes’ command of the plot and its characters is so robust that I had felt involved with even the secondary characters. There’s a texture in the film that runs deeper than the luxurious fashions on display. 

While conversing with a friend, she mentioned that her mother found such a connection to be lacking. I wonder if this is due to Carol’s sexual orientation. I don’t say this as a negative. Far from it. The beauty of Carol with its subtle glances and sly smiles is just how often it pushes its heterosexual characters to the side. This must be by design. To show that while many within the film may not understand the connections taking place, they are still not things to be judged. Carol isn’t a queer text about gay rights or equality per say, but it does seem to suggest that roses growing out of the concrete needn’t be plucked. A less pretentious (and clearer) interpretation would be to say that this is a struggle for these two individuals rather than a universal one.  

Haynes' depiction of this blossoming relationship and their yearning is dutiful and precise. Once the roots are planted, the branches get tangled with everyone. The ever dependable Kyle Chandler’s heart bleeds as Harge; the heterosexual husband who struggles to grasp this new reality through anger and his own needs. A brief moments from old flame Abby (a wonderfully understated Sarah Paulson) hints not only at understanding, but heartache. Smaller supporting roles also excel. Never sounding like soundboards of a previous era, or knowing totems of this one. Haynes has entertained with this era before for his beautiful melodrama pastiche Far from Heaven (2002), but this seems far from the more broadly drawn and colourful characters from his previous venture. For me, Carol often reminded me of the isolated characters who feature in the painting by Edward Hopper. It’s doubtful that Hopper is an influence, yet Haynes’ direction and blocking of characters along with cinematographer Edward Lachman’s framing, makes nearly every person we meet feel like Hopper’s figures. Almost consumed by the industrial world around them.

It’s no surprise that when the films action shifts from city to country, the characters seem to feel less suffocated by their surroundings and in turn, their societal trappings. Carol’s beauty lies in its small subtleties. Trying on new fragrances. A quiet drive with someone you admire. The small token gesture of a gift, or an admiration of talent. These moments can seem so typical of a romantic drama. However, the softness and slightly alien aspect of an all-female romance within such a bygone era and the shifts of tensions within the relationship dynamics makes Carol stand apart from more universal films of a similar nature. Looking back at the film’s final outcome, the final moments are both heartening and fretful. There’s elements of rejection we ignore due to what we observe on the screen. Even at that moment the film’s closure lays a shade of ambiguity that a more universal romance could perhaps ignore for surface pleasures. I found that the excellence of Carol lies in its ability to sow such seeds. It’s only after leaving the screen did the film’s deeper resonances strike me. For that I am thankful. 

Review: Spectre

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

Synopsis is here:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Review: Straight Outta Compton

Year: 2015

Director: F. Gary Gray

Screenplay: Jonathan Herman, Andrea Berloff

Starring:O'Shea Jackson, Jr, Corey Hawkins, Jason Mitchell, Paul Giamatti

Synopsis is here:

Telegraph Film Critic Robbie Collins; amusingly tweeted the environment of the press screening of Straight Outta Compton in which critics were treated to Eggs Benedict (seriously). A later tweet hilariously likened the screening audience to Seinfield's apartment; very white bread. It’s easy to dread to think about what views were flying around. Often when heading to some screenings I gain a sense of faux progression. It’s hard to shake off the sneaking suspicion that everyone is going to clutch on to their valuables if I sit too close to them. I mean, let’s be fair, I'm usually wearing a hoodie.

Such things are of invested importance when watching a film like Straight Outta Compton, which, while holds a closer relationship with the glossy, Sean "Puffy" Coombes produced biopic Notorious (2009), actually holds underpinnings of John Singleton's Boyz in da Hood (1991). The Ice Cube and West Coast connection are certainly not the only elements that bind those films.

A muscular and accomplished piece of storytelling, F Gary Gray's Straight Outta Compton explodes right out of the blocks with the kind of drug dealing sequence that wouldn't feel out of sorts if placed in the Hughes Brothers' debut Menace 2 Society (1993). What follows afterwards is a sprawling, textured history of one of the most influential bands of the genre of hip-hop; N.W.A. Compton follows the tropes of a typical rock biopic in terms of structure, but the weight and the relevant tone of its subjects elevate the film to a particular level. This cinematic rendering of one of rap's biggest super groups has been considered the "Black Avengers". This is a strange term which tries to mould the film within recent comic book adaptations. Such a description comes off more like a trendy term trying to attach a certain type of relevance, although the film often captures the fantastic aspects of the group's meteoric rise from underprivileged and oppressed youths to millionaire rap stars.

This is a rap version of the rock bio that plays out in board strokes with its producers (who are also the subjects of the film) are clearly mythologizing themselves in a light which draws them into a far more sensitive light. However, it's important to realise what the film's intentions are. Much has been said about the exclusion of the Dee Barnes' violent altercation with Dr Dre from the film, which was originally scripted. In fact the films entire reading of women is best described as "problematic".  In this film of young, flawed, disfranchised black male youths, the treatment of women within the frame is discouraging. Representation ranges from objectionable to confounding. Some sequences put the antics and debauchery of Entourage to shame. Meanwhile, long-term relationships with girlfriends/wives seemingly appear from nowhere, before being relegated to the background.

Yet while many of these criticisms should not be dismissed, the essence of the text must remain. While SOC depictions of women are insensitive, they could also be a strong observational representation of a group of angry, naive yet talented individuals. Condoning the actions is of course incorrect, but while it's reassessment of topical themes are important (we are looking at an 80's/90's story with 2015 eyes), the idea of reshaping elements to allow kinder gender politics may feel disingenuous here. Particularly to a rap group whose lyrics towards women were outwardly aggressive. That said, Compton does drop the ball somewhat by over smoothing the flaws of its protagonists to such a point that it lessens the complexities of the real life counterparts. Especially when we place Gray's position with the group during the time in which the NWA was active.  Easy E's promiscuous activities and Dr Dre's hostility towards women are only briefly glimpsed, if shown at all. Even in glossy biopics like Ray (2004) and Get on Up (2014) highlight the fractured relationships towards women that occurred, configuring their respective artists into tragic, flawed geniuses.

We must be reminded however that Straight Outta Compton is still a triumph of black male representation. This is an inversion of the brutal and fictionalised realities displayed by John Singleton and The Hughes Brothers. Updated with hopeful inflections and framed for audiences more interested in Hip-Hop than old style RnB/soul/funk. This is not only because the many subjects are still alive and still hold a level of relevancy and popularity, but also due to the film highlighting pathways that were only just hinted in the 90's and near dismissed within the universes displayed in the fictional urban movies of the past. Could we image poor, black L.A youths becoming billionaires? The fact is stranger than fiction, and the fiction needed to stay grounded.

From a directional point of view, this is Gray's boldest film, working closely with cinematographer Matthew Libatique, and providing striking and kinetic imagery to the story. Visually, the sheer scope of this film is impressive. The infamous "Bye Felica" sequence, which details the wild touring antics of the NWA, while controversial at its heart, holds choreography rarely even considered for a biopic such as this, let alone conceived. Libatique's usage of the 2.35: 1 ratio not only enhances the sheer scale of the concerts and the groups influence, but also help display the magnitude of the Watts riots the infiltrates the films second half. While the riots themselves only come across as a surface level framework for the film, it highlights the ambition that Gray is trying to achieve. Whereas Notorious remains focused on the subject of Biggie Smalls, Straight Outta Compton tries hard to place the group within a larger context. With the film reaching to pinpoint the growing tensions that still remain and still polarize America.

Credit must go to Grey's eye for detail, stemming from Eazy E receiving his shoelaces back from the cops after being arrested, to the diegetic music changes which occur after 1993. The subtle shift across states, may mean nothing to those not interested in hip-hop, but remind fans of the changing tones which happened at the time. There's also textual richness in casting which is highly notable, with many of the cast (both leading and support) being exceptional in not only their looks, but their mannerisms. This is the first time that the three leads have been given a chance to head up a production and all three are allowed to let their charisma flourish. Jason Mitchell and O'Shea Jackson Jr are the two standouts. Mitchell provides a depth to Eazy E's persona which allows the character to be more than just a pair of sunglasses and a high pitched rap voice. O'Shea's look and demeanor are so much like his fathers (Ice Cube), it's uncanny. Corey Hawkins is the weakest of the trio, but this isn't down to talent, but down to character. Hawkins' Dre is the most passive of the protagonists, which once again speaks towards what may have been left on the cutting room floor or script stage.

As mentioned by Scott Mendleson, Straight Outta Compton is the most unsurprising surprise hit of the year. Take away the fact that this is a story of a platinum selling music group, whose members have diversified into other arenas. Forget about the influence of the genre of music. Compton uses the tropes of the musical biopic and uses them exceedingly well. The fact that it continued to remain in its number one spot at the box office after the opening weekend, proudly shows its strong of word of mouth. Compton doesn't just raise the bar for the Rap biopic; it highlights just how universal and populist hip-hop stories can be. Hopefully its success may help stick a pin in the "urban movies for urban people" myth. What makes Compton illuminating isn't just the energy of its soundtrack or the knowing cameos, it's that the film takes hold of its story and tells it as boldly as it can. Something that critics of middle England and hoodie wearing rap fans like myself, can all agree, needs to be done when it comes to the movies.

Review: Entourage: The Movie

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

Synopsis is here

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DVD Review: The Devil’s Violinist

Year: 2013 (UK DVD release: 2015)

Director: Bernard Rose

Screenplay: Bernard Rose

Starring: David Garrett, Jared Harris

Synopsis is here:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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: 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.

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: Chef

Year: 2014
Director: Jon Favreau
Screenplay: Jon Favreau
Starring: Robert Downey, Jr., Scarlett Johansson, Sofía Vergara, Dustin Hoffman, Oliver Platt, John Leguizamo

Synopsis is here

When I worked at a multiplex, a peculiar thing happened during the release of the first Fast & Furious film. The moment all the track suit decked, boy racing audience left the cinema, a distinct rev of engines could be heard, while the smell of burnt tires filled the air. We were always surprised that we didn't witness any accidents. The Fast and The Furious is not high art, but the effect on its core audience appeared more profound than many of the more obscure, artier features I frequent. Now, after watching Jon Favreau's Chef. I found myself producing this calorie drenched monstrosity at 11pm at night:

Returning to the type of stripped down affair Favreau was known for before blowing up big in Hollywood, Chef presents itself as the little film that could. The film wants to earnestly touch upon the role of the artist, but it's obvious that things have changed for Favreau since Swingers. The subject of food is easily substituted for film as Favreau casts himself as a Chef who finds himself critically and creatively stifled. It's not only clear to see where Favreau is heading with his lead character's arc (filmed off the back of Iron Man 2), but with his cast too. It's a smart touch to cast Dustin Hoffman as a restaurant owner (read Producer) whose stumps up the money for his chef but has no time for the distraction of a diverse menu. Having Hoffman, who came to prominence during the director led New Hollywood era, as a blinkered bean counter of the establishment, hints at a subversive bite. No blood is drawn from the chewing, however, as Favreau can now slap Dustin Hoffman into his movie.

Chef does spend some of its time balancing precariously between a film about an artist being an artist and not wanting to be too damning about its real subject. While its notes on criticism and how it affects a person's work and family life are much more mature than Lady in the Water (2006), it doesn't beat the deft commentary delivered by Pixar's Ratatouille (2007). This doesn't mean that Chef isn't being honest with itself, despite needlessly shoving Robert Downley Jr and Scarlet Johansson into roles due to being work colleagues with the director.

The fact is, to expect Favreau to merely distill every aspect of his filmmaking to a late 90's indie, is naïve. Scarlet Johansson and Sofía Vergara are somewhat smugly cast as love interests for the now more portly Favreau (still a genuinely likable screen presence), but this was the slubby actor who had himself swing dancing with Heather Graham in a script he had written. The film's outward narrative tension isn't particularly strong, yet like Swingers (1996), a film about a man looking inside himself once more to get back on the horse, Chef works because the characters have such an affectionate and easy going sense of charm, that they're hard not to like. It's interesting to see that in terms of structure, humour and general sensibility, when the budget drops, Favreau hasn't really changed, despite some thematic flaws. What he delivers is a light and enjoyable comedy with wholesome characters and a cast that's game. Yes, it's a thinly veiled chance to show off a catchy soundtrack and gorgeous street food (Favreau refitted his kitchen after filming), but Chef at its heart of hearts is a sincere attempt to leave you feeling fuzzy. Chef doesn't have the barbs to put it on the level with the likes of The Player (1992), but there was enough in there to make me bring out the pots and pans and indulge in a little passion.