'X-Men: Days of Future Past', 'Godzilla', 'The Wind Rises', '20 Feet from Stardom', 'Blue Ruin', 'Locke', 'A Story of Children and Film', and 'Tracks'

'X-Men: Days of Future Past' - Dir. Bryan Singer (12A)

Regular readers of this blog will know I'm a huge fan of the Marvel Studios movies to date, with my enthusiasm for 'Captain America: the First Avenger' and 'The Avengers', in particular, leading me to become an avid reader of the comics themselves. I like the Sam Raimi 'Spider-Man' series a lot too (even the third one, with reservations) and I even have time for Ang Lee's much-maligned 'Hulk' and, over on the DC side of things, I am overall a fan of the Christopher Nolan Batman trilogy. Yet, even though I'm of that generation that grew up with the Saturday morning cartoon series in the 90s and had parents who owned and loved an extensive collection of the Claremont/Byrne comics, I have never been a huge fan of Fox's X-Men movie franchise. The first one was pretty good - certainly better than I remember expecting it to be after seeing the title characters disappointingly decked out in unexciting black leather outfits - and its direct sequel, 2003's 'X-Men 2', was better still, but I've never been nostalgic about the series at all. And that's in spite of the fact that, with a couple of exceptions, the casting has always been superb.

That cast is probably why the series has limped on within the same continuity for over a decade now, even after the third entry 'X-Men: the Last Stand' killed off several main characters and pissed fans off by being completely terrible in almost every way: how do you recast Ian McKellan as Magneto or Patrick Stewart as Professor Xavier? To say nothing of the fact that Hugh Jackman, a near unknown when he was first cast in 2000, practically is Wolverine. The solution was to go backwards a few years ago with 'X-Men: First Class' (which most seemed to love and I completely hated bar its, again, exceptional casting), keeping the option open of making more Jackman Wolverine movies (2013's 'The Wolverine' was legitimately pretty great, whilst 2009's 'X-Men Origins: Wolverine' is best left forgotten) and enabling the recasting of key roles without inviting the same unkind comparisons that might have persisted had it been a straight-up reboot.

Now, seven movies in to Fox's X-Men movie franchise, they've finally made one I unequivocally love. Bryan Singer, who helmed the first two movies, returned to the director's chair to tell a very X-Men story: one involving not only the comic book series' staple of time travel but also spinning a tale specifically designed to address and repair perceived to an increasingly elaborate and inconsistent continuity. Put that way, 'X-Men: Days of Future Past', which is loosely based on a classic Chris Claremont and John Byrne story, is possibly the most comic book movie ever. The series that once felt the need to make jokes about heroes wearing "yellow spandex" has now fully embraced the madness of comic books and I couldn't have had a bigger smile on my face whilst watching it. Especially at the ending, because here's the thing: Singer and writer Simon Kinberg have done it.

They have fixed the X-Men movie franchise and in a classy way that makes it possible to make new movies with the 'First Class' cast (primarily James McAvoy, Michael Fassbender and Jennifer Lawrence) without fear of bumping into any of the old baggage that once lay in the way. It's a smart movie that celebrates the past, but definitively makes way for the future. It's a rare sequel/prequel that actually elevates everything that came before and makes it all seem, finally, like it all sort of makes a certain fuzzy kind of sense. I like problem movies, which is to say movies which seem to have set themselves a problem and solved it. It's partly why I liked Joss Whedon's 'Avengers' as much as I do. By all rights that movie should have been a huge mess: too many characters to juggle, too many egos on set, too much extended universe baggage to make it appeal to new audience members - yet it all clicked into place.

The same applies to 'Days of Future Past' in that this movie seems to have been conceived as a way to address continuity mistakes and to help rejuvenate and reboot the franchise. It's a placeholder movie, paving the way for new stories with a couple of hours of energetic rebuilding work, basically. Yet it also works on its own terms somehow, and is fast-paced, fun and contains terrific fight scenes not matched by any X-Men movie and, possibly, by any superhero movie to date. For the first time I'm excited to see a new X-Men movie. In fact, now I'm excited to see the recently announced Channing Tatum Gambit movie. It's not often movie number seven is the best in the franchise, but Fox's X-Men just got really good and it only took about 15 years to get there. Oh, and Quicksilver is awesome.

'Godzilla' - Dir. Gareth Edwards (12A)

Can't talk about this one without a mild SPOILER that won't be a surprise to anyone who's seen the more recent trailers, but some may want to avoid until they've seen the film.


The obvious way to reboot 'Godzilla' for a modern audience would be to re-tell that great original story from Ishiro Honda's 1954 classic, with all its post-war nuclear paranoia and pitch-perfect melodrama, as scientists work against hope to prevent the gigantic scaley metaphor from wiping out humanity one city at a time. He emerges from the sea, we get terrified, he fights the army, we somehow beat him back, the end. That first movie is popularly acknowledged to be the best of a series that, depending on who's counting, now extends to around 40 entries all sticking to a tried and tested formula which typically sees Godzilla fighting other giant kaiju whilst we humans look on helplessly. It's a "proper movie" that still holds up, in other words, whilst the sequels went the way of 'Rocky'. So it's fascinating to me that Gareth Edwards, director of DIY critical darling 'Monsters', has effectively bypassed this obvious route to respectability and gone straight into this prospective franchise in the spirit of those sequels. It's a weird choice but he more or less pulls it off with an entertaining monster smash-up even if it's not the more grounded and cerebral film many were expecting.

Godzilla is, charitably, a supporting player here, arriving around the hour mark and seldom seen until the big final showdown in which he rescues hopeless humanity from no less than two other gigantic terrors, after which he is declared the "king of monsters" by the TV news and celebrated in the streets. He's not the main hero and nor is he the epic antagonist, but instead serves as an elemental force of nature who sweeps in and, as Ken Watanabe's scientist has it, "restores balance" when things are at their bleakest. Until that happens we have to make do with a bunch of really good actors with varying degrees of little to do (Elizabeth Olsen, Juliette Binoche, Sally Hawkins, Brian Cranston, David Strathairn) and a lot of Aaron Taylor-Johnson as a military guy who, for one reason or another, follows the monsters around the world, acting as witness to a lot of city destruction and a number of futile US military attempts to thwart the beasts.

It lacks a little on the human side, but one thing Edwards' movie gets spectacularly right is the special effects on the monsters, which pull of that difficult trick (notoriously hard with CGI) of giving the creatures weight and scale. These are impressive things that easily dwarf aircraft carriers and skyscrapers. One of the most fun aspects of this movie is that Godzilla and his kaiju cousins are completely indifferent to us, only attacking when we get in their way, something best shown by scenes which show the American navy travelling alongside Godzilla as he makes his way inland. He could smash them up in moments were he bothered, but we're insects to him - which is probably the clearest way the film retains any of the original's fear of destructive forces outside of our control. Despite the cheering at the end, there is little indication that Godzilla has gone out of his way to save humanity, just that his vague objective matched up with our own this time around.

Far from perfect and not as complete or fully realised a vision as last year's more ambitious and imaginative 'Pacific Rim', Edwards' latest monster movie is a strange inverse of his last one: great at delivering epically sized beasts laying waste to civilization in suitably entertaining ways and a little bit shoddy when it comes to character work. Perhaps if a supporting player like Bryan Cranston were the star instead of the bland Taylor-Johnson then things would be very different, but as it stands this is a film that has just enough thrills to make you forgive its shortcomings.

'The Wind Rises' - Dir. Hayao Miyazaki (PG)

Supposedly representing the final film from legendary writer/director Hayao Miyazaki, co-founder of Japanese animation powerhouse Studio Ghibli, 'The Wind Rises' is a relatively low-key affair which serves partly as a biopic of aircraft engineer Jiro Horikoshi - designer of the famous 'Zero' fighter plane during the Second World War - and, oddly enough, also as a loose adaptation of a short story by Tatsuo Hori called The Wind Has Risen, which concerns a woman suffering from tuberculosis. It's a strange blend, especially as it means half the story (the part concerning Jiro's love for his sickly wife Naoko, which becomes increasingly pronounced in the final third) bares no obvious correlation with the life of the person the film is directly about, but it works in injecting what might have been a fairly dry tale about an aviation pioneer with the heart and romanticism associated with the filmmaker.

In almost every Miyazaki film to date his passion for machines, engines and, especially, aircraft has loomed large - most notably in 'Castle in the Sky' and 'Porco Rosso' but also visible in the joy of flight experienced on the catbus of 'My Neighbour Totoro' or the broom in 'Kiki's Delivery Service' - so in many ways, though it is less fantastical and magical (and it does still have those qualities stylistically), 'The Wind Rises' does have the air of a great passion project and represents an extremely personal sign-off. In the dream sequences, which are many, Miyazaki indulges his childish imagination, creating wondrous and impossible aircraft and contriving to have two of his heroes converse in what is ultimately aviation hobbyist fan fiction, as Jiro regularly checks in with the Italian airplane designer Giovanni Caproni, who forms his imaginary mentor. Miyazaki's obsessions enter the film in other ways too, with Jiro's drive and single-minded dedication to pursuing his chosen profession, perhaps at the expense of his personal life, another recurring theme.

At its core it's a film about choosing to pursue your creative dream even if it might be appropriated for nefarious purposes. Some have criticised the director for not going far enough to address the fact that Horikoshi ultimately designed efficient engines of war and destruction which were quickly put to devastating purpose in expanding the Empire of Imperial Japan - and it is fair to say he doesn't admonish Jiro for anything more severe than maybe not paying his (fictionalised) ailing wife enough attention. That said, given some of that negative reaction I was surprised how much the oncoming war underpins the entire film from its opening dream sequence (interrupted by bombs and destruction) to it's bittersweet final moments as Jiro finally perfects his plane only to be suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of what it will be use for next.

I'd argue Miyazaki effectively creates an air of menace and unease for most of the running time, with the foreshadowing of the coming destruction keenly felt during a haunting portrayal of the Great Kanto earthquake of 1923, as it levels Tokyo amidst an eerie sense of calm and quiet resignation of defeat in the face of a greater power - one of the greatest sequences he's ever conceived. The anti-war theme also comes to the fore in Jiro's dreams and the question of whether to "live in a world with or without pyramids", as Caproni puts it to him, is central. Then there's the kindly German traveller who (voiced to great effect by Werner Herzog in the English language dub) speaks gravely about the great evils being perpetuated by Japan's Nazi allies in Europe and who is suddenly forced to flee from the secret police. Ultimately this distaste for (though never outright rejection of) war is what sours Jiro's greatest achievement.

As you'd expect by now, the animation is peerless and beautiful, rendered all the more majestic by Joe Hisaishi's sweeping score. Miyazaki always nails small character moments and this film is no exception, from the effortless poetry of Naoko pulling her quilt over the sleeping Jiro as he rests at her side to his light and joyful depiction of something as simple as a paper airplane drifting on a breeze or a group of kids squeezing cartoonishly into the narrow confines of a giant biplane. Without much in the way of conflict to power the narrative, or anything like the fantasy of 'Howl's Moving Castle', 'Spirited Away' or 'Princess Mononoke', this is a film of small moments and wonderful details, no less joyful than those he's given us in the past. He threatened retirement in the past and then came back with some of his most celebrated work, so here's hoping this isn't the last of Hayao Miyazaki. But, if it is, this personal and intimate film is a great way to go.

'20 Feet from Stardom' - Dir. Morgan Neville (12A)

Controversially taking the Best Documentary Oscar earlier this year when it beat the fancied critical favourite 'The Act of Killing', '20 Feet from Stardom' may not be as exceptional a film in terms of form or content, but it's still a very entertaining doc, especially for those with a predilection for the girl groups of the 50s and 60s. The great Darlene Love is probably the best known of the film's subjects, as it explores the careers of remarkable singers (more often than not black women) who found themselves, for one reason or another, working as back-up rather than making the breakthrough as solo acts. There's all the expected VH1 Behind the Music style accounts of the highs and lows of fame and fortune, as some make it and others fall into obscurity and even out of music altogether, but it's pretty shallow when it comes to insight and is far from a definitive account of any era or artist. The main reason to watch is to see and hear these brilliant singers given a long overdue spotlight, and to learn anecdotes about their careers in music which saw them working behind everyone from Ray Charles to Stevie Wonder via Springsteen and Bowie.

'Blue Ruin' - Dir. Jeremy Saulnier (15)

With a low budget crowd-funded on Kickstarter and a very slight plot, 'Blue Ruin' is a taut thriller that mostly gets by on atmosphere, with the camera often uncomfortably close to Dwight (Macon Blair) who, when we first meet him, is a soft-spoken, reclusive vagrant - apparently sleep-walking through the past several years of his life in a traumatised stupor and living on a beach in a rusted, blue Pontiac. This changes when a local cop informs him that the man who killed his parents is due to be released from prison, prompting Dwight to start moving with a zombie-like single-mindedness on a quest for revenge. He starts up his old car, gets himself a gun, and heads out on a path of endless and empty ultra-violence with no clear winners.

Whilst clearly relishing the imaginatively executed scenes of violence, and clearly taking influence from the black humour and dark-hearted menace of early Coen Brothers movies, director Jeremy Saulnier also makes revenge seem appropriately childish. His baby-faced protagonist seems stuck in infanthood after losing his parents and seems perpetually afraid and incompetent, as opposed to cool and in control, a fact which serves as a nice counterpoint to the place revenge now seems to occupy in media in a post-Tarantino world. He gets his guns from a similarly childish old school friend, who displays a juvenile male's love of firearms and murder that is without conscience or understanding of consequence. That's not to say Saulnier isn't perhaps having his cake and eating it, with part of the thrill of 'Blue Ruin' definitely coming from the well-crafted scenes of death and violence, but it's an interesting and welcome aspect and one which elevates this interesting film above the crowd.

'Locke' - Dir. Steven Knight (15)


A masterclass in terms of showing what you can achieve with one (admittedly world class) actor and a tight, disciplined screenplay, 'Locke' is literally a film in which Tom Hardy drives down a British motorway for around an hour and a half, juggling problems at home and work on his phone. It begins with him getting into his family car in Birmingham and ends with him taking an exit ramp off the M40 and, though hugely important to Hardy's Ivan Locke and to the disembodied voices we hear on the other end of his carphone, the problems he faces are refreshingly down to earth. If given a small budget, one actor, and the brief to make a film entirely set in a moving car, it would be tempting to inject high-octane drama by making, say, something about a man with a bomb on his backseat who is having to deal with terrorists as he drives against the clock to rescue his wife and kids - but Locke gets a lot out of far less. It's consistently tense and thoroughly gripping even though it's about a man who's simply trying to get to resolve marital problems whilst also trying to co-ordinate what we're told is the "biggest concrete pour in Europe" (outside of military and nuclear). High stakes on both fronts, but on a relatable, human scale.

The only criticism I have of 'Locke' is that some of the voices on the other end of the phone sound theatrical and exaggerated rather than naturalistic, which is jarring when Hardy's adopted Welsh accent comes across as conversational and a little more nuanced, which has the effect of making it feel like the two sides of the conversation are coming from different films. Though that's a minor quibble at most because Hardy delivers a central performance that is captivating from beginning to end, even as/especially when he monologues about the minutiae urban planning and the construction industry in great detail. In fact his Alan Partridge-like fixation on pedantic, humdrum details lends the film a lot of humour even as you find yourself on the edge of your seat wondering if he can get the council to approve a vital 'stop and go' on a minor road at short notice.

'A Story of Children and Film' - Dir. Mark Cousins (PG)

In the vein of his celebrated television series 'The Story of Film: An Odyssey', critic-turned-filmmaker Mark Cousins turns his encyclopedic knowledge of cinema onto films from around the world depicting children, shining a spotlight on a number of little-seen gems and forgotten classics along the way. Using footage of his young niece and nephew playing in his front room as a sort of framing device, he identifies what he thinks are true expressions of childhood on camera and then uses films - ranging from the blockbuster 'E.T' to Iran's 'The White Balloon' and the Albanian 'Tomka and His Friends' - to illustrate how these traits and ideas have best been depicted on film.

It's as much a celebration of cinema and childhood as it is a work of criticism and film history, with the definite article in the title of his aforementioned series replaced with a more subjective 'A' this time around. Admittedly, some of the links Cousins draws between the films feel like a stretch (I'm still not sure what his segways to the art of Van Gogh have to do with anything) but it's primarily made up of clips from some truly beautiful films, presented here with an enthusiasm to match the intellect.

'Tracks' - Dir. John Curran (12A)

The based-on-a-true-story tale of one young woman's nine month trek across the best part of 2,000 miles of inhospitable Australian desert, from the Northern Territory town of Alice Springs to the Indian Ocean on the west coast, John Curran's 'Tracks' struggles to convey a sense of either time or distance. Like many walking films before it, such as Peter Weir's 'The Way Back' or even John Hillcoat's adaptation of 'The Road', the great swathes of land covered by the protagonist are lost in the edit in the name of brevity, with the film instead taking us from incident to incident - which seems antithetical to the nature of the story being told. The ever-watchable Mia Wasikowska plays Robyn Davidson as a loner who prefers the company of animals to people, yet the film - even with frequent flashbacks to a traumatic childhood - never really gets to the heart of why that is, or why it is she decides upon this arbitrary and extremely dangerous goal.

We don't really even get to see her deal with isolation for any great stretch of time, as the film bumps Robyn into numerous people seemingly every other scene - from Adam Driver's well-meaning photojournalist to empathetic aboriginal elders and bemused white settlers. It's ultimately a movie hamstrung by an apparent belief that the only way to advance the story or develop its central character is through dialogue and contrived drama. I can't help but imagine Robyn Davidson's months in the outback must have, in truth, consisted of very little of either. Her biggest struggle, perhaps after ensuring a reliable supply of drinkable water, must have been against boredom and madness. This should have been a tale of remoteness, quiet self-reflection and perseverance, but what we have instead is a fairly conventional romance story about a woman who just needs to learn to let people in, principally by learning to love Driver's manic pixie dream-boy.

'From Up On Poppy Hill', 'Only God Forgives' and 'Blackfish': review round-up

Not seen a lot of movies of late, but here's a round-up of some recent cinema trips. I won't review 'Red 2' (above) - because I only saw the first half - but thought I'd mention the fact that it was (from what I saw) so empty, lifeless and insipid that it was the catalyst for my second ever walk-out. Everyone, most especially Bruce Willis, was just going through the motions. Mary Louise Parker was watchable enough, but the constant misogynistic comments about her from Willis ("you don't give the girl a gun!" and "you don't bring the girl along on a mission!"), whose character talks about her to others constantly whilst she's standing right there, were grating to say the least. I'm sure Willis' character learns some valuable lesson about trust and/or sharing by the film's end, but I couldn't face another 45 minutes waiting for a grown-up to learn that women are people too. Anyway, it just wasn't funny, it was really slow, the action was deathly boring and at one point there was a lingering close-up of a tube of Pringles. There are obviously worse films, but very few are this lacklustre.

The first film I ever walked out of? Since you asked, I couldn't stomach Richard Curtis' interminable 'The Boat That Rocked' - even though I had been allowed to watch it whilst on the clock at a cinema. I was having such a bad time with that one that I left to go and Brasso some door handles instead. One major reason for this was that I'd just encountered a comic scene in which a man committed statutory rape - sneaking into bed with a woman in the dark, pretending to be her partner (which I felt was less "cheeky" than it was "creepy" and "sexual assaulty"). But the main reason was that I checked my watch, expecting to be halfway through this 135 minute epic, to find I'd been sat there for only half an hour. Just over an hour and a half left to go! No thanks, Curtis. No thanks.

'From Up On Poppy Hill' - Dir. Goro Miyazaki (U)

A colleague of mine aptly described this one as "minor Ghibli", and it certainly is one of the less significant entries in the Japanese animation house's filmography, but that's not to say it isn't entirely pleasant from start to finish. It's gentle, charming and life-affirming without being overly cheesy. It's also a damn sight better than director Goro Miyazaki's (son of Hayao) first attempt following his move from landscaping to filmmaking: the uncharacteristically dull and unpolished 'Tales From Earthsea' - sections of which felt like limited TV animation and a far cry from the finesse of 'Spirited Away' or 'My Neighbour Totoro'. The animation here is much better, though still not up there with the work Miyazaki senior or Isao Takahata, Ghibli's other master - responsible for the studio's most mature (less magical) works 'Only Yesterday' and 'Grave of the Fireflies'.

'Poppy Hill' - adapted from a 1980 manga by Tetsurō Sayama and Chizuru Takahashi - is a wistful and nostalgic 60s-set story about two school kids who fall in love only to find that they are likely brother and sister: both having the same sea-faring father, who perished during the Korean War. This small-scale character-driven plot runs against the backdrop of more typically active movie fare, as the kids try to organise the student body to persuade the authorities not to demolish the old clubhouse and replace it with a newer building, in a rapidly developing Japan looking to eradicate reminders of its recent history. The clubhouse - home to a myriad of wacky extra-curricular activities, all taken extremely seriously by the student body - is reminiscent of something out of Wes Anderson's 'Rushmore' and is as fun a place to be as that suggests.

Perhaps the story reaches an all-to-sudden and convenient conclusion in the last few minutes, but it's genuine and heartfelt and difficult to be too cynical about. Filler until the next big Miyazaki masterpiece, maybe, but there are less winsome ways to spend an hour and a half.

'Only God Forgives' - Dir. Nicolas Winding Refn (18)

Hmmmmmmmm. And there I was thinking the last collaboration between Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn and star Ryan Gosling was all style and no substance. Well, say what you will about the hipster-baiting self-styled "instant cult classic" 'Drive', but compared to 'Only God Forgives' it's a nuanced character study and a hi-octane crime thriller of the highest order. This one sees Gosling play an American living in Bangkok, who runs a boxing club and whose nose is put very slightly out of joint when a cop allows a victim's father to kill his murderous rapist brother. The main thing you need to know about this character is that he looks pretty good in a suit - choosing to fight whilst dressed like a particularly trendy barista.

At my weary, bored-to-tears best estimate, around 80% of 'Only God Forgives' consists of Gosling sitting in the semi-darkness, staring into the middle distance, somewhere off camera (a friend suggested somebody on-set was waving something colourful) emoting nothing at all. Ignoring the bit where he shouts at a prostitute in a slightly weedly and accidentally comic way, his acting range in this film goes between expressions of acute indifference all the way up to moderate contemplation. There's a method writers employ to assess whether their characters are fully formed which requires them to be able to describe any given character without mentioning the way they dress or what they do for a living. Try doing that here, with any of the characters, and get back to me if you manage it. And "has penis-envy of his brother and wants to fuck his mum" doesn't count, because the film just outright, explicitly tells us that (several times) via Kristen Scott-Thomas in her ground-breaking against-type role as middle-aged-women-who-says-cunt.

Vithaya Pansringarm plays a brutal cop that many are calling the highlight of the movie, but this is another non-character. Or at least it's a movie stock character: a walking cliché - the violent killer with a code, whose capacity for ultra-violence sits in contrast to a peculiar affectation and/or hobby (in this instance karaoke). This character has been in every Quentin Tarantino film ever made, for instance. Where the film appears to think it has something to say is in relation to the Oedipus complex: it's all tracking shots down red hallways, Gosling's disgustingly literal urge to return to the womb, his apparent lust for his mother and the detail that he apparently murdered his father. But what the film is saying about all this is beyond me. In 'The Man Who Wasn't There' ace lawyer Freddy Riedenschneider tries to bamboozle a jury by claiming they should not look at the facts but the meaning behind the facts, and that the facts have no meaning. He might as well have been reviewing 'Only God Forgives'.

As a visual/sensory exercise though, it's obviously a piece of world-class work - the stuff of a real virtuoso. As with 'Drive' and 'Bronson' (the one Refn film I uncomplicatedly like) before it, 'Only God Forgives' shows Refn as a supremely visual storyteller and a real stylist. I eagerly await the next time these qualities once again combine with the urge to tell an actual story of some substance.

'Blackfish' - Dir. Gabriela Cowperthwaite (15)

I write this every time I review a documentary, but it's difficult to separate what you think of the film's point of view from the quality of the film itself. Especially when said film is such a polemic, highlighting facts and cherry-picking interview subjects to arrive at a previously determined conclusion (however valid said conclusion might be). In this case, I overwhelmingly agree with the basic premise of and majority of the arguments in 'Blackfish': for what it's worth, I think the process of gathering cetaceans for commercial use is cruel and the evidence seems to suggest that life in captivity is detrimental to the animals' well-being.

That said, I don't think 'Blackfish' says anything that 2009's 'The Cove' didn't say far better and in a more slick and cinematic way that better delivers that point to an audience. 'The Cove' also looks at the subject in a much broader way - considering international whaling lobbyists, the anti-whaling movement and other things - whereas 'Blackfish' looks at SeaWorld very specifically. Aside from specific accounts of incidents at SeaWorld parks, involving the injury and death of employees working with orcas, I didn't find it particularly illuminating. It also takes a lot of things for granted and doesn't hold its subjects, mostly former SeaWorld employees, up to any amount of scrutiny. For instance, non-scientists make statements such as "scientists are reluctant to say whales have language but it's clear they have language" which go wholly unsubstantiated in the film and, at one point, one of the most vocal collaborators confesses "I know nothing about whales".

For those in the dark about the issues raised here, it may be a far better and more effective piece of filmmaking than I found it to be. It's a laudable and worthy film, for sure - and I hope a lot of people see it, as it could do some tangible good in the world (apparently it's already caused Pixar to re-write the end of their 'Finding Nemo' sequel) - it doesn't tell you anything you couldn't glean from skim-reading a couple of Wikipedia articles. However, it should perhaps be required viewing for those thinking of visiting a SeaWorld water park.

'Arrietty' review:

Studio Ghibli, the beloved Japanese animation house behind 'Spirited Away', 'Grave of the Fireflies' and 'Ponyo', have had two directors to thank for their artistic and commercial success. Isao Takahata and Hayao Miyazaki have, between them, accounted for twelve of the studio's sixteen theatrical features (thirteen of seventeen if you count the latter's 'Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind': pre-Ghibli but now considered part of the canon). In the last ten years, increasing concern that both men are in their seventies has seen the studio push younger talent into the spotlight, usually with a noticeable drop in quality.

Hiroyuki Morita's 'The Cat Returns' was a made-for-TV movie which ended up receiving a cinema release in order to cash in on the runaway international success of 'Spirited Away' back in 2002. It's a charming and watchable film but it doesn't hold a candle to 'Whisper of the Heart', the film of which it is a nominal sequel. That under-appreciated gem, written and storyboarded by Miyazaki, was another attempt to get young blood to take over in the mid-90s - but it came to nothing when promising director Yoshifumi Kondō died of an aneurysm at 47. The real nadir of this quest to replace Miyazaki was reached in 2006, when producer Toshio Suzuki convinced the great master's son Gorō to give up his career in landscaping to direct the awful 'Tales From Earthsea'. Yet long-serving animator Hiromasa Yonebayashi has provided a ray of hope, directing 'Arrietty': a delightfully pleasant and beautifully detailed adaptation of The Borrowers.



As you may have guessed from the film's source text, 'Arrietty' follows the adventures of a family of "borrowers" - folkloric little people who live between the walls and beneath the floorboards of houses, keeping just out of sight of "human beans". However 13 year-old Arrietty, the precocious and determined daughter of the family, gets seen by a sickly young boy named Shō and her parents decide it's best to uproot and find a new home. But not before the the maid of the house, the creepy and slightly mad Haru, discovers their presence and calls in the exterminators. Along the way Arrietty also contends with insects, birds and a mangy old cat.

Chief among the film's accomplishments is the great sense of scale Yonebayashi maintains, as borrowers interact with (to them) enormous everyday objects and animals. Scale is considered a notoriously difficult challenge within animation circles, there is consistently a sense of awe - most memorably when the girl enters the human kitchen for the first time (her hair rising with her spirit in the established Miyazaki tradition). The characters' use of mundane objects, such as earrings and sellotape, is also really fun to watch and terrifically inventive.



It isn't exactly at the hi-octane end of the Ghibli spectrum, being a slowly paced and gentle yarn rather than an epic in the mould of 'Princess Mononoke'. Though it nevertheless held my attention from its enchanting beginning to bittersweet conclusion, mostly thanks to some of the most elegant, neatly observed character animation in the history of the studio and some breathtaking backdrops. I suppose it's style over substance, though 'Earthsea' had neither so I'm loathe to be too critical. One crucial absentee here is veteran tunesmith Joe Hisaishi whose scores never fail to invoke a sense of grandeur and earnest emotion. French singer Cécile Corbel instead provides the film's music which is chintzy and all too fay.

'Arrietty' is a work of promise. Yet, as promising as the film is, the studio aren't quite out of the woods yet. Miyazaki played an active role in shaping the project, even co-writing the screenplay which is riddled with his DNA - from the goggles on the father's head to the resolve of the titular heroine. But Ghibli's youngest feature director, Yonebayashi has really given a measure of hope to fans that the animation institution can outlive the two old men. It's as pleasing on the eye as anything Studio Ghibli has made and the story, though slight, is as innocently joyful a way as you can spend 94 minutes at the movies.

'Arrietty' is out now in the UK, rated 'U' by the BBFC.

Studio Ghibli Blu-rays

I just posted a couple of Studio Ghibli Blu-ray reviews up on Obsessed with Film:

Laputa: Castle in the Sky
My Neighbours the Yamadas

These two films are interesting to view alongside each other for a number of reasons. Most obviously, they represent work by both of Ghibli's key animation directors - Hayao Miyazaki having made 'Castle in the Sky' and Isao Takahata helming 'My Neighbours the Yamadas'. Another reason for their significance is that the two films differ wildly in terms of the form the animation takes. The former is a slightly more traditional anime, albeit with Miyazaki's unique sensibilities, whilst the latter is highly stylised, resembling a newspaper cartoon strip brought to life. The latter was also produced using computers, whilst 'Castle' is a traditional hand-drawn film. Finally, they were both made at nearly opposite ends of the studio's chronology. Miyazaki's film was the first to be released under the Ghibli banner back in 1985, whereas 'Yamadas' came out almost fifteen years later.

In any case, check out those reviews (and buy the Blu-rays) if you've any interest in animation as an art form.

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)

10 directors who excite me now...

Don’t know why I fancied writing about this today, but here are my top 10 active filmmakers. I don’t mean the “top 10 greatest living directors”, but rather, this is a list of directors whose work I am still excited by and always eagerly anticipate. Of course, the best living directors could include people whose powers have long since diminished: Woody Allen, Steven Spielberg and Jean-Luc Goddard could all be considered “great” directors, but when was their last “great” film? Yes, these guys can still make good films: Woody Allen releases one good film a year, generally. But however good ‘You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger’ is, chances are it won’t hold a candle to ‘Manhattan’ or ‘Annie Hall’, in the same way that ‘The Terminal’ and ‘Munich’ aren’t destined to be remembered as being up there with ‘Jaws’ and ‘ET’.

Of course, this doesn’t mean to say that the next Spielberg film won’t be a classic, but it’s all about expectations, isn’t it? And as far as Spielberg is concerned: unless it’s a fourth Jurassic Park movie, I’m not interested.

I also haven’t included Armando Iannucci (‘In the Loop’), Chris Morris (‘Four Lions’) or Martin McDonagh (‘In Bruges’), because although their films are probably some of the most exciting I have seen in the last few years (and I eagerly await their next efforts) I want to focus on directors whose films have consistently dazzled me. Anyway, with that proviso, on with the list (in no particular order)…

Wes Anderson
My favourite film: 'Bottle Rocket' (1996)

Wes Anderson is possibly my favourite current director. I have never been left disappointed by one of his films (though I know many didn't like 'Life Aquatic' or 'Darjeeling Limited' overly). I love how good-natured his movies are and how the portagonists are vulnerable and childish people, fond of being in teams and of being liked. Anderson's films aren't cynical and they exist as a celebration of life and of colour. I feel moved and uplifted by scenes in all his films to date and whatever his next project after the splendid stop-frame animation 'The Fantastic Mr. Fox', I am very excited.

The Coen Brothers
My favourite film: 'The Big Lebowski' (1998)

A slightly more complicated relationship exists between me and the Coen's, but only slightly. This is only reasonable though: they have made many more films than Wes Anderson after all. Basically, they had a bad patch with 'Intolerable Cruelty' (2003) and 'The Ladykillers' (2004), the latter being a god-awful remake of a genuine classic Ealing comedy, and wisely took a few years off to return in a blaze of glory with the Oscar-winning 'No Country for Old Men' in 2007. Now they are following up my favourite movie of last year ('A Serious Man') with another remake (although they insist it's more of an adaptation of the book than a remake) as they prepare to release 'True Grit' this December. Jeff Bridges (the Dude himself) is taking on John Wayne's own Oscar-winning role as Rooster Cogburn and I am pretty excited. After all, 'No Country' was, for all intents and purposes, a modern Western and it was incredible. I have faith.

Anything written by Charlie Kaufman
My favourite film: 'Adaptation' (2002)

The only writer on this list (although he did direct 'Synechdoche, New York' himself), Kaufman, in his work with Spike Jonze ('Being John Malkovich' and 'Adaptation') and Michel Gondry ('Human Nature' and 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind') has proven himself a genius time and time again. All his films have endless replay value for me, and each time I learn a little more about them. They are probably the most endlessly rewarding films ever made.

Christopher Nolan
My favourite film: 'The Dark Knight' (2008)

Here's a man who has never steered me wrong (so far)! It is a close three-way tie for his best film ('Memento' and 'The Prestige' are just as good as 'The Dark Knight') but his second Batman film excited me the most of all of them. My favourite superhero movie and the first/last time I really got excited at stunts and set-pieces in the last ten years of cinema. I love it! 'Inception' (due out very soon) looks... interesting (the trailer gives almost nothing away), but I have no reason to doubt that Nolan will deliver again.

Hayao Miyazaki
My favourite film: 'My Neighbour Totoro' (1988)

The best living animator. That's all I have to say. 'Ponyo' was great and whatever he makes next will be great. Sorry if that doesn't sound objective, but his films move me and excite me. Like Wes Anderson, there is an innocence and naivety about his work which is charming but never twee. Just too good. Soon he will retire, but I hope we get a few more classics yet.

Werner Herzog
My favourite film: 'My Best Fiend' (1999)

What can I say about the insane genius that is Herzog? Whilst I did enjoy the likes of 'Rescue Dawn' and 'Bad Lieutenant', I proberly prefer his documentaries these days. I suppose that's mainly because he narrates them and because he never tackles any subject matter in a traditional way. When he films penguins it is to find their inherent madness and obsurdity. One of my favourites is a short from 1977 called 'La Soufrière', in which he travels to a volcano that is about to errupt and films it up close, with no regard for his own safety. I am looking forward to whatever he does next, as well as a UK release of 'My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done?'.

Paul Thomas Anderson
My favourite film: 'Punch-Drunk Love' (2002)

This guy is just amazing. 'Punch-Drunk Love' is possibly my favourite film of all time and 'There Will Be Blood' (2007) is right up there too. Then we have 'Magnolia' (1999), 'Boogie Nights' (1997) and 'Hard Eight' (1996). Basically he is like no one else, visually and in terms of the way he tells a story. 'Punch-Drunk Love' and 'There Will Be Blood' unite the music and the image like nothing else I've seen. His next film is getting me very excited indeed, especially as 'The Master' stars Phillip Seymour Hoffman.

Takeshi Kitano
My favourite film: 'Hana-bi' (1997)

Probably best known here as the presenter of 'Takeshi's Castle', an odd Japanese gameshow, or as the sinister, evil bloke at the start of 'Battle Royale', but Takeshi 'Beat' Kitano is an institution in his native land. A stand-up comic, turned actor, turned award winning, internationally recognised director. He can do anything, from straight police thrillers like 'Violent Cop' and 'Sonatine', to slapstick comedy in 'Getting Any?' (maybe the maddest film ever), to the more poignant, festival friendly 'Hana-bi' (which won the Golden Lion in Venice in 2007), establishing him as the most internationally relevant Japanese filmmaker since Kurosawa. He also tackled the long-running 'Zatoichi' franchise in 2003, making a damn fine samurai film too. I am yet to see his 'Takeshis' trilogy (released 2005, 2007 and 2008 to bad reviews) which is more autobiograhical, but I am excited to see his latest film 'Outrage', which played at Cannes.

Brad Bird
My favourite film: 'The Iron Giant' (1999)

The second animator on my list (although his next film is 'Mission Impossible 4' in live-action), Brad Bird caught my attention with 'The Iron Giant', an overlooked Warner Brothers animation. That film has such loving attention to detail it is perhaps the best non-Disney, American feature animation ever. He then went on to work for the great PIXAR and made 'The Incredibles' (my second favourite superhero film) and 'Ratatouille' (which also ain't bad). I am not super enthused to see 'MI4', but I would like to see whether he takes a unique visual style into live-action, like animators Burton and Gilliam have in the past. Could be interesting.

George Lucas
My favourite film: 'Star Wars' (1977)

A real wild card pick here! Since 1971's 'THX 1138', George Lucas (a peer of Spielberg, Milius, Coppola, Scorcese and De Palma) has made just five films as a director. 'American Graffiti' (1973) is a classic that inspired many immitators (not to mention the TV show 'Happy Days') and launched the career of Ron Howard (Lucas also gave Howard his first directorial job with 'Willow'). Then he made 'Star Wars' in 1977 and everything changed, for Hollywood movies and for Lucas. He didn't direct the sequels, or his 'Indiana Jones' screenplays, only returning to the director's chair in 1999 with the first of three critically despised Star Wars prequel movies (which I enjoyed). The last of these came out in 2005. But will he ever direct again? Will he ever make a non-Star Wars related movie? You see, that's why Lucas excites me as a director. I am intigued about what he would make and how he would make it if he ever decided to stop riding the Star Wars gravy train. His first three movies were classics, what happened?

To dub or not to dub?

Working in a cinema where Miyazaki’s marvellous animated film ‘Ponyo’ is playing in both English-dub and Japanese language versions, I have talked to many people who have expressed a strong preference for seeing the subtitled version. Many have spoken of their joy that the cinema is playing the film in its native language, with some suggesting that the American dub is in some way an inferior or compromised version of the picture, intended for children and not cinephiles. Now, as I made clear in my review of 'Ponyo' last week, I am not only a fan of Miyazaki, but of animation in general, and I personally prefer to see the American dubbed versions of these films.

Naturally, I would never dream of seeing a live-action film like ‘The White Ribbon’ played with an English language soundtrack, as that would be fairly comical and would, in turn, spoil the film. I would also prefer to watch an animation like ‘Ponyo’ in its native language if I were a fluent speaker of that language, gaining from that many subtle details I'm sure are lost in translation. However, as I don’t speak Japanese, I find the Pixar-produced dubs of the Miyazaki films to be the best option. They are done with obvious love and respect, they usually get decent actors in to play each role (rather than simply hiring ‘stars’) and they make a real effort to match up the new voices with the original lip-syncing. It should come as no surprise that Pixar re-dub the Studio Ghibli movies with such proficiency as they meticulously redub their own movies for most foreign markets, using localised acting talent (this isn’t an example of one-way American cultural hegemony).



Ultimately, I view Miyazaki (pictured above with John Lasseter of Pixar) as a master of animation and want to spend my time looking at his films, and not at the text at the bottom. You couldn’t remove this barrier from a live-action film without completely compromising it, whereas this isn’t the case with dubbed animation, where it can enhance the experience. When I see a foreign language film, I may not understand that some characters are joking when they use a phrase which is lost in translation, or I may not be able to detect subtle changes in intonation which can make something read as humorous or threatening (a Spanish-speaking colleague experienced a different 'Sin Nombre' to me for just this reason), whereas a dubbed animation (when done properly) can provide you a truer experience than a subtitled version in the original language as the film can be transmitted without this barrier.

A common reason I have heard for why many people prefer the subtitled version is that it ensures the audience is devoid of children. I also feel this diminishes the experience for me in a dubbed version. I am always intrigued about audience reactions to any film, and love to feel like the film I am watching is exciting, amusing or scaring the people around me. I hated Peter Jackson’s ‘King Kong’, but I remember fondly the moments when everyone in the audience gasped in horror at some of the huge insects. Similarly my fondest memory of seeing ‘Wall-E’ at the cinema involved hearing a child exclaim “Oh no, not Wall-E!” when the loveable robot fell down a ventilation shaft. To a grown-up, cynical person like me, a film like ‘Wall-E’ can’t convincingly impart a feeling of peril: I know that ‘Wall-E’ will triumph and will survive the ventilation shaft ordeal, for example. But when I hear children reacting to a movie in an emotional and un-cynical way, it helps me to understand the impact the film is having on (what is ultimately) its intended audience and gives me more pleasure as a spectator.

I saw 'Ponyo' in both versions and enjoyed it on both occasions. For me, the American dub is a faithful and truthful account of the movie (at least as read in the subtitles) and I don’t see why, in the name of cultural snobbery, anyone would rob themselves of being able to sit back and really look at the movie in all its glory, with all its warmth, humour and charm intact.

Both versions of ‘Ponyo’ (rated 'U') are still packing in crowds at the Dukes and will continue to do so until it ends its run on Thursday the 25th of February. Come and see it whilst you still can!

'Ponyo' Review: The beauty of Miyazaki

I’ll make it known from the off: I’m a big fan of Hayao Miyazaki’s work. Because of this, I probably have a little bit of trouble evaluating his latest film with much objectivity. I quite simply can’t see what anybody could dislike about “Ponyo”.

Miyazaki’s first feature since 2004’s ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’, ‘Ponyo on a Cliff by the Sea’ (to use its more picturesque Japanese title) will be enthusiastically devoured by fans of Japanese anime, by fans of traditional hand-drawn animation in general, as well as by fans of its legendary filmmaker. Indeed, it will be a film welcomed by all of the above all the more enthusiastically as it comes in the wake of Studio Ghibli’s last, rather lacklustre, 2006 effort ‘Tales from Earthsea’ (directed by Hayao Miyazaki’s son: Goro).

‘Ponyo’ is the story of a fish who desires to become a human after falling in love with one. In this way it is essentially an adaptation of Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid”. However, that is not to say that the film does not bare the auteurist stamp of its director, as all of Miyazaki’s usual preoccupations are on show here: Miyazaki transforms Andersen’s mermaid and prince into two young, self-sufficient children; the film has similar environmental messages to ‘Princess Mononoke’ and ‘Spirited Away’; our hero saves the day (spoiler!) by overcoming trials of the heart, rather than tests of physical strength (see any of Miyazaki’s heroes); and Miyazaki again displays his fascination with people at work – here seen in the sections featuring the men at sea or the young boy's mother tending to the old women of the nursing home.

All of these motifs are echoed in this film, but there is a far more important one which is also present here. Miyazaki carries everything off with his customary lightness of touch and effortless charm. The characters in his films are unfailingly good-natured and there are never any bad guys to speak of (perhaps with the notable exception of Muska in ‘Castle in the Sky’), as he refuses to deal in straightforward good versus evil. It's heartening, that the villains in Miyazaki are never too far from redemption, often befriending the heroes.

As is to be expected by now, the film is superb from an animation standpoint. The animation is colourful, fluid and detailed throughout, whilst nobody in the history of the art form has so effectively captured the spirit of childhood through the depiction of children in motion. Like ‘My Neighbour Totoro’ before it, ‘Ponyo’ features some of the most sensitive and poignant animation of children I have ever seen and it is here that the film really excels.



However my enduring memory and perhaps my favourite moment of the film was its depiction of a downcast and rainy early-afternoon. I have never seen any film (animated or live-action) so accurately evoke that time of day and the feeling that comes with it. As you can no doubt tell from this review: I loved ‘Ponyo’. It was purely and immensely joyful and if my fandom of Miyazaki has in any way compromised my judgement and rendered me unable to find any negatives in this film, then I am entirely happy with that outcome. In an age where most children's films have a post-modern, knowing cynicism about them, it is really refreshing to find something so sincere in its unabashed enthusiasm and childish naivety.

'Ponyo' is playing all week at the Duke of York's Picturehouse in Brighton (in subtitled and dubbed versions) and is rated 'U' by the BBFC.