Review: Bleeding Love

Year: 2023

Director: Emma Westenberg

Screenplay: Ruby Caster, Clara McGregor and Vera Bulder

Starring: Clara McGregor, Ewan McGregor

Synopsis is here

 

Bleeding Love opens with something that’s become a familiar pattern in today’s fractured media landscape. Like many independent features of its kind, the film begins with a multitude of different film production idents. Most of them are unheard of. Such openings have become a clear example of how difficult it is to get certain movies off the ground. It certainly makes this production feel more determined.

Ironically, the dogged nature of the barrage of production labels feels correct for Bleeding Love. It is a film about drug addiction and estranged family ties. To gain a solid footing on such themes in real life tenacity is often a key component. For lead actress Clara McGregor, who also has producer, story and singer credits on the film, it’s clear that she's dying to say something in this film. And is looking for as many ways to express that.

It possibly helps that having a famous father helps. Clara co-stars alongside her dad Ewan in this good-natured and well-intentioned tale of a father who is covertly taking his daughter to rehab hours after she’s overdosed. Their fractious relationship gets quickly established in the film's opening scene where Clara’s daughter character asks her dad to pull over on the roadside so she can relive herself. It’s an excuse to flee as the girl sprints off with her father struggling to keep the pace. It’s a funny moment. Bleeding Love effectively sets up the relationship between the couple and the tone finds its footing quickly.

There’s some intriguing stuff to chew on here. Ewan McGregor is well known for his breakthrough role as Scottish heroin addict Renton in the 90s’ phenomenon Trainspotting (1996). There is a dry sense of humour in seeing McGregor come full circle. His features are now only slightly gone to seed. He finds himself in the role of a father who feels he knows better. In Bleeding Love, his role as dad comes with a keen knowledge of where substance abuse can take you. In this story, it soon becomes apparent that this parental figure has had his share of demons but is trying his best to steer that around. This road trip with his daughter becomes a chance for him to bury some of his skeletons while keeping his daughter from creating her own.

Clara McGregor as the unnamed daughter has some entertaining moments throughout the film. Her substance-addicted character is not too overzealous. However, she is perhaps too fresh-faced and striking to seem as in trouble as the film suggests. The chemistry between father and daughter is solid enough. They bounce off each other as one would expect from real-life family members.

But while both McGregors are appealing to watch, the film never gains the emotional tug that would alleviate it above anything seen before. Director Emma Westenberg is confident in terms of form. Her use of wide-angle lenses to portray flashback scenes and drug use is well utilised, and the pop aesthetic and moments of humour are enjoyable. It’s also welcoming that many women occupy roles behind the camera to produce a film that appears different from what could have been expected.  But despite Bleeding Love’s focus on its father-daughter relationship and small flights of fancy, the film is often too safe to linger in the mind for very long.  

Bleeding Love is available on Digital Platforms from 22nd July 2024

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Review: T2 Trainspotting

Year: 2017
Director: Danny Boyle
Screenplay: John Hodges
Starring: Ewan McGregor, Ewen Bremner, Jonny Lee Miller, Robert Carlyle

Synopsis is here:

The 90’s seem so very far away now. Talking to some people I know, it’s ancient history. Time makes fools of us all, and trying to explain dial up internet, Ibiza Uncovered and Gazza’s goal at Euro 96 to younger generation millennials will no doubt leave some us feeling foolish. The same could almost be said for Trainspotting. When first released in 1996, the film was a cultural phenomenon. For us Brits, it was as iconic to the 90’s as Britpop and bleached blonde hair. If you didn’t know that Irvine Welsh’s series of vignettes was a novel, you certainly knew it was a movie. Shallow Grave (1994) introduced us to Ewan McGregor and Danny Boyle, but it was Trainspotting that truly broke them out. From the thumping drum of Iggy Pop’s Lust for Life which launches the film, it’s uniquely comic yet bleak portrayal of junk addiction, to the simple yet brash mugshot poster, everything about the film screamed iconic.

20 years after Boyle introduced us to “perfect day” overdoses on skag, we are reintroduced to Mark Renton and his so-called friends in a film which isn’t really aiming for the same never say die exuberance that infiltrated our hearts. Why would it? Danny Boyle, one Britain’s more idiosyncratic directorial exports, is quick to let us know that two decades have really slapped these guys in the face. So much so, that even the consideration of playing Lust of Life pains the listener. Of course, this is not about the loudness of the track, but more the memories it digs up. We re-encounter Renton hit with physical health problems, but, like all his mates, he is haunted by his moment of betrayal which in turn left his friends in the gutter.

Instead of revelling in golden-hued nostalgia, T2 works best when its characters are reminded that their past is rife with sin. Trainspotting was drenched in a youthful nihilism which motivated every character, T2 has Renton and co look deep within themselves with a deep sense of regret. The film’s poignancy lies within what the characters have thrown away in the last twenty years. There’s no doe eye back slapping at the heady days of their youth. These people hurt each other and it shows. We like to think that such deep old wounds will heal over fine. They don’t. There’s always scar tissue.
T2 is pretty much what a life of toxic masculinity can get you. Whether it’s Begbie’s resentment towards his son, despite not being in his life, to the fractious relationship between old “pals” Simon (Sick Boy) and Renton. Boyle accurately details the dissipation of youthful energy within the angry young man. Danny Boyle’s Trainspotting was originally released around the same time as Chuck Palahniuk’s novel Fight Club (now well known as a 1999 film), and both Boyle’s film and Palahniuk’s book do a remarkable job of showcasing one of the main issues of the so-called 90’s man: that they had very little to rebel against. Therefore, they turned amongst themselves. T2 has Boyle explore what would happen if these Scottish roustabouts tried to salvage some of the remnants of themselves, and each other, after the damage is done.

This is all done with the smoothness you expect from a director like Boyle, who decides early on that while he and screenwriter Hodge may be able to give us anything exemplary from a narrative perspective, he’ll certainly work hard with Anthony Dod Mantle to ensure that visually the film will retain interest. The askew compositions, metaphors and visual motifs to Irvine Welsh’s own novelistic off shoots, are never indulgent and playfully highlight the cock-eyed viewpoints of our Scottish antiheroes.

It’s little surprise however, that much like the original film, T2 is quite top heavy. While the scams that are pulled off here don’t feel as rambunctious as before, they still show that wickedness doesn’t rest easy, even as our protags stumble into middle age. Like its predecessor, T2 loses a little bit of shine as it dives into the final third. The plot descends into something rather mechanical and uninspiring, while certain character decisions feel rather unconvincing.  When T2 focuses on dubious antics, it excels. When it becomes bogged down in actual plot, it stagnates. This doesn’t stop the cast from giving it their all. Both Mcgregor and Miller slip back into the groove easily. As does Robert Carlyle whose Begbie still excites in spite of the film spending a bit too much time with him. The film’s secret weapon however, is Ewen Bremmer, who’s role as the dopey Spud fully establishes him as the film’s emotional core. Unlike the previous film, Bremmer’s role is more fleshed out, giving T2 something Trainspotting never had and was never really looking for: Heart.

That’s never been the reason to watch Trainspotting though. It’s always been the scams and shenanigans. That’s what the audience is here for. Dodgy plot be dammed. Whether it’s robbing Unionists of their credit cards, or some dubious blue pill action, the bleak lolz are there for the taking. T2 Trainspotting gleefully obliges.

Review: Inherent Vice

Year: 2014 (U.K Release 2015)
Director: Paul Thomas Anderson
Screenplay: Paul Thomas Anderson
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Josh Brolin, Owen Wilson, Katherine Waterston, Reese Witherspoon, Benicio del Toro, Jena Malone, Joanna Newsom, and Martin Short.

Synopsis is here:

I don’t know where to start or what to say. Inherent Vice; Paul Thomas Anderson’s seventh feature film, is scuzzy, meandering and near meaningless. It’s a shaggy dog story, which is even less accessible than Anderson’s previous film; The Master (2012), which had many screaming in maddening frustration. I say this as if I had an issue with the film. I write those words as if I had hated my time I spent with Doc Sportello and the gang of misfits we’re introduced to.

I didn’t hate Inherent Vice. If anything I may have already found my first favourite film of the year. By the time Vice had its final credit run up the screen. I had myself having to convince myself that I didn’t have the time to watch the film again. I went to the nearest retail store and brought the soundtrack instead, to tide me over until I have the space in my schedule to for some more cinema time, or even worse, wait until the Blu-ray. I just wanted to spend more time in this world, with these characters immediately. I loved the film that much.

If anyone was going to create a rambling, blissed filled homage to the noirs of old, it had to be Anderson. Inherent Vice maybe an adaptation of Thomas Pynchon’s equally as wandering novel, but it’s also another chance for Anderson to let his shoulders droop, reference his favourite influences and get a little loose after two of his most austere features to date.

It may be a cop out to say this, but Inherent Vice is a film about mood and character rather than story. It's a film dictated by its time and location as opposed to anything else. A world of mumble mouthed hippies, jive talkers and dopers, whose time is spent stumbling around looking for what they've lost. Plot flitters into view and yet remains out of reach. Red herrings swerve manically into view, taking time to roll up some grass and talk about nothing. This is a vacuum left by the death of the swinging sixties. The revolution lost by the dreamers and won by the squares. It’s a tad silly to try and pinpoint the logic of these people and the shaggy dog tangents they cook up. Spend enough time with these guys and you release: “What makes sense to these guys?”

“We blew it” was the hotly contested line of 1969’s Easy Rider. Often considered as a remark that hints at the end of the counterculture lifestyle enjoyed by Billy and Wyatt. Vice often feels like we’re watching the walking dead of that culture, looking to soak up any remnants that may exist. Doc (yet another superlative Joaquin Phoenix performance) appears to be taking case after case to fuel his drug habit more than anything else. Yet the real drive of the story is the disappearance of his girlfriend Stasta, who originally sets him on his merry way of missing real estate developer, shady crime syndicates and new age cultism. Each “case” shows at least one aspect of how the hippie culture slowly began to eat itself. As does the recurring talk of Charles Mansion, whose crimes linger in the air like a sour stench. Once Stasta disappears, we nearly only ever see her again in hazy flashback and drifting transitions, almost as if she was a dream and that as an actual entirety, never really existed.

Younger, alleged film writers like myself can only really dream of this era, but the way Anderson and cinematographer Robert Elswit capture the sun kissed beaches, creepy upscale asylums and run down brothels is so remarkably textured and authentic that it makes a strong impression. Yet despite its lazy, slightly woozy surroundings, a strong element of farce and slapstick often pervades and punctuates scenes. Much Like Elliott Gould in Robert Altman’s The Long Goodbye (1973), Doc is a private eye whose street smarts give him high cultural currency, yet his cluelessness about just how the strings of his cases are being pulled, allowing a large amount of comedy at his expense. For a film which is often at times highly melancholic, in a genre that was always considered to be grim, it’s refreshing to see just how often Anderson (a big SNL fan) goes for hard laughs.  Gleefully aiming at the sheer preposterous of it all.

Despite the talk of the film’s murky and multiple plot lines, I found the main intentions of the film to be abundantly clear (in my eyes). Of course, while the actual message of the film lie within the eye of the beholder, I feel it’s safe to say Inherent Vice is a wistful film about loss. Every character is found wanting and chasing for something that either no longer open to them or disappearing in front of their eyes. Like all of Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest period of films, Inherent Vice has its director peering into both the deaths and beginnings of eras and revolutions and observing the fallout through their failed relationships. Vice is not only is the most nostalgic of Anderson’s recent endeavours, amusingly harking back to the heady days of Boogie Nights (1997). Looking at Vice with all its exasperated plot strands, paranoid theories and generally warming glances back at nostalgia, manages to help establish Anderson as one of the most entertaining chroniclers of modern American history currently working.

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: Side Effects

Year: 2013
Director: Steven Soderbergh
Screenplay: Scott Z Burns
Starring: Jude Law, Rooney Mara, Channing Tatum, Catherine Zeta Jones

Synopsis is here

If the rumours are true (and the interviews point towards yes), it seems that Side Effects will be Steven Soderbergh's final theatrical feature. Threatened once before but now looking much more definite, the announcement is an intriguing one. At age 50; the chameleon-like director still looked like he had a lot more in him. This said, the film maker has stated he is tired of the format and would rather spend his time painting.

This is not necessarily a bad thing. A television interview on CBS with Quentin Tarantino had the motor mouth director mention his worry of becoming "out of touch" as he got older. Some could say that he may have a point. There's nothing wrong with going out on a high, and while others may draw attention to some elder statesmen who have placed some decent turns in their career "twilights". I doubt many would pick those later films over the likes of Taxi Driver, Manhattan, One Flew over the Cukoo's Nest, M.A.S.H and the list goes on.

So Soderbergh has decided to end the career here. Not with a bombastic, mega multi dollar showcase (imagine Ocean's 14), but with a tightly controlled psycho thriller which highlights not only the assured direction of the director, but the themes that have followed him throughout an industrious career. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who noticed that a few of the films revelations rely on sex, lies and videotape.

Sharply placed against the backdrop of big pharmacy and insider trading, Sodenbergh carefully blends topical issues to create near plausible horrors. Before the outrageous mechanics of the final third take hold, we are exposed a nightmare of dubious after effects, presumed wrong doings and shady double takes. Framed in a dreamy soft focused haze, nearly every shot in Side Effects (Sodenbergh lenses' the film under the name Peter Andrews) layers a tinge of self doubt within a viewer. You notice that much like a drug addled mind, the world around these characters are blurred and obscured. Sometimes only the character is in focus. Yet even so, their words bring no clarity. 

Soderbergh's tricky thriller does much to prime us correctly so even the films more lurid moments later on have a feeling of plausibility. This has much to do with the films two leads as well as its smart direction and scripting. Jude Law hasn't been this watchable for years, getting the subtle ruthlessness of his character down to a tee. Yes, he comes to the aid of an ill woman, but like a Coen's movie, notice just how quickly he's willing to snap at the dangling carrot. Rooney Mara is even better. Showing her display in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo wasn't a fluke, she acing every scene with the ability to managing to be scared and scare at the same time.

Whether or not Soderbergh leaves the cinematic world, he has undoubtedly made a sizable dent in it. Side Effects shows the work of a craftsman: assured, accomplished and solidly built. He could be tired of the format; he could hold the same fears as Quentin. Either way his swan song makes sure he goes out flying. 

Review: Limitless

Year: 2011
Director: Neil Burger
Screenplay: Leslie Dixon
Starring: Bradley Cooper, Abby Cornish, Robert Di Niro

Synopsis is here:

Limitless s about forward momentum and has enough drive to it that I didn't worry about those silly questions that could have tripped a different film up. It it also coming from a focal point of a narrator who spends most of his story on drugs, so when you ask yourself "how did that pill get there?" the film calmly states "you shouldn't be worrying too much about that lets see what happens next". Energy is key to the movie (hell even one of the characters deals in it) and Limitless has more than enough for the ride it's taking you on.

Limitless is a pulpy film which zips along due to two reasons; one you have a charismatic front man in Bradley Cooper who is showing off his range well and two, director Neil Burger and his crew bring a certain amount of visual flair to the film while keeping enough track on the story. Some elements aren't the best (Coopers constant narration of the story is at times unneeded) but the films hustle gets it through. Washed out city streets wrap into to bright colourful places with a swallow of a pill. Visual tics which could easily remind one of Darren Anofsky's Requiem for a Dream are used here, not to overwhelm the film but to enhance the pill popping nature of whole situation.

This is combined with Bradley Cooper, who is on top form here. The slick back hair and the slightly smug smile is heightened by the fact that Cooper walks the walk very well. It's no surprise the film delves into stocks and shares because Cooper's performance is one of a coked up broker. While he may not have that Gecko aggression (we still have to side with him), Coopers performance is best when the pill up's his confidence. It's a swagger that we've seen parts of in The Hangover and The A-Team but it's in full force here and great fun to watch.

An interesting factor for me is that as much of this film is just a mainstream thriller (and one that enjoys the execution of it's conventions) but there appears to be an interesting side note on America and it's taking of drugs as a whole. Not lest the fact that the pills effects make it a natural side-kick for wall street and that the drug and some of it's side-effects had me thinking to myself "Extreme Ritalin?" And yes, drug itself is a fictional beast and also illegal in it's universe, but there's a cynical nature to the films last moments that does enough to tickle the brain somewhat. The film main climax almost betrays this with a climax that's a bit neat. But the film manages to pull itself back somewhat with a nice amount of ambiguity. 

Limitless is enjoyable, fast paced ride with a charismatic leading actor and a solid supporting cast to go with him. It may not have the comeback performance that many are expecting from Bobby Di Niro (to be honest he's fine here), but its visuals, solid storytelling and breeziness of it all make it a fun watch.

Review: Mr Nice

Year: 2010
Director: Bernard Rose
Screenplay: Bernard Rose
Starring: Rhys Ifans, Chole Sevigny, David Thewlis, Crispin Glover, Omid Djalili, Christian McKay

This should have been a given to me. A British film, written and directed by a director I admire, with a cast I like. The trailer looked fun, and it was about an interesting man in Howard Marks how could I lose?

Well you can lose if you expect something more than what Mr Nice is, which is quite a bog standard biopic with a lead character who is kept at quite a remarkable distance. There are intermittent moments of humor and the performances are watchable. However, for me, I found it strange to how boring the everything is.

The problem for me is Rose, a director whose films have always had a wonderful uniqueness and presence, tries nothing too abstract here. The film follows the typical rise and falls of the biopic at a lethargic pace with a character that is hard to root for. Not because he peddles drugs, that not a problem with a film like this, it's more the fact that it's hard to warm to the Marks character in anyway.

The film is all so matter of fact, with no real quirks in style other than an odd placement of these modern characters into old style movie. This unfortunately sticks out like a sore thumb and once again keeps us at an arms length, unlike recent biopics (Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll, Bronson) which use their style to create effect to create a visual mindscape that helps gain a better grip of the character. Here, it's the slow lulling tones of Rhys Ifans' narration that try and warm the audience. Unfortunately, it's far too assuming to really enjoy. 

Like I said, there are good performances within the film.  David Thewlis, Crispin Glover, Omid Djalili, Christian McKay make the most out of their flat caricatures and while Chole Sevigny struggles with the London accent she still remains an engaging presence. Rhys Ifans was clearly born for a role like this and fits into it snugly.

The problem is that there's really nothing that make you need to watch this film. It's competently made (it IS Rose) but when the film wants to talk about things such as drug legalization or the curious fact that a man from a tiny mining town in Wales becomes FBI's most wanted criminal, there are other films that have more interesting things to say.

Review: Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll

Year: 2010
Director: Mat Whitecross
Screenplay: Paul Viragh
Starring: Andy Serkis, Naomie Harris, Olivia Williams, Ray Winstone

Plot Synopsis is here


Despite not being a massive fan of Ian Dury (no dislike, just haven't heard enough of his music), I strangely remember the first time I heard hit me with your rhythm stick in it's entirety and when the man died (both on the radio inside my fathers car). There are other artists I've admired that have died, and yet I cannot place myself when I heard the news. I guess there was something about this guy, something truly unique.

Mat Whitecross' colourful biopic enforces my feelings of this man. Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll (which I will call SDRR for short) is a chaotic and kinetic film which felt like a combination of Bronson and 24 Hour Party People. It suffers from the usual rise and fall elements of the musical biopic particularly within the films last act. But before that you have a dense and well told story of a man who learns from the very start that no matter what the stakes (Dury was stricken with Polio in his years which left him near paralyzed down his left side), a man must stand up for himself and forge his own way in life if he wants to go anywhere.

The film sets itself up nicely with one of it's first lines of dialogue: "don't let the truth get in the way of a good story". Once those lines are uttered, then the film is given poetic license to play a little loose with the man's life. Accuracy is secondary to enjoyment and for the most part, it works exceedingly well.

Whitecross structure certains scenes in such a way that they may not have happened at the said time as one another, but they heighten the emotions within the film. Also considering this is a musical biopic, Whitecross restrains from making the same mistakes that U.S biopics make; punctuating every high or low point with one the artists songs that sums everything thing up with a faux neatness. Keeping focus on the story at hand, the direction manages to get right under the characters skin. As does the the films script (By Paul Viragh), which is personal, plot heavy (in a good way) and full of cleverly crafted dialogue. The kind that reminds us of how well Dury placed words together. Many craftier cinephiles may complain that the film isn't the "collage" that Serkis mentioned on the radio 5 Kermode Film podcast earlier this year, and runs on rails in terms of overall structure but compared to other biopics, I doubt they have has much energy as shown here.

Direction and writing aside, the film is lead by a cocksure and mesmerizing performance by Andy Serkis; a criminally overlooked actor who once again shows his range with a dead on performance of Dury. It's one of those whirlwind turns, that can sweep a viewer up with it's feverish intensity. Serkis completes the mixture of performer, screenplay and direction to give us a character who is fully formed and complicated. It's just as easy to dislike this character as it is to fall for his charisma and although the film follows the formula often, the films last moments to feel like a cheap vindication. Your left with a portrait of a man who could equally hurt as hard as he could entertain. Compere this to the glossed over moments that inhabit solid, yet flawed movies such as Ray and you realize how easily the glitz can distract.

I should mention more about the films supporting cast, but I won't in case of boring you with my praise for all involved. What I will say to finish up is that SDRR is exactly what I want from a musical biopic. Kudos is deserved for all involved and recommended for all with a love of music and film.

Hear me rave about this at Cinematic Dramatic Podcast at Geek Planet Online