'The Wolf of Wall Street', 'Inside Llewyn Davis', and 'August: Osage County': review round-up + A Tribute to Philip Seymour Hoffman

'The Wolf of Wall Street' - Dir. Martin Scorsese (18)

Funnier than most straight comedies, Martin Scorsese's biopic of stockbroker Jordan Belfort is consistently entertaining over its daunting three hour running length. In many ways it's very similar to 'Goodfellas', albeit following a different (less physically violent) type of criminal, but the beats are the same and the same questions remain, namely "why would somebody choose to live this life?" - with the suggestion made that we will all envy the Belfort even as we come to despise him as a human being. And despicable he is. For all the moral panic about the film failing to condemn its protagonist, Scorsese and star Leonardo DiCaprio paint a picture of a charismatic but morally bankrupt figure, ultimately without any real friends or meaningful human connections. He's an out of control, drug-addicted monster by the film's final third, punching his wife (Margot Robbie) and driving his young daughter into a wall. If you think the film doesn't make his life seem unappealing enough, or that it doesn't show the dark and sinister side of his character, then I don't know what version of the film you saw.

The performances are great across the board, with DiCaprio getting to demonstrate a deft comic timing and lightness of touch we haven't seen in years, whilst physically he's also required to do some incredible and very odd things. Yet the star performer is Jonah Hill as his business partner and supposed best friend Donnie Azoff, who owns the best moments and generates the biggest laughs in a film full of them. Matthew McConaughey is typically brilliant in what amounts to an extended cameo at the start and Kyle Chandler is similarly memorable as the straight-laced, incorruptible FBI agent seen in just a few key scenes. I also have to mention how enjoyable and inspired the casting of Rob Reiner is as Jordan's hot-tempered father - a force of nature who blusters into several key scenes to great comedic effect.

It's typically slick and punchy from beginning to end, carried briskly along by DiCaprio's playful narration and it never really stops for air. That Scorsese continues to make such dynamic, exciting and contemporary films in his 70s (long-serving editor Themla Schoonmaker is showing the likes of 'Spring Breakers' how it's done at 74) is quite something and possibly part of what makes his a unique and enduring voice.

'Inside Llewyn Davis' - Dir. Joel & Ethan Coen (15)

A slight and deceptively simple entry into the Coen canon, in the mould of the criminally underrated 'A Serious Man', Oscar Isaac stars here as the title character - a struggling folk singer, moving from couch to couch in the Greenwich Village of 1961. As he bumbles from sometime lover to casual acquaintance we're introduced to a number of strange and variously pathetic and/or unlikable characters, given life by a half-dozen impactful cameos from the likes of John Goodman, Carey Mulligan and Justin Timberlake. In the Coen tradition all of them seen to have some measure of private sadness, whether it's a hidden box of unsold records, a crippling drug problem or a decision to sell-out artistically and settle down in the suburbs. Llewyn is vaguely contemptuous of nearly all of them and yet he is simultaneously beholden to them as he endlessly rotates through his New York contacts for places to stay or people to hitch a ride with.

Llewyn is an interesting character. Superior, aloof and prideful - refusing to sell out his artistic sensibilities, living hand to mouth and playing 'real' folk music with thankless results and no commercial future. A user and a man without responsibility or attachments. Yet he is on occasion, paradoxically, upstanding and decent in his quiet way. Both humble and egotistical. Emotionally detached and yet harbouring his own grief and inner turmoil. A complex and nuanced character perfectly suited to Isaac's intelligent and introspective demeanor. He's not a hero in any sense; he's infuriating and maybe a little pretentious - but he's entirely human. The Coen's get criticised often for not liking their characters enough, but this kind of nuanced depiction of people - with all their faults and idiosyncrasy - to my mind comes from a place of empathy and understanding. I think they understand people very well, but they aren't afraid to admit that we're all basically a bit rubbish.

'August: Osage County' - Dir. John Wells (15)

I imagine a slight variation on this short conversation accounts for every single factor behind the making, distribution and ultimate viewership of 'August: Osage County': it goes "hey, Chris Cooper! We got a great part for you." "Yeah?" he replies "What's the movie about?" "Well, I'm glad you asked, Chrissy boy. It's an adaptation of a stage play about a dysfunctional mid-Western family dominated by a cruel matriarch and rocked by incest, substance abuse and general misery." "Oh, I dunno" replies Mr. Cooper "that sounds kinda interesting but I think I'll pass." "That's a shame, pal, because Meryl was personally extremely interested in you coming aboard with us." "Excuse me? Meryl?" "Yeah, didn't I mention Meryl Streep is taking the lead part?" "Oh my lord! Meryl Streep!? Where do I sign! This is going to be amazing!"

I think that's an accurate transcript of how this film came to be and the sum total explanation of why audiences are going to see it, in spite of the fact that it's a hoary old bag of cliches adding up to a glorified episode of 'Eastenders'. Though it's easy to see why Meryl Streep took the role: she's this out of control, bitchy, shouty monster of a mother, parading around in a bad wig with a drink in one hand and a fag in the other - falling over, maniacally cackling and not so much chewing the scenery as violently chomping it to within an inch of its warranty. It's a role and performance preconfigured to make audiences say "oh, how brave!" And as Meryl Streep sprints over the top, all of the other actors race to join her - most notably Julia Roberts, whose "eat the mother-fucking fish, bitch" rant rivals that bit in 'The Paperboy' (where Zac Efron, Matthew McConaughey and David Oyelowo watch Nicole Kidman masturbate) for shear "oh my god, what am I watching and is it really happening?"-ness.

There's one very nice father and son sequence between Chris Cooper and Benedict Cumberbatch, which is the closest the movie comes to feeling genuine and intimate. Then there's the film's real stand-out performance, delivered by Julianne Nicholson who plays Streep's meek and downtrodden youngest daughter with tenderness, vulnerability and genuine heart. But the rest is all histrionics and 'dark heart of the rural American family' tropes that we've all seen a thousand times before in better movies. Maybe Tracy Letts' play works better on the stage, where hammy excess is often part and parcel of the experience - but this big screen adaptation borders on ridiculous as it goes from one melodramatic family revelation to the next in all its plate-smashing pomp.

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Finally, I've been saddened by the passing of Philip Seymour Hoffman - a man who could legitimately have claimed to have been the actor of his generation. He was certainly one of my all-time favourites and I'm upset that we won't be seeing whatever he might have gone on to do as an actor and director. As an actor he was always believable and could be relied upon to be the best thing in the rare bad movie that he appeared in. He was one of those talents that elevated bad material and made great material really sing. There is no such thing as a bad Philip Seymour Hoffman performance, at least not that I've seen.

In tribute, below are some clips of my favourite of his roles.








A good scene (and great performance) from a less than great movie...

  

And one from the best film ever made...



I'm genuinely going to miss this guy.

FilmQuest 2012 (9/30): 'Goodfellas':

Until this morning I hadn't seen Martin Scorsese's 'Goodfellas': a fact many of my friends regard as some kind of crime against cinema. But, happily, filling gaps like this is exactly the reason I began my "FilmQuest 2012" column last month. My first reaction to this seminal, oft-quoted gangster film is that I'm surprised how fresh it felt. I worried it could only be a disappointment considering its legacy and pervasiveness in popular culture (the mob oeuvre in particular). I worried that I wouldn't be able to see it as something original but as one of a million 'Goodfellas' tribute acts, a bit like when I saw 'Indiana Jones' for the first time a few years ago, having seen all the best bits parodied a thousand times on 'The Simpsons'.

Yet whilst a lot of movies have affected the accents, phraseology and look of the mobsters from 'Goodfellas' - with Ray Liotta, Joe Pesci and, to some extent, Robert De Niro living in the shadow of these roles - its imitators have consistently fallen short when it comes to matching the film's historical and sociological heft. 'Goodfellas' is many things: it's a true crime story (closely based on real events), a look at the immigrant experience (Scorsese's own Sicilian routes come through in the 50s section and in the casting of both his parents in minor roles), and a plotted history of the American gangster (from small-time protection rackets to heavy-duty drug dealing). But best of all it examines the appeal of becoming a mobster (the movie star aura, the mythos, the idea of being somebody) to Liotta's impressionable, true-believer Henry, whilst also critiquing the romanticised view of who these people are (as best embodied by Coppola's 'The Godfather') through showing their ruthless disregard for human life and frail sense of loyalty.

This dichotomy is best demonstrated by the ending: as Henry (now in witness protection) bemoans his safe, average, white picket fence existence ("I'm an average nobody. I get to live the rest of my life like a schnook.") Here Scorsese cuts briefly to an idealised shot of Pesci's fallen mob enforcer Tommy DeVito who looks smart, stylish and handsome standing against a redbrick wall and shooting his handgun at the camera. This is the character as Henry remembers him, as a perfect movie star, as James Cagney: a charismatic anti-hero who didn't take shit from nobody. It's an image that sits in stark opposition to the angry, sadistic murderer whose violent unpredictability hangs over much of the film.

It's a theme which is brought into focus right away by the seeming contradiction between the opening shots of barbaric murder (a dying man being stabbed to death with a kitchen knife in the boot of a car) and the cheerfully optimistic first line of Liotta's voiceover which follows: "As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster." Scorsese sets up the horror and the reality and then goes about explaining its appeal, but without ever confusing his message and making the violence itself appealing. Whereas 'The Godfather' is sometimes poetic in its depiction of death, 'Goodfellas' never shows murder as anything other than senseless and brutal.

One strange quirk did stand out for me though: why do we get small sections of voiceover from a second narrator, Henry's wife Karen (played by Lorraine Bracco, one of many cast members subsequently seen in 'The Sopranos')? These moments are great in that they provide a female point of view in a genre where women are traditionally marginalised (as demonstrated with singular beauty by the final shot of 'The Godfather'), but wouldn't the film be a little tighter without them? Without these moments the whole thing would be consistently presented from the point of view of Henry, which makes sense because he's in almost every scene and because he ultimately breaks the fourth wall in the court room, presenting the whole film as a story he's telling (raising questions as to its reliability). I just don't think Karen's voiceover is used enough to justify its use at all.

That's a minor grievance though - and I'm not even that sure I'm right about it because, as I say, I like that there's a female voice what would otherwise be another exclusively macho film about the fraternity of violent men. It certainly doesn't detract from the film's stunning period detail and some of the finest steadicam work you'll ever see. These single-take sequences, as we're taken through nightclubs and around restaurants, stand testament to Scorsese's virtuosity and imagination.

'Hugo' review:

'Hugo' is a rare sort of film that warrants all the trite pull-quotes you read on so many posters. It's a triumph. It's spellbinding. You could even sincerely call it magical. A kids' movie that is full of sincere, cynicism-free wonder about the world and, most interestingly, the value of cinema. Here cinema takes a reverent position with one of its pioneers even afforded a central role in the plot.

As a colourful family film - and a first foray into 3D - it could be considered a departure for director Martin Scorsese, yet conversely this is perhaps the most personal film he has ever made - more closely related to documentaries like 'A Personal Journey with Martin Scorsese Through American Movies' than the hard-edged likes of 'Taxi Driver' or 'Goodfellas'.

Hugo, as played by the wide-eyed Asa Butterfield, is the director's surrogate here. He may be a young orphan living within the workings of a vast Parisian clock in the 1930s, but he sees cinema the way Scorsese does and it's through him that we bear witness to its power. To him films stir up powerful memories, recalling trips to the cinema with his late father (Jude Law) who describes cinema as a place you can see dreams in the day.



Other memories Hugo views as though part of his life's own movie, with Scorsese staging a moment of teary recollection as if his young hero were seated in a cinema, with the blue light of a projector filtering overhead. To Hugo films are not merely dreams and memories but also feats of magic. The cinema itself provides a place of comfort and a distraction from his sense of loss and loneliness. The script may call for Hugo to take the final bow, but make no mistake the cinema itself is the hero of this adventure.

After his watchmaker father is killed in a freak accident, Hugo is adopted by an alcoholic uncle (Ray Winstone) and put to work maintaining the clocks of a Paris train station, secretly living within the walls of the building. This isn't a bad fit as the boy has a gift for fixing things, taking comfort in the way machines work - though he's primarily focussed on restoring an old anthropomorphic automaton which was discovered abandoned in a museum by his father.

Years later his uncle is gone and he's an outsider, living vicariously through the station's disparate oddball inhabitants as he eagerly watches them through a network of peepholes - perhaps touching on cinema's appeal to voyeurism. The players here include Richard Griffiths, Emily Mortimer, Christopher Lee and Sacha Baron Cohen, as an overzealous station inspector determined to send him to the local orphanage, and each has their own satisfying and sweet narrative arc.



Hugo's only tangible link to the past, fixing the automaton is an obsession which leads him to steal odd parts (springs, cogs, motors) from an old toy seller on the platform (Ben Kingsley). After falling foul of this bad tempered and sorrowful old man the boy befriends his adopted daughter, Isabelle played by the again outstanding Chloë Grace Moretz, and the two of them set about unravelling the mystery of the robot. This quest proves to be something of a red herring, solved within the first half as the film heads in a very different direction, with the children becoming increasingly fascinated by cinema - for the literary-inclined Isabelle a forbidden pleasure.

They visit a library and read from early books on celluloid history, telling the film's young audience all about the earliest days of the medium. They chat with early film historian René Tabard (Michael Stuhlbarg) and learn about how silent movies were made. And Scorsese duly backs these lessons up with no small amount of footage from the films themselves, introducing his prospective young audience to the Lumière brothers' 'Sortie des Usines Lumière à Lyon' and oft-referenced 'L'Arrivée d'un train en gare de La Ciotat', before showing clips of Chaplin, Keaton and many, many others.

This second half of the film is about the medium of cinema far more than the adventures of Hugo and Isabelle, yet it's hard to find fault with that when the result is this passionate and affirmative. The cinema history lesson here is not relegated to subtext: it is the principle text. This is equally true of the subject of film preservation (Scorsese's other great passion) which goes some way toward becoming the ultimate moral of the story.



But this is also the story of 3D - which Scorsese uses majestically throughout, transporting us into the miniature world of the children as adults loom large and oppressive in an impossibly vast world. By the end he's shown us genuine colour, 3D footage of World War I and even a new stereoscopic version of Georges Méliès' seminal 1902 spectacle 'Le Voyage dans la lune' - which, incidentally, looks magnificent.

By drawing the parallel between cinema, dreams, magic tricks and machines, he makes a powerful case for gimmick as a fundamental and exciting part of cinema from the time of its inception onwards. It's the most persuasive pro-3D argument to date and - even if Scorsese never makes another movie in the format - it's clear that this technology excites and fascinates him as much as the medium itself.

'Hugo' is not the most exciting, consistent or perfectly structured children's film you'll ever see. In fact it often seems like a slick piece of educational programming rather than a fun family movie - with the slapstick chases around the station the least effective sequences. It's almost as if Scorsese has engineered a self-indulgent piece of fan fiction as a clandestine way to educate children about the art form he loves and give some of his favourite film clips a fresh airing for a new audience. But as a fellow lover of cinema I find this entirely admirable. It's heartening to see such an unabashed celebration of art.

'Hugo' is rated 'U' by the BBFC and is playing in the UK now.

My top 10 films of the 2000s...

It struck me the other day that I haven't picked my list of the top 10 films of the last decade (2000-2009). Therefore, here is a list of my favourite films of the last ten years. Note that these are the ones I enjoy the most rather than the "most significant". These films have affected me the most emotionally and given me the most pleasure over repeat viewings. There is certainly a Hollywood dominance over this list with all but two of the films being from the US. There are two Charlie Kaufman screenplays in there and two films at least co-written by Noah Baumbach.

However, the main thing I've noticed from this list is that (with the possible exception of one or two films) all these movies have protagonists many have described as unlikeable. I suppose I like flawed characters, often socially awkward, damaged people. There are plenty of them in this list from Leonardo DiCaprio as Howard Hughes to Adam Sandler as Barry Egan.

Anyway, here they are:

10) The Aviator
Martin Scorsese/USA/2004
Controversially, this is my favourite Scorsese film. DiCaprio is great as Hughes in this humanistic, non-judgemental portrait of a flawed genius now best known as a reclusive freak. There is more subtlety here than I usually associate with Scorsese (or Michael Mann who produced the film and started the project) with a detailed and slow development of Hughes' ticks and eccentricities. Also, the film is replete with immaculate period detail.


9) A Serious Man
Joel and Ethan Coen/USA/2009
A slow burner this one. I was unsure after my first viewing of this Coen Brothers' film. However, after seeing it a second time it went straight to the top of last years "best of" poll. Stage actor Michael Stuhlbarg is great in the central role as Larry Gopnik in this rich and funny film which is probably the duo's most cerebral since 'Barton Fink'.


8) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Michel Gondry/USA/2004
A brilliant screenplay which has a lot to say (as you'd expect from Charlie Kaufman) about memory, regret and human relationships. As with all Kaufman films, there is much to be sad about and plenty of bleak, somewhat depressing ideas, but the conclusion is hopeful and beautiful. The second Kaufman screenplay directed by Michel Gondry, this film is certainly an improvement on the 2001 film 'Human Nature' (which is very good, but not great).


7) Spirited Away
Hayao Miyazaki/Japan/2001
The only animation on this list, this Japanese film from Hayao Miyazaki proved that Studio Ghibli are at least as good as Pixar in terms of being the best animators in the world today. Joe Hisaishi's score is genius and compliments a really heart-warming human story in an imaginative fantasy context.


6) The Dark Knight
Christopher Nolan/USA/2008
Easily the most exciting blockbuster of the last decade, Christopher Nolan's Batman sequel is an intelligent summer movie with a top ensemble cast and jaw-dropping stunts. If Nolan makes another Batman it will easily be the film I am most excited about seeing. I'm even excited about the Superman film he is producing!


5) The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
Wes Anderson/USA/2004
All of Wes Anderson's 00's output could be on this list (but I thought that's be boring) so I struggled and chose this one because I probably find myself quoting it the most. Plus, it's really emotional at times and Murray is great as Zissou.


4) Happy-Go-Lucky
Mike Leigh/UK/2008
Mike Leigh really did something special with this one (which I wrote about recently on this blog). A terrific character study from Sally Hawkins as Poppy in a film which is as much an allegory for differing philosophies on education as anything else.


3) The Squid and the Whale
Noah Baumbach/USA/2005
I recently reviewed Noah Baumbach's latest film 'Greenberg', but before I loved that film I loved 'The Squid and the Whale'. Baumbach co-wrote 'The Life Aquatic' with Wes Anderson and Anderson returned the favour by producing this film which is note perfect in its depiction of the relationship between Jeff Daniels and Jesse Eisenberg as a pretentious father and his admiring son.


2) Adaptation
Spike Jonze/USA/2002
Before the recent films 'Kick-Ass' and Herzog's 'Bad Lieutenant' Nicolas Cage's last film to be proud of was this Spike Jonze/Charlie Kaufman (again) film in which he plays the author and his fictitious twin brother "Donald". Brian Cox is just as great in an almost film-stealing role as a screenplay writer giving a seminar on the craft. His character perfectly sums up artistic pretension (something done less well in the Kaufman directed 'Synechdoche, New York' in 2008). Also, Donald's monlogue near the end moves me to tears every time.


1) Punch-Drunk Love
Paul Thomas Anderson/USA/2002
I won't write anymore about this film as I am always going on about it. Here is my detailed retrospective look from a few weeks back.


Honourable mentions got to the following films which almost made the list. In no particular order here are 15 other great films from the last decade:
Grizzly Man (2005)
Lilo & Stitch (2002)
Up (2009)
There Will be Blood (2007)
No Country for Old Men (2007)
The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)
Y tu mamá también (2001)
Humpday (2009)
Amelie (2001)
City of God (2002)
Team America: World Police (2004)
Runnin' Down a Dream (2007)
The Motorcycle Diaries (2004)
This is England (2006)
In Bruges (2008)

'Shutter Island' review: After due consideration...

I usually review a film the same day as I watch it and I tend to form my opinions pretty quickly. But there was something about Martin Scorsese’s ‘Shutter Island’ (an adaptation of a popular Dennis Lehane novel and his fourth film in a row staring Leonardo Di Caprio) that made me want to take a couple of days out and gather my thoughts. Now that I have done that, I am able to write this review. However, I should probably start by talking about my initial feelings whilst watching the film, as to some extent they differ from my conclusions.

I should preface all my comments by saying that I happened to have four guys sitting in front of me at the cinema, and they kept talking throughout the film. They used their phones and when people asked them to stop making so much noise; they just got louder and louder. To make matters worse, the film was projected quite badly and was out of focus. These things definitely harmed my experience of ‘Shutter Island’, which started to drag in this atmosphere. However, the film must share some of the blame for my discomfort, as I was also disconnected from events by the director’s choices. I find some of Scorsese’s work to be heavy handed (the slow motion shot of a bible falling into water in ‘Gangs of New York’ has always stood out as an example of this in my mind). In ‘Shutter Island’ Scorsese overuses slow-motion and seems to be more interested in creating iconic cinematic images (worthy of an awards show spot, as in the clip above) than in servicing the story he is telling. I felt this most during the film’s many flashback and dream sequences, some of which slow the film down unnecessarily.

I was feeling this mixture of discomfort at my surroundings, irritation at some of the film’s style and boredom at its length, when I was snapped back into consciousness as the film reached its terrific final act and had me completely captivated. The final scenes are superbly executed and shed a new light on everything that has come before. Many reviewers have suggested that the plot is flimsy and that the plot twists are obvious, but I really never knew (and still don’t know) what to think about the truth on Shutter Island, which I can’t go into here. There is a pleasing ambiguity to much of the film and a real sense that everyone is supremely unreliable (including the filmmaker), more so than in any other film I can think of.

There is also a palpable sense of dread for much of the movie. The cast are generally pitch-perfect, with the possible exception of (the usually decent) Michelle Williams, who slips into horror movie cliche in her role as the protagonists deceased wife. Leonardo Di Caprio is perfect in the central role, injecting all the required intensity and hysteria into every scene, whilst Ben Kingsley is perfectly cast as the Asylum’s doctor. Robbie Robertson’s work as music supervisor also helps provide an atmosphere of foreboding, whilst early shots of the island, shown from the point of view of an approaching ferry, recall all the dread of arriving at Skull Island in ‘King Kong’.

The film is as much homage to Scorsese’s influences as anything Quentin Tarantino has directed, but with more sincerity. Many reviewers have noted that there are references to the films of Powell and Pressburger, Stanley Kubrick and Alfred Hitchcock, whilst the film also owes a sizeable debt to “guilty pleasure” cinema in the form of B movies. But whilst Tarantino’s invocation of the exploitation genre is knowing and almost kitsch, Scorsese manages to invoke a wide range of these “low-culture” movies, whilst still making his movie in complete earnest.

Overall, my current feeling on ‘Shutter Island’ is that it is a very decent film which does a really good job of leading the viewer into questioning the nature of memory and reality. It is often heavy handed and probably overlong, but the more I think about it the more I am convinced that it is an interesting piece of work about madness and the threat of violence from a director whose best work specialises in that subject matter. Whilst it is always tempting to take a recent film from a “great” filmmaker in their twilight years and dismiss it as “minor” work, I feel ‘Shutter Island’ may yet become a key film in the Scorsese canon.

I know am sure my appreciation for the film will grow on subsequent viewings (especially when I can watch it in a more comfortable environment) and I can’t wait until I get to see it again. I will certainly post here when I have done so, should my feelings on the film change. Perhaps it is ultimately fitting that my opinion of this film seems to be changing over time, with my opinion on it about it about as certain as its protagonists fragile grip on reality.

'Shutter Island' is still playing nationwide and is rated '15' by the BBFC. For an almost opposite view to mine, head over to Wrapped in Brown Paper.