'Kill List' Podcast with Ben Wheatley

'Kill List' and 'Down Terrace' director Ben Wheatley came into the projection booth of the Duke of York's yesterday to chat with Jon and I on the latest Splendor Cinema Podcast. Our 64th episode sees us talk to Brighton-based filmmaker about his upcoming horror film, before drifting off into random chatter about 'Planet of the Apes' on Blu-ray.

That podcast is available now to subscribers on iTunes, whilst it'll also soon be available in the embedded player on this blog's podcast page. My review of 'Kill List', which is released next Friday (September 2nd), will be up at What Culture some time in the week.

Also, on an unrelated note, I've just published a huge "top 30 games" feature on What Culture about the lovely SEGA Dreamcast. The near 10,000 word beast of an article can be read here.

'The Inbetweeners Movie' review:

British TV comedies making the transition to feature films have a track record that could charitably be characterised as less than stellar. 'The League of Gentlemen's Apocalypse', 'Ali G Indahouse' and 'Kevin & Perry Go Large' are just some examples of what can go wrong when perfectly decent telly fodder gets inflated for the big screen. On paper at least, this year's blown-up cinema edition of Channel Four sitcom 'The Inbetweeners' - which comes with the no-nonsense title: 'The Inbetweeners Movie' - would seem to be following the same dreary trend, especially as it uses the tired "let's take the characters abroad" concept as the basis of its story.

Yet Film Four have bucked the trend winsomely with Ben Palmer - a director of the original series - presiding over what amounts to a high-quality bumper episode of the show. The film maintains a strong gag ratio as well as the astute character observations that serve as the series' best moments, all without jumping the shark in some bombast, hi-octane fashion. It's a consistently funny 97 minutes which sees Will (Simon Bird), Simon (Joe Thomas), Jay (James Buckley) and Neil (Blake Harrison) leave sixth form and embark on a sun-soaked summer holiday in Crete with the familiar aim of getting drunk and getting laid.



However, as anyone who's spent even minimal time in these characters' company before will know, our "heroes" aren't the coolest kids from their school. Jay talks a good game about sexual encounters, but is actually the most shy of the bunch when confronted with the "pussay" he so craves. Bespectacled Will, who again also serves as the narrator, talks himself into trouble at every turn with his boundless pedantry. Whilst Simon is as love-sick and self-involved as ever, especially now that his on-again off-again relationship with Carli (Emily Head) has hit the rocks indefinitely. Only shameless dim-wit Neil is without an obvious personality defect, in a strange way serving as the member of the group with the most appealing world view - even coming across as a good-natured innocent as he performs grotesque sex acts on game OAPs.

The Brits abroad setting allows for the digs at package holiday culture you might expect, but the film takes great pleasure in subverting clichés rather than conforming to them. The attractive girls who instantly and improbably fall for the boys are never treated as tacky FHM eye-candy either (with the vast majority of screen nudity being male) and the dynamic between the four main guys remains as engaging as ever. The actors might be in their mid-late twenties, but 'The Inbetweeners' has always been a far more realistic depiction of youth than we're used to seeing in the sexed-up, hyper-cool world of American "High School" films, or Channel Four's own 'Skins'.

Various narrative norms are also subverted to great effect, with each potential moment of sincere romantic feeling or dramatic heft immediately undercut with humour. This is a balls-out comedy that never pushes the dramatic envelope any further than its audience wants to go. It's content to entertain you, though that's not to say that the touching vulnerability of the four guys doesn't still shine through in a movie which always has its heart in the right place however crass and puerile it gets.

'The Inbetweeners Movie' is out in the UK now, rated '15' by the BBFC.

'Project Nim' review:

You can't really write a review of James Marsh's documentary 'Project Nim' without mentioning 'Rise of the Planet of the Apes'. Not only were both chimp-based movies released in the UK on the same day, but both overlap in terms of how they portray the life, from birth to adulthood, of one chimpanzee. And to quite disturbing effect.

Using the same mix of filmed interviews, dramatic re-enactments and archive material (amateur film, news coverage and still photography) that worked so well in Marsh's last film, the Academy Award winning 'Man on Wire', 'Project Nim' tells the story of Nim Chimpskey: a chimp abducted from his mother in the early 70s in order test whether language is unique to humans. However, despite being raised as a human child by a slightly mad New York family of "rich hippies", Nim was eventually discarded: given up for laboratory testing after the experiment concluded. Though eventually purchased from that facility by a wealthy animal sanctuary owner, Nim would spend the rest of his life in solitude within the confines of a concrete cage - his brief time in the media spotlight long since over.



The experiment itself comes across as a farce from beginning to end, with every scientist along the way growing personally attached to the chimp (treating him as a friend or infant human rather than an animal), perhaps all too eager to believe his repetition of various signs was proof of "language". But what's really striking are the questions it raises about the way chimps are kept by humans for entertainment and science (also a central theme of 'Rise'). As with his blockbuster counterparts, Nim's conditions in one animal sanctuary are like those of a prison, with the animals put to work in the yard whilst the humans patrol with cattle prods. One worker from the sanctuary says that there were "a couple of murders and two suicides" amongst the inmates and this bizarre similarity is matched by both films near identical portrayal of sterile medical research labs.

By the look of things, the experiment was hardly safe for the humans involved either, as we hear how the maturing Nim frequently attacked his handlers - biting a hole in the cheek of one woman and sinking his fangs dangerously close to the artery of another. At one point Nim kills a poodle whilst attempting to shut it up, whilst he also becomes obsessed with using household cats for the purposes of sexual gratification. Much like David Oyelowo's nasty, profit-obsessed businessman character in 'Rise of the Planet of the Apes', those behind the Nim experiment seem to have overlooked the safety of those involved in search of fame and profit.



The documentary mostly dismisses Herbert Terrace (the man behind the study) as little more than a publicity seeker and a slightly creepy user of impressionable young women. And, on the evidence provided, that may well be a fair assessment of his character. Yet Terrace's quite reasonable conclusion, that Nim did not in fact learn sign language but simply repeated gestures he learned would result in some form of gratification (food, contact, entertainment), is presented cynically by the film. It's as if Marsh is personally convinced, against science, that the chimp really did learn language. Contributors who speak about Nim more romantically, talking about holding "conversations" with the chimp and smoking pot with him, are given more favourable screen-time.

A perfect companion piece to 'Rise of the Planet of the Apes', 'Project Nim' serves to highlight the real life animal rights issues behind the fantasy, as well as showing how accurate some of that bigger film's settings really are. But even in isolation this is a worthwhile documentary. Incredibly heartfelt testimony of some of Nim's handlers ensures that it packs an emotional punch, whilst Marsh has lost none of the filmmaking tools which made his previous film so slick and entertaining.

'Project Nim' is on limited release in the UK now and is rated 'U' by the BBFC.

'Down Terrace' review:

"Never judge a book by its cover" goes the saying - and it's equally true of DVDs. The UK release of Ben Wheatley's Brighton set debut feature 'Down Terrace' has a ghastly front cover: an old geezer in a sharp suit looking like he wants to nut you, with the film's title styled as a Union Jack. There is an obligatory "best British gangster film in years" quote from BBC Radio Five and the dreadful, hooligan-bating tagline "it's about to kick off". Yet, as you might infer from the way I began this review, this is not a fair representation of the sort of film 'Down Terrace' is: a smart, well observed and subtle family drama with a dash of crime to up the ante.

'Down Terrace' is, at its core, the story of a tired minor crime boss, Bill, and his browbeaten, manchild son Karl - played to great effect by real-life father and son Robert and Robin Hill - a bickering, hate-filled pair who resemble a modern take on 'Steptoe and Son'. Karl has recently been released from prison to find that his girlfriend (Kerry Peacock) is pregnant, to the disgust of his father and the family's worn down matriarch Maggie (Julia Deakin). A crime plot, involving a series of murders, misunderstandings and a few twists, gets underway as Bill and Karl come to suspect a rat in their midst, but this is really about the twisted, abusive relationship between Karl and his parents.



If you have to liken it to another gangster movie, it belongs in the company of moody Australian ensemble drama 'Animal Kingdom' rather than 'Lock, Stock', for many reasons (some of which come with spoilers attached). Though, with its naturalistic performances and dry wit, 'Down Terrace' is a closer cousin to Mike Leigh than anything else. It's a low-key British kind of humour that wins the day, preoccupied with mundane concerns and peppered with gentle stray observations. For instance, at the height of the drama Bill tells Karl that - were it not for the recent murders - he could have finished painting the breakfast room by now. One pivotal blackly comic scene sees the 35 year old son screaming "mum!" at the top of his voice because he can't find something in his cluttered bedroom.

Despite the Brighton setting, Wheatley resists indulging in the now cliche iconography of the city, such as the Pavilion and Palace Pier. There is one reference to "trouble in Whitehawk" that will make natives chuckle and a scene on the Sussex Downs, but on the whole the fact that it's set in the area provides character and nuance without being tacky or fetishistic (unlike some bigger productions). The whole thing speaks of great discipline and the director makes the best of film's low production budget by focusing on the claustrophobic interior of the family home and a small group of authentic seeming actors.



For those enticed to the DVD by enthusiastic pull quotes about its Brit gangster movie credentials: there are a few scenes of brutal, bloody violence and several foul-mouthed conversations about the importance of "family". But 'Down Terrace' is much more concerned with character and relationships. It's sinister, damn funny and, as it reaches its climax, even a little moving.

'Down Terrace' was released in 2010 and is now available on DVD. Ben Wheatley's new film, 'Kill List', is in cinemas from September 2nd.

'The Iron Lady' trailer:

I recently pondered next year's Oscar race and completely forgot about 'The Iron Lady' - potentially next year's 'The King's Speech'. Another British historical drama with the backing of the Weinstein brothers, this time helmed by Phyllida Lloyd - the director responsible for the huge box office success that was 'Mamma Mia!'. This is probably enough on its own to suggest Oscar nods for the Margaret Thatcher biopic, but then you add the fact that the former Prime Minister is being played by none other than Meryl Streep and you've got to expect the Academy will love this.

I sincerely hope this isn't a celebratory film about "one woman's brave stand in a male dominated world" or some such. But with the great Jim Broadbent cast as husband Dennis, I can't see how life at home with the Thatchers is going to be anything other than sympathetic. I know it won't be critical or satirical of Thatcher (this is a British establishment movie if ever I've smelt one), but let's at least hope it isn't an insufferable whitewash. Chances are however that politics will be sidelined almost completely and it'll be a the story of a strong leader finding her voice in a time of great social upheaval (ring any bells?).

In any case, Streep's performance could be interesting regardless. There is a trailer out today, exclusively at The Guardian, so take a look.

'Attack the Block' review:

The success of 'Attack the Block', a comedy-horror movie written and directed by Joe Cornish (of 'Adam & Joe' fame), was always going to hinge on how the director portrayed his protagonists: a gang of so-called "hoodies". The film is set on a South London council estate which is invaded by ravenous extra-terrestrial monsters and follows a group of youths as they attempt to defend their housing block with samurai swords, fireworks and whatever else they have to hand. It's sort of like 'The Goonies' meets 'Aliens' via 'Shaun of the Dead'. But since the earliest trailer, (for me at least) question marks have hung over whether the comedy was going to be derived mainly from cynically picking on the country's inner city poor - with nothing more than a string of cheap, tired and obvious jokes at the expense of a feckless group of stereotyped "chavs".

Yet whilst the film opens with our would-be "heroes" mugging a young woman at knife point, Cornish manages to strike a delicate balance between humanising his gang of hoodlums, moralising about their actions and poking fun at them, and in the end the film is pretty perfectly pitched. Yes, there are gags at the expense of the kids' social class: for instance the film revels in the absurdity of their "urban", youth culture patois. But the film also riffs on the speech patterns of white, middle class, West London stoners. Almost everything that isn't scary, or at least jumpy, is played for good natured laughs, and the film most definitely has its heart in the right place.



The young actors feel authentic and bring a measure of understated comic brilliance to their delivery. Especially Alex Esmail as Pest, who looks something like "Dappy" from N-Dubz (only he's funny on purpose). It's also great to see a British film which revels in locally specific detail and which focusses on a number of black characters. At a first glance it would seem that Cornish has made his debut film very much in the mould of friends Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg. Nick Frost has a supporting role and Cornish plays with Hollywood genre conventions - especially those of sci-fi and horror - throughout. The screenplay is peppered with pop culture references and, as with the likes of 'Hot Fuzz', humour is mostly drawn from contrasting everyday British banality with an improbable hi-octane situation, with the alien invasion prompting lines like "I've got one text left. This is too much madness to explain in one text."

Yet compared to the Pegg/Wright oeuvre, Cornish's film is less obviously a sustained pop culture geek-off, in spite of frequent references to video games such as Gears of War. Instead it works quite capably on a surface level - as a comedy with scary bits, even for those without an encyclopedic knowledge of the work of Steven Spielberg. The in-jokes lie under the surface - satisfying for those in the know, but not intruding on the film's tight structure and engaging forward momentum.



It's terrifically well realised too, especially in the early shots which frame the housing block as some sort of futuristic, science fiction obelisk, and trace the hallway strip lighting as if it were on the inside of a spaceship. As a setting the block is versatile and filled with several distinctive environments which cleverly break up the film's predominantly black and grey colour palette. The alien creatures themselves are really well designed and fairly frightening, and Cornish has admirably shunned a more commercial '12A' certificate by filling the film with some pretty visceral, over the top gore.

Far from being the sustained, middle class wink that I'd feared, 'Attack the Block' is the smart, funny and slickly produced feature that I'd hoped for. As a first time director, Joe Cornish has displayed a level of assuredness that is encouraging and - if he can resist the inevitable overtures of Hollywood (he has already co-written the upcoming 'Tintin' film) - his brand of eye-catching, socially conscious and unpretentious comedy could be a sizable boon for British cinema for years to come.

'Attack the Block' is out now across the UK and has been rated '15' by the BBFC.

'Route Irish' review:

After the comparatively light-hearted 'Looking For Eric', Ken Loach has returned to grittier fare with 'Route Irish', a drama about the privatisation of the war in Iraq which plays like a murder mystery detective story. Fergus (Mark Womack) learns that his lifelong best friend Frankie (John Bishop) has been killed by roadside bomb on Baghdad's most dangerous road - Route Irish - whilst working for a private military company. Being an ex-soldier himself, Fergus is suspicious of the official account of how his friend was killed and starts contacting former colleagues and making inquiries before inevitably attracting the attention of those at the top.

Aside from the occasional flashback or video recording, 'Route Irish' is set in Liverpool, and Loach does an incredible job of bringing the Iraq war home to the UK. Over the course of Fergus' investigation we witness the use of so-called waterboarding torture, carried out in an abandoned garage by a motorway. We are also shown a gang of private soldiers turned loose on a number of British homes as they try to regain evidence of a war crime - with their brutal methods directed towards a British Muslim aiding Fergus. These moments take now familiar images of the conflict and put them in a new and, for many, more identifiable context where the basic inhumanity of the acts is crystal clear.



Writer Paul Laverty's dialogue can be a little on the nose at times, with the earnest, highly politicised subtext often working in the foreground, yet it is great to see Loach still making such transparently socialist films in the era of 'The King's Speech'. There is never any doubt of Loach's identification with the working class in 'Route Irish', with the real villain being capitalism as fronted by smartly dressed social elites. (So undesirable to Loach are the trappings of well-heeled conformity that he has Fergus break open Frankie's coffin prior to his funeral and remove the necktie he has been fitted with.) As with the criminal gang in 'Looking For Eric', those working class lads who terrorise others do so out of self-interest and, usually, for money - in effect betraying their social class. As always crime and capitalism are portrayed as equally anti-social.

As a former private security soldier, Fergus is also guilty of complicity with these values as he waged war abroad for a £10,000 a month paycheck. The progression of his character is driven by this guilt, compounded by the fact that Fergus persuaded Frankie into taking up the same work in the first place - effectively making him culpable for his friend's death. He begins his criminal investigation motivated only by a thirst for revenge but, but as he comes to realise the full horror of the PMCs, with their legal immunity giving rise to all manner of cowboy antics, his motivation becomes more noble and in the end he seeks redemption for his own crimes.



It's occasionally a heavy-handed affair, but a decade on from the start of the "War on Terror" Loach is taking a unique look at this much-filmed conflict. He does so with a really well paced thriller, which lasts just under two hours but never lags. Fergus is a sort of working class James Bond - ditching dinner jacket glamour and fealty to the crown for hard-edged blue-collar smarts - as he uses gadgets and guile to uncover the central mystery. 'Route Irish' works as a cracking whodunnit as much as a highly political commentary.

'Route Irish' is out now in the UK and rated a '15' by the BBFC.

'Brighton Rock' review:

It can be a thankless task adapting a beloved novel to the screen. It is then a doubly thankless task when you choose to adapt a beloved novel which has already spawned an equally beloved film. Though first time director and several-time writer Rowan Joffe - whose previous screenwriting credits include '28 Weeks Later' and 'The American' - has undertaken this very task with his updated version of Graham Greene's Brighton Rock. 'Brighton Rock' is the story of a criminal named Pinkie who murders a rival gang member and is forced to cover his tracks in order to avoid a grim death by hanging. The only witness to his crime is a young innocent named Rose, who Pinkie decides to romance in order to ensure her silence.

When I say "updated" I simply mean that Joffe has moved the story from its 1930s setting to the mid-1960s and has set the action amongst the "mods and rockers riots" of the era, made famous on the silver screen by the 1979 film 'Quadrophenia' - a cinematic reference the film alludes to with its relocation of the climax from Peacehaven (or the Palace Pier in John Boulting's 1947 version) to Beachy Head. Sam Riley, best known for playing Ian Curtis in 'Control', stars as Pinkie, a role made famous by Richard Attenborough. Andrea Riseborough plays the naive waitress Rose, whilst the supporting cast is more impressive, boasting Helen Mirren, John Hurt and Andy Serkis as the debonair crime boss Mr. Colleoni. A thankless task re-makes may be, but there were signs that this stellar cast, coupled with the film's vibrant new context, could make this new adaptation something unique and edgy.



Sadly, Joffe's film suffers not only in comparison with the film of old, but also with just about any film currently in cinemas. It is poor. Very poor in fact. Bearing the brunt of this cinematic train wreck is Sam Riley, whose performance is embarrassingly one-note. His Pinkie seems to be in the mould of Phil Mitchell, as he speaks in a gravelly half-whisper for the entire film. The representation of his relationship with Rose is even worse. The history of cinema is littered with female characters who fall in love with gangsters and psychopaths; it is a well-worn idea and one that has been handled far better in a hundred different movies. Usually the guy is shown to have a lighter side, for example in the films of James Cagney: he is often smooth, funny and charismatic, only showing his darker side when pushed or challenged. Indeed Attenborough's Pinkie had an undercurrent of vulnerability to him and even sweetness if you knew where to look.

Riley's Pinkie, by contrast, has no light to complement the shade. He is unremittingly horrid from the first time he meets Rose until the last. As a result you care nothing for him, not even as a brooding anti-hero, and you wonder why Rose would ever be drawn to him in the first place. I saw an old interview with the great Peter Ustinov the other day in which he said that “it’s never worth playing a hero without a weakness or a villain without a heart, a character must have three dimensions and some sort of inner contradiction to make it interesting”. This is, in my opinion, true and it is the greatest failing of Joffe's 'Brighton Rock' that all of the characters are thinly drawn, though Mirren, Serkis and Hurt gamely try their best with the material (albeit with an air of deliberate camp). Riseborough succeeds at injecting her character with a warmth found nowhere else in the film, yet the script is so lacking in nuance and the central relationship so lacking in credibility that it is another thankless task.



'Brighton Rock' 2011 has few redeeming qualities other than the score by Martin Phipps and the fact that it gives people from Brighton and Eastbourne (where much of it was shot) the chance to see their town on a cinema screen. The film's clifftop climax is so badly done it's almost comical, whilst Joffe's direction verges on the amateurish and his evocation of overused mod imagery (such as Pinkie on a scooter) feels contrived and cynical. I'm not blithely dismissive of re-makes and adaptations by nature. They can be cracking fun and sometimes even brilliant cinema (all of Kubrick's films are literary adaptations, for instance). However, if you have nothing to add to the original besides a slight change of setting - and if you can't even adequately get across the core dynamic of that earlier work - then you have no business making that film.

'Brighton Rock' is out in the UK from Friday 4th February and can be seen at Brighton's Duke of York's Picturehouse. The film is rated '15' by the BBFC.

CINECITY: 'Submarine' review:

Richard Ayoade is a very funny man. Once president of the Cambridge University Footlights (a role previously held by such luminaries as Peter Cook, Eric Idle, David Mitchell and (oddly) film critic Peter Bradshaw), Ayoade has established himself as a leading figure of British television comedy. He is best known for his role as Maurice Moss in Graham Linehan's once-good-now-terrible 'The IT Crowd', but has also appeared in the likes of 'The Mighty Boosh', 'Nathan Barley' and 'Time Trumpet'. Added to that, he co-wrote and starred in 80s sci-fi pastiche 'Garth Marenghi's Darkplace' and spoof chat show 'Man to Man with Dean Learner' - both as the same character. To my mind he is so gifted a comic performer that he even lit up the execrable British comedy film 'Bunny and the Bull' last year, with an all-too-brief cameo role (the film's sole highlight). Now, following a stint directing music videos for the like of the Arctic Monkeys, he has gone behind the camera to direct his debut feature film 'Submarine', which received its premiere in Toronto in September and closed Brighton's Cinecity Film Festival on Sunday evening.

For his maiden feature film the comic actor has chosen to adapt Joe Dunthorne's 2008 novel 'Submarine', which follows Welsh teenager Oliver Tate as he tries to lose his virginity (before it becomes legal) and prevent his parents from separating. Oliver is coldly analytical about his school classmates and (what he sees as) his parents failing relationship, creepily observing everything and ultimately understanding nothing. His delusions of grandeur and social awkwardness are depicted with unsettling brilliance by the young Craig Roberts. Equally compelling are a restrained Sally Hawkins as his mother and a withdrawn and quite sad Noah Taylor as his father. Another young actor, Yasmin Paige, portrays Oliver's love interest - the fickle and malevolent Jordana. Paige is, on this evidence, a watchable screen presence with bags of charisma. Also cast in a small role is Warp Films regular Paddy Considine, as a spiritual guru who has some of the film's funniest lines.



As you'd expect from a film made by Richard Ayoade, 'Submarine' is a comedy. But it is quite a dry comedy which comes more from the language and the actors reading of the dialogue than from overtly comic moments. In fact Ayoade is unafraid to go fairly long stretches without any obvious "gags" at all. Oliver's "ninja" next door neighbour Graham (Considine's guru character) is as broad as the film gets, aside from the sexual ('Inbetweeners-'esque) crudity of Oliver's school friends, but even then the comedy is never overplayed and the film skillfully avoids the all-out ridiculous. Some of the humour is pretty macabre too. For instance, one scene sees Oliver tell us, via narration, that he has read that pets are important for child development in that they prepare children to accept death. With Jordana's mother suffering from cancer, Oliver then resolves (with the best intentions) to kill her dog so as to soften the blow of her mother's possible demise. It is a relief to see, given his exagerated comic personae, that Ayoade can slip into this whole other gear and make what is a subtle, complex and overall human film.

Rarely in a debut feature do you find a director so in command of the form, as you sense that everything in 'Submarine' has been carefully played out in its director's head and translated exactly that way onto the screen. In the same way that the novel is self-consciously a novel (with Oliver referencing himself as being "the protagonist") Ayoade's film revels in the fact that it is a film, as Oliver talks about the camera techniques the film must implement if it is to tell his story. His megalomania draws obvious parallels with Jason Schwartzman's Max Fischer from the Wes Anderson film 'Rushmore' and other clear Anderson parallels are visible in terms of the films clean and colourful intertitles as well as in Ayoade's use of zooms and tracking shots. Also present is the same love of precision and detail, although these visual motifs and affectations probably owe more to the two filmmaker's shared love of the French New Wave than anything else. Oddly though, the film 'Submarine' most reminded me of was Kubrick's 'A Clockwork Orange' with Oliver's narration recounting his darker thoughts and actions with the same cheerful amorality of Malcolm McDowell's Alex.



'Submarine' is as sweet and at times unsettling as it is beautifully made and wonderfully acted. It is funny - but not too funny - and also melancholic and above all truthful, in spite of that fact that it takes place in a reality heightened by its narrator's ego. When Noah Taylor (a Hove local) introduced the film to the Cinecity crowd at the weekend, he heralded Richard Ayoade as an important British filmmaker for the future. Before the film rolled that might have just sounded like polite hyperbole. After it finished, to a rapturous ovation, I was left in little doubt that he was right.

Now Richard Ayoade joins fellow British comedians (and sometime collaborators) Armando Iannucci and Chris Morris in making a terrific debut film, I am left to wonder: with the bar raised impossibly high, what can we expect from their next efforts? I am certainly excited to find out.

'Submarine' is released in the UK in March next year and is not yet rated by the BBFC. No trailer is currently available.

'Monsters' review:

Let me get one thing out of the way at the beginning of this review. Yes, it is indeed impressive that young British director Gareth Edwards has made his debut film, the sci-fi, road movie 'Monsters', for reportedly less than half a million dollars. More impressive still is that he not only wrote and directed the film, but acted as his own cinematographer and even did all the films digital effects at home on his computer, apparently using relatively affordable software. This is indeed laudable, and points towards a future where big, special effects blockbusters may be made by indie filmmakers just as well as by big studios. And what a future that could be. Imaginative filmmakers with epic visions who constantly find themselves restricted by the commercial interests of the studios (such as Alex Cox and Terry Gilliam) might be able to make the kind of ambitious films they always wanted to make.

Gareth Edwards is not alone in thinking big with limited resources. Uruguayan amateur Fede Alvarez made headlines last year by earning himself a big Hollywood contract after achieving success on YouTube with his four minute short film called 'Ataque de Panico'. That film also had a big sci-fi concept which would usually cost more than that short's stated $300 budget, as it depicted giant robots attacking Uruguay's capital city of Montevideo. Earlier in 2009, Canadian brothers Ian and David Purchase achieved a huge internet following with their short film adaptation of the Half-Life 2 video game, 'Half-Life: Escape from City 17', which also boasted impressive effects and a sense of scale on a meagre budget. Video games have inspired countless others too - including polished fan film versions of Pokemon and Street Fighter - but the highest profile one saw 'Fame' remake helmer Kevin Tancharoen shooting his own D.I.Y Mortal Kombat short in an effort to pitch a full movie to studios. No doubt the the box office success of 'Monsters' will inspire a few more on a feature length scale and this can only be a good thing.



However, forget for a second the film's low-budget and other indie credentials (it stars Scoot McNairy of 'In Search of a Midnight Kiss' fame alongside a supporting cast of non-actors) and what you have in 'Monsters' is a fairly unfulfilling film which didn't satisfy me as a creature feature nor as a relationship drama.

The plot is as follows: a photojournalist (Andrew played by McNairy) is asked by his boss to escort his daughter (Samantha played by Whitney Able) from Mexico back to her home in the United States. After missing the last boat back, the pair decide to embark on the journey by land. This would sound like a simple enough trip. Except this story is set in the near future, where the land between the newly drawn borders of Mexico and the USA is the "infected zone" - home to extraterrestrial creatures accidentally brought down to Earth by a malfunctioning NASA probe. Worse still, the infected zone is under constant bombardment by the US Air Force, who carpet bomb the whole area to keep the aliens at bay. As you'd expect with such a modest budget, the aliens are very rarely seen and instead the film is more focused on the dynamic between Samantha and Andrew.



This would be fine if either of them were interesting or if they ever had anything interesting to say. 'Monsters' is suffocated by constant exposition with people saying things like "so let me get this straight: we have 48 hours to get to the coast" and when we aren't having things we have just seen and heard simplified for us we are forced to spend our time in the company of a couple of morons. Andrew has, he tells us, seen the corpses of the aliens before on several occasions. The creatures are also on the television news or caricatured by informative children's cartoons whenever we see a television. The duo are aware they are heading through the infected zone, as a great many sign posts tell them so. They see the destruction of areas affected by the so-called monsters. Yet when confronted by them they are forever shouting (and I mean shouting) "what the hell is that thing", over and over and over again.

The shouting doesn't stop even when their armed guards - who by the way are asked several times "why have you guys got guns?" (gee, I wonder why) - tell them to be quiet during one attack sequence. The pair just can't shut up, forever yelping "why are you putting your gas masks on?" (even though that very question was the subject of a public service broadcast aimed at children in a previous scene). When they pass through a destroyed town they ask aloud "all these people's homes. But where are all the people?" They are infuriating human beings who are just begging to be made victims of intergalactic assault. What's more, Andrew is totally inept at his job. When he isn't taking cliché, sub-Banksy photos of children wearing gas masks or playing with barbed wire, he is going on a cathartic journey to grow a conscience which ultimately sees him cover up a dead child's body rather than take a picture for his employers. It is supposed to be a sign that he has, in leaving supposed civilization, rediscovered what it means to be human. By contrast the human world - which, full of greed and evil, pays for pictures of dead children - has become alien. To me it just shows that the film doesn't understand the role such photojournalism has played in turning public opinion against violent wars since Vietnam. Certainly, there is a moral ambiguity to it, but it isn't a simple case of "right and wrong". But 'Monsters' isn't a nuanced film and Edwards it seems would rather resort to trite, sentimental corn than face the more complex realities of the human condition.



This heavy-handed moralising about the modern world continues into the films 'Avatar'-like eco message and in its meaningless symbolism as the American troops at the beginning are shown attacking an alien at a petrol station. To what end? I couldn't tell you. Accept that it's making some loose connection between the American's attack on the creatures and the war in Iraq. Edgy stuff that should take the heat off Julian Assange once Washington finds out. The film also suggests that Mexican officials are corrupt, leading me to wonder whether a deleted scene would have revealed the toiletry habits of bears.

I can't help but feel that the film's shallow "humans are bad" rhetoric would be dismissed if this were larger film, perhaps directed by James Cameron. It's a message that makes no sense either. Whilst in the infected wilderness they encounter the aforementioned dead child. They also see the eviscerated bodies of people they were travelling with. What is so wonderful about the aliens is anyone's guess. Just that they're not human. Because we humans are so terribly, terribly bad, you see. It is a po-faced film which is smugly satisfied by its seriousness. Edwards knows that everyone will line up to gush "it's a monster film that isn't about the monsters!" - as if that was what we'd all been waiting for.



'Monsters' didn't thrill me and it certainly didn't move me either. Yet I must return to the first point of this review and put the thing back in its context as a film that cost a first-time director less than $500,000 to make. With that in mind it is an excellently well designed film. If you didn't know it was made on the cheap, you probably wouldn't be able to tell from what is an extremely handsomely made film. Much like that of last year's 'District 9', the world Edwards creates is an interesting one and you are drawn to wonder at the story around the story. You scan the world for details which will give you more information about this time and place, with these strange circumstances told to you in a matter of fact way and made to seem highly plausible. It is also a credit to Edwards that he stages his scenes of tension well, even if they are all ripped straight out of the Spielberg playbook (the car attack scene is lifted from 'Jurassic Park', whilst the encounter with a curious alien in the gas station is reminiscent of a similar sequence in 'War of the Worlds') - perhaps appropriate given that Spielberg's first short movies required similar ingenuity in terms of homemade special effects.

As a film, I wasn't sold on 'Monsters'. But as part of a growing and exciting trend it thrills me absolutely. I can only imagine what we'll see in the future if anyone with an idea and the talent can feasibly make whatever film they want to. Indie filmmakers have long between able to make gritty, social realism films and small scale dramas. But maybe now science fiction and fantasy are not out of reach. I don't want to oversell it: Gareth Edwards may have only spent $500,000 making this film, but he still had half a million dollars at his disposal (not to mention the backing of Vertigo Films). But who knows? Maybe the next 'Star Wars' or 'Lawrence of Arabia' will be made in a bedroom rather than a movie studio.

'Monsters' is rated '12A' by the BBFC and is out now in the UK. It is playing this week at Brighton's Duke of York's Picturehouse cinema.

'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One' review: All's well that ends well?

I have never read, or even been tempted to read, a Harry Potter book. Nor have I enjoyed the series of films J.K Rowling's writing has inspired which having begun in 2001 with 'The Philosopher's Stone' - and due to conclude next year - now span (and for some possibly define) a cinema-going decade. For me there has always been something very twee about these stories - set within a boarding school for witches and wizards - and something incredibly establishment about their very existence and place in the "British" film industry. Worse still, it has always felt like the series' best ideas and characters had been stolen wholesale from other works: books by Roald Dahl, C.S Lewis and J.R.R Tolkien. And with Warner Brothers having eschewed hiring Terry Gilliam (the author's publicly stated preferred choice) these uninspiring tales have also been beset by a succession of similarly uninspiring filmmakers.

'Home Alone' director Chris Columbus helmed the first two movies, making films of almost staggering blandness. Some brief respite was given to the series' in the form of the third outing, 'The Prisoner of Azkaban', as darling of the Mexican New Wave Alfonso Cuarón brought to that film a more naturalistic approach in the acting (especially in the film's young cast) as well as a darker colour palette and some more imaginative shot choices. Yet it was still ultimately a pretty poor film, still weighed down by interminably dull scenes of "Quidditch" and even featuring Lenny Henry. But whatever its flaws, the series' third chapter was enriched by Cuarón as director. Though it would be short lived, as soon Harry Potter was thrust firmly back into cinematic mediocrity once again with the Mike Newell directed fourth film boring me near to tears when I saw it at the cinema in 2005.



It is strange that having gone through three established film directors the series would find its salvation in the hands of a little known British TV director. David Yates, prior to directing the fifth Potter film, 2007's 'The Order of the Phoenix', was best known for directing edgy TV dramas 'State of Play', 'Sex Traffic' and 'The Girl in the Cafe'. It was the same sort of left-field logic that had led Warner Brothers to hire Cuarón off the back of his sexually explicit 'Y Tu Mamá También' and, as with that choice, it has proven to be inspired - though this wasn't evident right away. 'The Order of the Phoenix', still bound by the setting of Hogwarts school and its myriad of dreary lessons and irksomely quirky teachers, was only a marginal improvement on its forbears. It was actually with 'The Half-Blood Prince', the sixth film in the series, that Yates really turned things around.

'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince' is relatively light on action. It is a slower, more character based film which found the leads - Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint and Emma Watson - now able to act. It was intense and visceral in a way never before attempted by these films, and in a way missing from most modern kids films in general. There were more interesting characters and themes, as it looked at the school life of the series' arch-villain Tom Riddle (AKA Voldemort) and also made other perennial villains more human, such as Draco Malfoy, played by Tom Felton. Once a two-dimensional, snarling school bully, Draco was here portrayed as a troubled child in the middle of an identity crisis, torn apart as he struggled with the moral implications of his family's allegiance with "the dark Lord" and his growing unease at his own grave part in their evil schemes.



Yet even when these films were not terrible, they were forever bringing out the cynic and the pedant in me as a viewer. I was forever asking "why are they doing that?", "how come that's suddenly possible?" and "why didn't they think to do that two scenes ago?" My problem was often that the films' internal logic seemed inconsistent and muddled. Often Potter himself seemed like a, frankly, shit protagonist. He was forever being saved by some contrived deus ex machina (such as the magical sword at the end of film two) or by his teachers. He was always being told exactly what to do, every step of the way. For example, when in film four he has make a golden egg reveal a clue, it takes Robert Pattinson telling him to "try giving it a bath", followed by another character telling him to "try putting in into the water" when he gets there - so unable is he to make that logical leap. My girlfriend was always saying "it makes more sense in the books". But I don't care. These films should make sense in their own right, or else they are just expensive fan-service.

The reason I have chosen to begin my review of the latest installment, 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One', with this account of my own history with these films is two-fold. Firstly, I wasn't reviewing films when these came out and I wanted to state my position on them here. Secondly, I thought it important to provide a context for my unabashed praise of this latest film. For in 'Deathly Hallows Part One' I have found a Potter film I can actually enjoy.



Never before have two films in the same franchise seemed so totally alien to each other as 'Philopher's Stone' and 'Deathly Hallows' must look placed side-by-side. (OK, maybe the Bond series has changed more over its near fifty years of being, but these Potter movies are direct sequels less than ten years apart.) 'Deathly Hallows Part One' is not a film in which Potter inflates his nasty auntie into a balloon or takes part in a "Triwizard Tournament" or tastes bogey flavoured magic sweeties. It is a film which opens on a scene of torture and murder (of a bound and weeping school teacher no less), in which one of Harry's friends is casually killed off screen and another dies bleeding in his arms. The first time we see Harry's friend Hermione Granger she is tearfully erasing herself from her parents' memory so as to keep them safe. Whilst the fourth film boasted Jarvis Cocker singing a song called "Do the Hippogriff", this seventh film sees Harry turn on a radio to hear "O Children" by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, to which he and Hermione temporarily relieve their gloom with a melancholic dance, in an emotionally charged scene which I'm told doesn't exist in the book. It's a moment which will probably be ignored for being in a Harry Potter blockbuster, but I feel a similar moment in a "serious" film would receive more attention.

If 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone' was like a Famous Five story, then this new film feels like something out of Cormac McCarthy's The Road. The bleak, recognisably English landscapes are desolate and our heroes are often alone, uncertain whether anyone they know has survived. There is precious little comedy relief in this chapter. Which is nice as the "gags" in previous Potter movies have been woeful. What lightness and humour there is comes from the central three characters friendship which seems more real then ever before - perhaps as a result of the fact that these child actors have genuinely grown up together (one of the series' real pleasures). Yates' Potter films have been enriched by their taking place in a more recognisable, and even banal, world. The last film saw Yates stage a deadly Voldemort attack on London's Millennium Bridge (a modern and lesser known landmark as of yet untouched by Michael Bay or Roland Emmerich) and similarly 'Deathly Hallows' presents a modern, lived-in and refreshingly normal picture of London - neither touristy or excessively grimy. Yates has realised that in making the "muggle" (non-magical) world less wondrous a place, the magic of Potter & co. is given room to be all the more exciting by contrast.



So it is that the chase sequence near the film's start is the most exciting bit of action from any chapter of the series. As Harry flips around a tunnel to dodge cars on his motorcycle (well, more accurately Hagrid's motorcycle - Harry is in the side-car) it is Harry and his friends integration into a more convincing "real world" setting that makes it work. There are also far fewer times when things are over-explained to us via Harry, or where the the heroes actions cease making sense and robbed of Dumbledore as a benevolent, omnipotent guide, it is up to Harry, Hermione and Ron to solve the film's problems. And as the stakes have never been higher (this is after all the first part of the series' finale) the film is also much more involving than those that came before.

It is rare to find a film series that actually grows up with its audience. When George Lucas made his much-maligned 'Star Wars' prequels, fans felt he'd infantilised the saga. Those films, with the slapstick comedy of Jar Jar Binks and an increased pandering to the "toyetic", certainly feel as though they are aimed at a young audience rather than the thirty-somethings who grew up with the original trilogy. In contrast, these films (I imagine thanks to the books) do seem to be going on a journey with their young audience. Children that started off with 'Philosopher's Stone' have a film in 'Deathly Hallows' that they can enjoy ten years on and which may actually frighten and excite them.



'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One' is in a different league to its predecessors. It's consistently tonally serious and dark, whereas even the last film would switch uneasily between tragedy and light-hearted comedy all in the space of a scene (note the sudden change from talking about a central character's murder to talking about Harry's latest crush in the final scene of 'Half-Blood Prince'). It also better develops its characters and benefits from a more interesting story with higher stakes. The distracting array of British actors hamming it up is also less of a problem here, as most of our time is spent in the company of the three children.

Perhaps my only real criticism is that it wouldn't work on its own: you need to have seen the other films and/or read the books to understand it. This is to be expected as it's a conclusion (or at least the beginning of one), but I would hesitate to recommend this film to newcomers or to label it any kind of classic. It will always be bound up with the other, less good films which have sadly already undermined this story. It is a shame then that it took four films before Yates took the reins. Although maybe some of this film's pleasure does come from its stark contrast with the earlier chapters - and with the Columbus years in particular. Perhaps it only works because those films exist: because the brightly lit, Christmas card aesthetic of the earlier efforts is there to be subverted in this way. Whatever the reason 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One' worked for me - a self-described Potterphobe - it did work. As a result I find myself in the unlikely position of looking forward to next year and 'Part Two'. Perhaps, as far as the Harry Potter movies are concerned, all's well that ends well.

'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One' is rated '12A' by the BBFC - for being bloody scary, I'd imagine.

CINECITY: 'The King's Speech' review:

When Jeff Bridges won the Oscar for Best Actor at this year's Academy Awards, for his turn in 'Crazy Heart', Colin Firth was considered to be the unlucky loser. In truth, after picking up every award going en route to that ceremony, the Oscar was always going to go to Bridges on the night - a fact Firth himself repeatedly acknowledged in the run up - but there were many who felt that it ought to have gone to the English actor for his compelling performance as a suicidal, homosexual professor in Tom Ford's 'A Single Man'. Yet there is a feeling that it could be second time lucky for Firth who has, seemingly undeterred by that defeat, brushed himself down and taken another swing at it right away, playing the role of King George VI in the award-baiting historical drama 'The King's Speech'.

Firth, along with his director Tom Hooper ('The Damned United') and co-stars Helena Bonham Carter and Geoffrey Rush, will have every reason to approach next year's ceremony with confidence following the film's enthusiastic response in Toronto where it was bestowed the audience award. In the last few year's winners of that award have included the likes of 'Slumdog Millionaire' and 'Precious' and there is a growing feeling that Firth - and quite possibly his co-stars - are due to be, at the very least, among the names nominated.



'The King's Speech' is inspired by real life events that apparently saw the stammering man who would be king, Prince Albert ("Bertie" to his mates), seek out the help of every speech therapist in the Kingdom in an attempt to improve his public speaking. Just when he has abandoned all hope at ever finding a cure, his dedicated wife (Bonham Carter as the Queen Mum) tracks down an unorthodox Australian by the name of Lionel Logue (Rush) who swears he can correct the royals speech - so long as the treatment is done on his terms as with his other (more common) patients. To complicate matters, Bertie's speech impediment becomes a greater concern as his brother Edward's (Guy Pearce) relationship with an American divorcée brings him unexpectedly to the throne.

Also looming in the background is the spectre of the Second World War and the Nazi's charismatic leader Adolf Hitler. When watching a newsreel of the dictator speaking at a rally, Bertie's daughter Elizabeth (the future queen) asks "what is he saying papa?" "I don't know, but he seems to be saying it rather well." It is vital then that in the mass media age Bertie must not only speak, but be able to inspire an Empire that spans the globe. But alongside these lofty concerns sits a personal story - that of the fraught friendship between two men of very different backgrounds: Bertie and Lionel.



The resultant film is, at best, a thematic mess that (as with many biographical films) indulges in cod psychology as it explores its subject. The films feeling towards the Windsor clan is a little confused. On one hand there are frequent (and fairly funny) jokes made at the expense of the upper class: "your physicians are idiots" chides Lionel. "They've all be knighted!" replies Bertie incredulously. "That makes it official then" responds the Australian. There are also numerous moments where the royals very real contempt for the average person comes into full view, and other moments where they seem downright horrid to one another. But ultimately the film is rather smitten with these characters and its treatment of the royal clan is nostalgic and sometimes downright celebratory. Even the Nazi sympathising of Bertie's brother David (the disgraced King Edward VIII) is never really dealt with explicitly. It is alluded to at several points, but 'The King's Speech' is so set on pleasing the establishment that it avoids too much unsavoury history.

Perhaps the film is especially troubling coming now, at a time of economic crisis where the tax payer is apparently due to pick up the bill for a wealthy young billionaires wedding, as it continues to peddle a number of unpalatable myths. At one point the Queen Mum-to-be likens the heavy burden of royal obligation to a form of indentured servitude - admittedly in jest, but the lines humour comes from its perceived truth: that these noble people are in some way suffering a life of slavish public service (jetting around the world waving at people and occasionally posing for photos whilst skiing).



In some sense, the narrative's central problem is also ever so slightly pathetic. The king must labour to read aloud a speech that he hasn't written, about events he will play no practical part in shaping. He literally just has to say the words. And he can't do that. His only bloody job. I'm not intending to sound glib or churlish about those with speech impediments, including George VI who I am sure possessed some measure of courage and a certain steely resolve in order to speak publicly. But the great historical and social weight placed on this personal struggle sums up our supposed love affair with our supposed betters. "Well done!" we are geared up to gamely cheer as the very well kept and expensively educated monarch learns to pronounce his 'P' sounds. Honestly, good for him. But let's not hold a street party.

As infuriating as that premise might be though, it is one which is carried off with disarming humour. Straight after the ultimate speech, his first wartime radio address, Lionel tells Bertie "you still stuttered on the 'W'" to which the king replies "I had to throw a few of them in so they knew it was me". It is to the credit of everyone involved that this film remains affable, watchable and entertaining from start to finish in spite of its royalist ways. Geoffrey Rush is especially likable and funny, whilst Firth is again in good form. His stutter is consistent and improves subtly throughout the film. Structurally it seems to take a wrong turn when the last half hour seems to build to two climaxes (the coronation and the radio address) but it is generally well paced stuff and decently executed stuff.



It is also sometimes "a little bit Richard Curtis", when moments of comedy come entirely out of the sound of an upper class English twit using words like "tits", "willy" and "shit". In fact, Firth is in a couple of scenes required to string together great reams of "fucks" and "buggers" during his sessions with Rush's therapist. Despite this heavy use of profanity the BBFC awarded the film a '12A' certificate, even though 'Made in Dagenham' was earlier this year controversially awarded a '15' for use of the same swear words. This has led to allegations of classism against the BBFC, who many commentators suppose have seen upper class swearing as non-threatening and funny, whilst working class swearing is violent and even potentially revolutionary. Whatever the truth behind that accusation (and I certainly see some) this particular humorous element felt cheap.

Whether or not the film's decent performances are going to prove Oscar winning, we'll find out next year. I certainly don't think the films romanticised picture of the monarchy will be much of a problem for American audiences and it is precisely the sort of backwards looking, period fare that sells all too well in the colonies, for whatever reason. Is Firth's performance here better than that which graced screens earlier this year in 'A Single Man'? Well, no. But more than a few have picked up Oscars for far less, often the year after a perceived snub. With no overwhelmingly clear favourite yet established for next year's Best Actor award, this is perhaps Firth's best chance to grab the glory. If he does, brace yourself for the inevitable stutter joke during his acceptance speech...

'The King's Speech' is rated '12A' by the BBFC and is due out on January 7th in the UK.

'The Arbor' review:

In recent years British cinema has seemingly started to move on from the sort of poverty porn, "ain't life grim" aesthetic that typified past depictions of working class life. Films like 'Cemetery Junction' and, more recently, 'Made in Dagenham' have presented a more palatable and infinitely more hopeful picture of life at the bottom (although both look fondly backwards to the 70s and 60s respectively), whilst even the longtime stalwarts of British social realist cinema have taken a turn for what some might disparagingly term "the mainstream", with Ken Loach last year directing the feelgood 'Looking for Eric' and Mike Leigh increasingly turning his talent to films of great warmth and humanist goodwill. It would be tempting to think that we'd all forgotten how to peer through the net curtains, with tears of condescension in our eyes, at the plight of the nation's great unhosed.

Well fear not, because ably filling this void is Clio Barnard's 'The Arbor', which has just bagged itself a couple of prizes at the London Film Festival and opened in UK cinemas last Friday. 'The Arbor' is a grim watch indeed as it forms a sort of biography of the late Bradford playwright Andrea Dunbar (writer of 'Rita, Sue and Bob Too!'), focusing on her strained relationship with her eldest daughter, the mixed-race Lorraine. The film goes beyond Dunbar's death from a brain hemorrhage in 1990, aged just 29, to look at how Lorraine became a heroin addict, a prostitute and, eventually, ended up in prison for allowing her son to die of "gross neglect". To tell this story, Barnard blends together a variety of techniques which include archive news footage, newly staged re-enactments of her first play, The Arbor, shot on location in the Brafferton Arbor area of Bradford (performed by actors, including Jimi Mistry) and, most startlingly, extracts of audio interviews with Dunbar's friends and family, dubbed over the performances of actors.



This latter technique is unorthodox, at least outside of Nick Park's 'Creature Comforts' series of animations - there used for comedy rather than drama - and has received mixed responses from critics, one of the most damning coming from The Guardian's David Cox. Personally, I found it distracting and sometimes even comical, which undermined the films very earnest approach and heavy subject matter. Many of the voices really don't work with the actors, the most obvious being Dunbar's younger daughter Lisa played by Christine Bottomley. The real life Lisa's voice, which is deep and slightly gruff Yorkshire accent, doesn't convincingly come from the mouth of the pretty, youthful looking actress. But such is the undeniable raw emotional power of some of the testimony - specifically regarding the death of Lorraine's child - that some of the film works in spite of this clunky device.

What I can't help but wonder though is this: what is the point of it all? We find out that behind Dunbar's broadsheet friendly persona as "a genius straight from the slums" she was perhaps a less than wonderful mother, by Lorraine's account at least. We also hear how she spent the majority of her time in the local pub, never moving away from the people and the area she immortalised in her stage plays. But does this look at the real life Dunbar and her offspring shed new light on her plays? And does this unusual, experimental device do the story any greater service than a traditional documentary or completely dramatised film might have otherwise done? I tend to doubt it. By straddling the line between documentary and drama, the film functions as neither. Nor does that film try to hard to draw any parallels between the Arbor of thirty years ago and the street as it is today. We see some footage of children playing football in a park, but nothing revealing.



This is not to say, however, that 'The Arbor' is a total failure. After all, it is daring and experimental in a way few films can boast (especially British films) and it is hard to take against that too strongly. For me though, the film is devoid of any real point, other than to take us on yet another grim poverty safari. It is another film about the poor intended to be consumed by chin-stroking liberals, who more often than not frown on the more accessible films enjoyed by the very people they patronise. Honestly, it is as if Preston Sturges never made 'Sullivan's Travels'.

With the demise of the UKFC, and the latest cuts to the budget of the Arts Council and the BFI, it could well be that British cinema makes a return to these sorts of grim portrayals of life for the working poor - low budget films made in a climate devoid of that initial wave of New Labour optimism. I have no problem with seeing those sorts of films at all. I just hope they have a bit more to offer than 'The Arbor'.

'The Arbor' is out in the UK now on a limited release and is rated '15' by the BBFC.

'Made in Dagenham' review:

'Made in Dagenham', directed by Nigel Cole, is the sort of cheery, cheeky, working class comedy-drama that at one time came to typify commercially viable British cinema output: from the likes of 'The Full Monty' to 'Billy Elliott' to Cole's own 'Calender Girls'. These are "uplifting" and "heartwarming" films which aim for mass popularity, whilst retaining a degree of social consciousness, and this latest film is no different. Based on events which took place in 1968, 'Made in Dagenham' looks at the decision of female sewing machinists, at the Ford Motor Company's manufacturing plant in Dagenham, to go on strike and demand to be paid the same amount as their male counterparts. The event was apparently crucial in establishing the Equal Pay Act, which was finally passed into law in 1970.

Sally Hawkins stars as Rita, a likable and forthright worker who leads the ladies on a difficult journey that puts them at loggerheads with their employers, their union and even the British government. Joining Hawkins, in an ensemble cast comprised mostly of British actors, are Miranda Richardson, Bob Hoskins, Rosamund Pike, Jaimie Winstone, Kenneth Cranham, Rupert Graves and John Sessions. The trouble is that, almost without exception, they play their roles as broad caricatures. John Sessions is particularly sub-par, playing Labour Prime Minister Harold Wilson as a shallow, comic parody that wouldn't be out of place of 'Stella Street'. Sessions works with the film's authors to undermine Wilson's role in history, suggesting he had limited involvement in the wide ranging social reforms that characterised his time in office.



Miranda Richardson is equally lacking in finesse as Secretary of State Barbara Castle who is presented to us here as a proud member of the sisterhood: a strong woman in a man's world, working among incompetents. She decides to back the women against Wilson's order (whilst he is out of the country) and in the face of the powerful (and very masculine) Ford Motor Company. I presume a difficult juggling act was required: an active and supportive Wilson would arguably have undermined the "sisters doing it for themselves" angle taken by the film. Perhaps as another consequence of this choice; trade unions are also vilified as a working class old boys network. The filmmakers have clearly carved a story out of history which best serves their desired narrative arc.

However, this "girl power" angle is undermined by the film, regardless of these choices, on account of Sally Hawkins' tearful hyperventilating whenever she gives a speech or stands up to authority. I loved Hawkins in 'Happy Go-Lucky' and rate her as an actress, but here she plays Rita as though she is about to burst into tears whenever things get confrontational which would seem to play into the stereotype (popular at the time) that women are irrational and prone to outbursts of uncontrollable emotion. She is as likable and charming as ever, but doesn't convince as the leader we are told she is. By contrast, the real women of the strike (shown in interviews during the end credits) seem to be made of sterner stuff.




A highpoint for me was the presence of American stage actor (and 'West Wing' alumni) Richard Schiff who completely steals the show in a limited supporting role. Not only is he far more intense, naturalistic and authentic than his co-stars, but he also takes a thankless role as "the big Ford guy" and prevents it from becoming two dimensional. When he makes his point to the unions, and later the UK government, that Ford simply can't afford to play female workers the same as men and that, if forced to, they will pull manufacturing out of the UK, he does so in a way which seems reasonable and motivated by a grasp of economics rather than a burning evil at his core (though there is a case to be made that they are one and the same thing). But, sadly, Schiff has stumbled into a film of dick jokes, thickly layered with images of generic 60's cliché: it's less 'Mad Men' and more 'Austin Powers' as Jaimie Winstone struts around the factory in her hotpants.

The thing is though: it somehow works. By the end of the film I was pulling for Hawkins and her friends and found myself having to resist the urge to pump a fist into the air as they overcame the odds. Despite the gloss and its shallow nature, 'Made in Dagenham' is somehow every bit as winsome and heartwarming as it sets out to be. Part of this is down to the film's liberal, socially spirited agenda. It is an overtly political film: a Capra-esque polemic about the little guy standing up against power. It is a film where the good guys quote Karl Marx and our sympathies lie with those taking industrial action. And I'm not about to argue with any of that.



'Made in Dagenham' is also, in spite of its bombast, optimistic conclusion, a sad film in many ways. The Ford man's foreshadowing of a time when industry will leave the UK and go abroad, where labour costs are cheaper, is of course a reference to the world we live in today. It may sound like so much hokum, but there is also a sense of working class solidarity and collective pride which no longer exists: especially in the pessimistic and socially regressive Britain of 2010.

Will Nigel Cole's movie inspire the little man to stand up for himself (or herself) again? Can it transcend the political apathy that is arguably a root cause of our contemporary malaise? Or, paraphrasing the less florid words of Oliver Stone, will it do "a spittle's worth of good"? Better films than this have tried. But it would be churlish of me to deny that I had anything other than a good time watching 'Made in Dagenham', in spite of its many flaws.

'Made in Dagenham' has been out on general release in the UK for a few weeks and is still playing. The film has been rated '15' by the BBFC.

'Tamara Drewe' review:

I have to admit I was a little prejudiced towards Stephen Frears' latest film, 'Tamara Drewe'. For every good review (like Peter Bradshaw's intriguing write up in The Guardian), there was a nagging doubt based on several, admittedly superficial, factors. First among these was the horrible trailer in which a character says “she doesn't need a boy... she needs a man” (a line which never actually appears in the film). Then there was the poster, which generally just displayed Gemma Arterton in hot pants, resting on a fence in a bright and cheerful Dorset setting. These efforts to promote the film actually sold it short, giving little indication of the loose morals, black comedy and violent tragedy that actually lay within.

'Tamara Drewe' is based on a newspaper comic of the same name by Posy Simmonds, and sees Tamara (Arterton), an attractive young journalist, return to the quaint village of her youth in order to sell her family home. However, she soon disrupts the equilibrium of the village with her beauty, and her new rock star boyfriend (Dominic Cooper). The original comic was a reworking of Thomas Hardy's Far From the Madding Crowd - a fact that the film pays homage to with frequent references to Hardy's life and work, via a socially awkward American academic (a touching underdog played by Bill Camp).



In fact 'Tamara Drewe' is pretty solidly entertaining. It was never as sidesplittingly funny for me as it was for the rest of the audience (though I did laugh), but what won me over was the characters, who seem like broad archetypes from the outset but reveal more depth and complexity as the film goes on. By the its climax, the film has taken many unexpected turns and shunned many established conventions. For example, none of the characters are purely good or bad, with the adultery of Roger Allam's pompous author not able to completely diminish his wife's affection for him by the film's conclusion. Similarly, a less interesting film would have seen the “good” boyfriend (the boring Andy, played by Luke Evans) getting one over Dominic Cooper's indie hellraiser Ben, but again this never really materialises.

Instead there are performances of disarming depth and subtlety. Notably from Tamsin Grieg, who is the emotional centre of the film. Arterton is passable as Tamara, although she is probably the film's weakest suit. But it doesn't matter at all, because every other performer is really appealing. It is also of note that 'Tamara Drewe' features some of the best screen depictions of children that I have ever seen (Jessica Barden being the standout case), as two young girls gossip and bitch throughout the film – refreshingly not played by actors in their mid-twenties. They too are afforded a degree of emotional complexity and depth that goes beyond their comic exterior.

I can't say I ever need to see 'Tamara Drewe' again. But I was never bored and was always kept pleasantly entertained by a film with more to offer than perhaps immediately meets the eye.

'Tamara Drewe' is still on general release in the UK and is rated '15' by the BBFC. Also, check out my other recent reviews for 'A Town Called Panic' and 'Round Ireland With a Fridge'.

'Skeletons' review: An amiable and gently amusing British comedy...

Last week I hosted a Q&A with Nick Whitfield, the writer and director of the low budget British black comedy 'Skeletons'. The film won the Michael Powell Award for Best New British Feature Film at this year's Edinburgh International Film Festival and stars two relative unknowns, Andrew Buckley and Ed Gaughan. The duo play a pair of professionals whose job is to investigate the skeletons in their clients (literal) closet. But the pair have their own difficulties with the work, as Buckley's Bennett gets too empathetic towards his clients (whose vices range from secretive Latin dance lessons to use of prostitutes), whilst Gaughan's Davis is "on the glow" (addicted to using the procedure to revisit his own past) - a fact the duo must disguise from their boss, the Colonel, played by Jason Isaacs, in a spirited and memorable turn as a gruff Yorkshireman.

The first feature film from Whitfield, 'Skeletons' is a beneficiary of UK Film Council funding, without which the film would never have been made, according to the director. Shot on location across the Midlands, the film is primarily set in the countryside as the besuited protagonists walk from job to job. The film's best moments occur during this walking, as Davis talks about such topics as the lack of moral ambiguity surrounding Rasputin. The interplay between the two leads is funny and Gaughan in particular is really watchable. Written with the two actors in mind, the dialogue and characters are perfectly suited to these actors. The film feels something like a cross between 'Ghostbusters' and 'Alan Partridge' - mixing the spiritual and paranormal with the mundane and the regional.



There are instances where the comedy misfires slightly, with a tired, sub-Chuckle Brothers exchange of "you're unprofessional", "no you're unprofessional", "no you're being unprofessional" being among the less successful moments. But generally the film is gently amusing throughout, even if never side-splittingly hilarious. That may sound like faint praise for a comedy film, but 'Skeletons' gets along fine with these gentle laughs of approval, with its pleasant and amiable tone. It is also uncommonly ambitious and fantastical for a low budget British feature. There is no gritty, kitchen sink realism here as we plunge into territory not too dissimilar from that recently mined in Christopher Nolan's (much bigger budgeted) 'Inception': not only in its premise, but in its fascination with the nature of reality and with Davis' character mirroring DiCaprio's Dom Cobb as he finds himself haunted by the past.

It is refreshing to encounter a film of this modest means which isn't frightened to tackle the imagination and isn't afraid to get quite abstract and surreal (it is a film where an accident can turn you Bulgarian and a man can live in a rusty old landlocked boat next to a power station). With 'Skeletons' Whitfield also shows that he is not shy about combining this humour and inventiveness with genuine emotion - the film ultimately being about loss and acceptance. 'Skeletons' is not perfect, but it is a pleasing and intriguing debut film from a writer and director with a unique voice in British cinema, and perhaps it forecasts something wonderful for the future. If he can get the funding. Let us hope that the demise of the UK Film Council does not put a premature end to this emerging talent.

'Skeletons' is rated '15' by the BBFC and is still touring the country accompanied by its director, Nick Whitfield, who is doing Q&As at selected Picturehouse cinemas. A full write up on the Q&A will appear on this blog during the week.