'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail' review: A brief, but thoroughly enjoyable, early Kurosawa film...

Here is a follow-up to yesterday's post regarding my trip to see a very rare early Kurosawa film at the BFI Southbank. I didn't know quite what to expect from the 1945 film 'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail' but I was really pleasantly surprised by what I saw tonight. One of the few things I knew about the film before going in was that it based on an old 12th Century Japanese tale and uses aspects of Nah and Kabuki theatre adaptations in its telling. I worried slightly that this may be alienating or (frankly) boring to watch, but actually the film was really well paced and consistently entertaining. Of course, it helped that it ran at a brisk 58 minutes in length.

'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail' really feels like the simple, effective telling of an age-old tale. What surprised me the most was that, despite the fact the film pre-dates his "golden period", many of Kurosawa's trademark shots and techniques are visible here. There are screenwipes, quick cuts between multiple protagonists and even many of his consistent themes are invoked (humanist values, criticism of traditional values and the emphasis on male characters). Furthermore, the film features a number of actors he would later rely on such as Masayuki Mori ('Rashomon', 'The Idiot', 'The Bad Sleep Well'), Susumu Fujita ('Yojimbo', 'The Hidden Fortress') and the great Takashi Shimura (too many to mention, most famously 'Ikiru' and 'Seven Samurai').

As I wrote yesterday, I couldn't pass up the chance to see this rarely screened film which is unavailable on DVD (at least in the UK). I wondered what the quality of the print would be like for this movie and when it started it was plain to see not only that this piece of film had been around since the film's US release in 1952, but that it was an American version. For one thing the subtitles looked like they had been scratched directly onto the film and, more obviously, the opening credits and titles were all in English. There was also a three page forward giving the context of the story and telling us that "this is a story which is loved by the Japanese". Sometimes the sound went and even the picture cut out at other times, but I found that strangely charming. After seeing the remastered splendour of 'Rashomon' the week before, it was sort of nice to see what a used and abused print looked like. It was a great advert for the likes of Martin Scorsese, who tell us frequently about the need to restore and maintain older films. Hopefully somebody will do the same for this movie before it is worn out of existence!



This is not to criticise the BFI at all. They deserve kudos for finding and screening such an unsung and obscure film as this as part of their Kurosawa season. The screening (admittedly in one of the smaller screens) was pleasingly quite well attended too and the movie played to a good atmosphere, with the comedy of contemporary comedian Kenichi "Enoken" Enomoto going down a storm. Enoken is really exaggerated and campy throughout but his porter character (introduced to the tale by Kurosawa) is what makes the film satirical, as he undermines the heroism and traditional values of the party of soldiers he is in service of. Displaying all the cowardice and opportunism of the lowly pair later seen in 'The Hidden Fortress', the porter delightfully contradicts the earnest Bushido of the rest of the film.

I don't usually go in for plot synopsis here, but seeing as this film is so hard to come by it might be a good idea. Basically, a group of warriors are disguised as travelling monks in order to escort their lord safely into another territory as he is on the run after a dispute with the ruling clan (in another plot element reminiscent of 'The Hidden Fortress'). However, they are expected at the checkpoint barrier and the film mainly involves a stand-off between the head warrior (Captain Beneki, played by the wonderful Denjiro Okochi) and the barrier guard (Togashi, played by Fujita) as he attempts to convince him that the group are the monks they claim to be. It is sometimes funny, sometimes actually very tense and always gripping stuff.

When the barrier guards recognise one of the porters as the wanted lord, Beneki trashes his master with a stick, supposedly to discipline him for being slow. Convinced that a warrior would never beat his master the barrier guard agree to let the men pass. Apparently the debate among Japanese fans of the old tale is whether Togashi knows that Beneki is lying or not, perhaps deciding to let him pass regardless. However here, in this telling, I believe Kurosawa has Togashi convinced by the beating, so stuck is he in an old code of honour now obsolete. Or at least, if not wholly convinced, Beneki breaks all the rules and Togashi is socially unable to accuse another man of his class of that dishonesty and ultimate shame. To deal with his shame at beating his master (in order to save his life) Beneki is shown to drink a barrel full of sake, much like Toshiro Mifune's Kikuchiyo does in 'Seven Samurai' after his own shameful episode.



Despite its brevity there is a lot to take in after watching 'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail', a complex and thoroughly entertaining film. I had expected to find myself appreciating it more than liking it and had hoped to see the genesis of some of Kurosawa's later work represented in this early film. Instead what I was treated to was a film full of such moments, but which also worked completely in its own right. It was made quite cheaply and is entirely set-bound (with painted exterior backdrops), but it is quite atmospheric all the same thanks to Kurosawa's direction and the photography of Takeo Itô (who later worked on 'Drunken Angel'). Enoken's rampant over-acting may grate with some, so (intentionally) at odds is it with the rest of the piece, but if you get the chance to see it some time in the future then I would recommend you spend 58 minutes watching 'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail'. Especially if you appreciate Kurosawa's later work.

'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail' is currently exempt from classification by the BBFC. However, with the complete absence of shown violence or any bad language it would comfortably receive a 'U' in my opinion.

'Rashomon' re-issue review: A much needed big screen outing for a true classic...

I have recently written a fair bit on this blog about the work of Akira Kurosawa. Jon and I recently recorded a special Kurosawa-themed Splendor Cinema podcast, whilst I have also written here about my favourite of his films and about some of the re-makes he inspired. On Friday I visited the BFI Southbank in London where I took advantage of their awesome world cinema shop to purchase a copy of his splendid autobiography and also fill some the gaps in my DVD collection: I found copies of ‘The Idiot’, ‘The Bad Sleep Well’, ‘Drunken Angel’ and ‘High and Low’. Most importantly, I took the opportunity to watch his international breakthrough, the Golden Lion winning 1950 film ‘Rashomon’, now in a glorious restored print which has been re-issued at selected cinemas nationwide.



‘Rashomon’ had previously been a film I admired more than enjoyed. I appreciated how significant it was in opening the eyes of western critics to Japanese cinema and I also understood its influence, the narrative structure (focussing on four subjective accounts of a rape and murder) has been copied by a countless number of films and has also been adapted by science and philosophy – the so-called “Rashomon effect”. But when I saw it on Friday it marked the first time I had seen the film on the big screen and its impact on me was much greater.

Partly this was down to paying the film greater attention than I had possibly done in the past. In a cinema it is just you and the film. You can’t pause it. You can’t look at your phone. You can’t go and get a drink and you hesitate to leave for the toilet. It holds your complete, undivided attention.

This time I noticed the virtuosity of Kurosawa’s camera work, often panning and swooping in elaborate long takes. Just as often it is still and patient with the director allowing the action to move in and out of the frame. It is in many ways a masterclass in how to shoot a film, especially action sequences. Like his hero John Ford, Kurosawa is able to make everything look deceptively simple and made his films with great economy. The film feels tight, disciplined and is basically as close to perfect as any movie could hope to be.



The performances are also fantastic. Toshiro Mifune is at his most cat-like as a snarling bandit accused of murder, whilst Takashi Shimura gives a great turn as a woodcutter who reports the crime, with some scenes of emotional poignancy to rival his more celebrated role in ‘Ikiru’. There are also roles for lesser known Kurosawa regulars such as Minoru Chiaki (who plays a troubled priest) and Masayuki Mori (above) as the murdered samurai. There is also Machiko Kyō, who almost steals the show as the samurai’s wife. Kyō cries and screams with an intensity which renders her performance unforgettable. Like almost every female in a Kurosawa movie, she is also called upon to be somewhat conniving and manipulative which she does with some gusto (representations of women are not Kurosawa’s strongest suit, for that see Mizoguchi, Ozu or Naruse) .

But more impressive than its stars and the great craft of its master director is its typically humanist portrayal of the characters. During the varying accounts of the central murder, what struck me was that the emphasis is not on the practical differences between the accounts, but on something subtler. It is the difference in tone, the different emotional reactions to the event and the changes in meaning which shape this tale and give ‘Rashomon’ its depth. During the trial scenes, in which the characters gather to give their testimonies, the judges are unseen. We are only shown the storytellers themselves talking to camera. Therefore when they lie the implication is that they are only lying to themselves (and perhaps to us).

The bandit wants us to believe he is a hard man, a skilful swashbuckler and a user of women. Watching him speak you feel he has succeeded in convincing himself. The samurai (whose testimony comes via a medium) gives an account in which he dies an honourable death by suicide to compensate for the shame he feels at seeing his wife raped. However the woodcutter’s story (in all details but one final twist taken to be the “true” account) reveals that both men were cowardly: that they fought but that it involved a lot of falling over and scrambling in the dirt. During the encounter Mifune pants loudly: out of breath and full of fear.



They never really cross swords (as in the bandit's version above); instead they swing wildly and run away from each other. The samurai’s final words are “I don’t want to die”. The truth is pathetic, not heroic or romantic. The truth is human. Kurosawa’s point is not that all people are bad or that all people are cowards, but that people are flawed. That we should be suspicious of those who portray themselves as honourable, just as we should of those who promote the idea that they are the opposite. That people are not caricatures: they are complicated.

Happily, for Kurosawa and ‘Rashomon’, there is just as much good as bad in the world. The priest’s faith in humanity is restored by the woodcutter’s decision to adopt an abandoned baby and defend it against a man who seeks to rob it of its few possessions. The woodcutter is told by the man that all people are selfish and that being selfish is necessary to survive (a popular view among capitalists). But the woodcutter rejects this assessment of humanity and, although he already has six children, he takes on the responsibility of another. This final moment sees Kurosawa at his most sentimental, but it is the necessary conclusion to the story and one which gives us hope.



It is hope which is an important final message for Kurosawa and Japan in ‘Rashomon’. Made in the aftermath of the Second World War in a battered and defeated nation, the film is in part allegorical. It opens on a broken gate, a relic from a period of prosperity and cultural richness. The woodcutter and the priest find shelter under this ruin as a heavy rainfall lashes down throughout the film. When the woodcutter adopts the infant the rainfall stops and the duo are able to leave the broken past behind and walk into a more hopeful future, for Japan and for the world. Fitting for a film which heralded a similarly bright future for Japanese cinema.

I, obviously, highly recommend seeking out ‘Rashomon’ in a cinema near you. It is playing at the BFI Southbank until the 8th of July on an extended run and is rated ‘12A’ by the BBFC.

Review 'Hierro': An unoriginal Spanish thriller with some nice moments...

Here is a quick update to say that my review of the new Spanish thriller 'Hierro' (from the producers behind 'The Orphanage') is released today and my full review is up on Obsessed with Film.

I haven't been posting much at OWF for a few weeks (since a site re-design). But my review of 'Greenberg' was recently re-located to there and so I figure, why not? Many thousands more people read OWF than read this blog! So it would be a little silly not to post up there when I can. Anyway, go there and read my review after watching the trailer above.

Expect a Splendor podcast for 'Hierro' and 'Please Give' (which I plan on seeing later next week) in the next week. Jon is currently in Holland looking at how cinema exhibition is run over there, so expect a few words on that too...

'Hierro' is released today (18th June 2010) and can be seen at Brighton's Duke of York's cinema.

Review 'The Killer Inside Me': Slow moving, occasionally ultra violent new Winterbottom film...

It was impossible to discuss this film without some spoilers!

Within his latest film, the controversial and ultra-violent thriller ‘The Killer Inside Me’, there are signs that Michael Winterbottom was aiming for something of a black comedy. The quirky, ultra-colourful opening credits and the playful music underpinning a homicidal chase near the film’s conclusion, are placed alongside scenes of visceral and jarring brutality as Casey Affleck’s Texan sheriff, Lou Ford, becomes a psychopathic serial killer.

In an otherwise slow-paced and sedate film, of beautiful period detail, two key scenes of violence against female characters have sparked some outrage from a number of reviewers who found them to be in bad taste. Certainly, they make for uncomfortable viewing but sometimes that is the point. Arguably the hyper-violence of a Tarantino film (or an Eli Roth torture-porn flick) is more troubling as it is sold as entertainment. The violence in this picture is not enjoyable and nor should it be.



It is clear to often chilling (sometimes comic) effect that we are listening to an unreliable narrator in Lou Ford. He gives us a version of events which we know to be incorrect, convincing himself with his own deceit. Of a victim’s father he says “He couldn’t live down that his son was murdered by the hooker he fell in love with” although we know that Lou has killed them both. When he kills off a witness to his crimes by staging a suicide, he later refers to the event in his monologue as though the suicide was for real. “There’s a plot against me”, he tells us in earnest, “I did one thing wrong when I was a kid” he says, downplaying his rape of a young girl during his teenage years. Later, as he is about to frame a poor drunk for the murder of his fiancé he screams “I was going to marry that poor girl!” again seeming to buy into his own twisted lies. This delusional narration puts the comedy and the violence in context, confirming (if it were needed) that Winterbottom’s film is an attempt to really put the audience in the mind of this killer, with flashbacks to his past serving to help explain his route into a world of (often sexual) violence.

Making the tale richer is what for me seemed like a critique of a traditional filmic shorthand: that the rural, southern gentleman is a better sort than the slick city-boy. Last year Michael Haneke’s ‘The White Ribbon’ similarly flipped this convention, turning a seemingly pleasant, pastoral community into something dark and sinister. In this film we are shown a seeming pleasant yet utterly corrupt town where bribery and blackmail are commonplace and where a local tycoon excises total control over the local political machine. Lou Ford is a self-described “gentleman” and talks to everyone pleasantly with all the expected airs and graces associated with being “decent”. When an investigator from out of town finally links him to all the murders calling him a “son of a bitch”, a local law enforcement officer reacts more in horror to the language of this outsider than to Ford’s transgressions: "Don't say a thing about a man's mother!"



It is also a running theme in the film that almost everybody who learns of Lou’s violence and barbarity is willing to overlook it for their own gain, from the drunk to the union official. Even his fiancé, Amy (Kate Hudson), is ultimately willing to forgive Lou, such is his appeal as a gentleman. As Lou says “nobody ever has it coming. That’s why nobody ever sees it coming” and nobody ever sees him coming, even when they are aware of his crimes. In this way the film seems to be a satire of our preoccupation with image over substance.

Perhaps the best argument in support of claims that the film is misogynistic is that Jessica Alba (as the prostitute and first victim Joyce) and Kate Hudson play thinly developed characters and have little meaningful screen time which doesn't see them being punched repeatedly. However, this claim could be countered by the view that we only see them as Lou sees them and not as people separate from his interpretation. Casey Affleck is almost too good at this sort of quietly psychotic role. Anyone who saw him in ‘The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford’ back in 2007 will remember how much of an uneasy presence he is without the need to really do or say very much. There is also a welcome cameo role for Bill Pullman, an actor not seen on screen enough in recent years.



Overall I would hesitate to say that I enjoyed ‘The Killer Inside Me’ or even that I liked it. What I am sure of, however, is that the film is not deserving of some of the critical bile that has been spilled in its direction. The violence is graphic and horrifying – as it should be in this story. Yes, the violence towards men is usually off-camera or relatively quick, but from Lou Ford’s perspective those murders are almost circumstantial. His murder of the two female leads and his behaviour around them is what this film is about. What I have tried to establish in this review is that there is merit to this film and more going on then you would find in a movie which was simply aiming for shock value. I probably won’t be watching it again recreationally, but ultimately it is a solidly made, decently acted film with some interesting ideas, which has the strength of its convictions even when that takes it to uncomfortable, unpalatable places.

'The Killer Inside Me' is rated '18' by the BBFC and can still be seen in cinema's across the UK. Today is its last day at Brighton's Duke of York's Picturehouse.

'Greenberg' review: Moving, well observed and funny too...

My review of Noah Baumbach's 'Greenberg' has been removed from this blog as it is now up on Obsessed with Film here instead. Go and take a look. More importantly, go and see this excellent film whilst you still can, as it's on fairly limited release in the UK. Anyone who like Baumbach's 'The Squid and the Whale' stands a good chance of thoroughly enjoying his latest film too.

'Greenberg' stars Ben Stiller and the marvelous Queen of the "mumblecore" movement Greta Gerwig. It's funny, but also truthful about life and relationships with really rich characters (including a great showing from Rhys Ifans in the supporting cast).

'Greenberg' is rated '15' by the BBFC and can be seen at the Duke of York's Picturehouse in Brighton until the 24th of June.

'The Girl on the Train' review: Téchiné's latest fails to satisfy...

‘The Girl on the Train’, a new film directed and co-written by the multi-award-winning André Téchiné, is very much a film of two halves. Apparently loosely based on a real-life event infamous in its native France and set within the context of a wave of anti-Semitic hate crimes, the film follows a young girl named Jeanne who one day tears her clothes, cuts herself and draws swastikas on her body, before claiming to the authorities that some youths attacked her whilst she rode a train. She adds to the recent concern about racist attacks by claiming that she was singled out because she was carrying the business card of a Jewish lawyer, also suggesting that crowds of people on the train saw the incident and did nothing to intervene. The media quickly buy into this lie and run with the story sparking popular outrage across France. Soon Jeanne’s mother is taking calls from the nation’s President expressing his sympathies for the attack. The second half of the film deals with Jeanne telling the lie and its aftermath (much of which is based on reality), whilst the first half is Téchiné’s attempt to understand why she told this lie and deals with the (highly fictionalized) events leading up to it.

If Téchiné is considered one of France’s most significant post-New Wave filmmakers, then it is only fitting that the film does not come without names of top acting pedigree also. The Belgian actress Émilie Dequenne (who won the ‘Best Actress’ prize at Cannes in 1999) heads up a well-respected cast as she plays the titular girl, Jeanne. Her troubled and well-meaning mother, Louise, is played by the Academy Award nominated Catherine Deneuve (a frequent Téchiné collaborator), whilst the Jewish lawyer and hate crime activist, Samuel Bleistein, is played by Michel Blanc (a star of Téchiné’s last film, ‘The Witnesses’). Finally, a rising star, Nicolas Duvauchelle (who was also in last year’s Claire Denis film, ‘White Material’), plays Jeanne’s streetwise boyfriend Franck. It is their love affair which dominates the film’s first half and attempts to go some way to explaining Jeanne’s later actions.



The cast do an able job with the material they are given, however the film feels strangely like a low-budget television drama. There are some nice shots and many scenes (notably those in the sunshine) are pleasantly lit, but it is paced far too slowly and outstays its welcome fairly quickly. There are whole scenes which seem to serve no obvious purpose in advancing Jeanne’s story. For instance, there is a sub-plot (involving a bickering divorced couple who later sleep together and then finally reconcile) which could easily have been excised from the film entirely. When I first saw the film I was unaware of the “true story” element and (not having read a synopsis) did not know that Jeanne was going to stage a racially motivated hate crime by beating herself up. The fact that when she did it came as a huge surprise to me (and seemed to alter the tone of the film so completely) I think counts against the film, as the first half which leads up to the event and is supposed to provide some sort of character motivation and simply fails to do so. I am still none the wiser about Jeanne's motivations.

We are left asking questions, such as: did she do it for attention? But we could have asked those questions had the film only depicted the “true story” events. Téchiné sheds no light on this extraordinary lie and its consequences. He depicts Jeanne watching a holocaust documentary and weeping. He also shows that she has seen the news reports of the previous (genuine) hate crimes against Jewish people. But neither of these moments really add up to pretending you've been persecuted. Perhaps Téchiné is suggesting that she feels marginalised and suspects that the only way she can get her voice heard is by capitalising on this media event. We are left intrigued to find out more about the real-life case, but not especially thrilled by or satisfied with Téchiné’s film.

'The Girl on the Train' is out in the UK now on a limited release, including one showing at Brighton's Duke of York's Picturehouse on July 20th. The film is rated '15' by the BBFC. Jon and I covered it in the latest Splendor Podcast also.

'Sex & the City 2' review: Shameless, tacky and unstoppable...

“Look! Arabic Pringles” says Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) as the camera goes into a shameless extreme close-up on the branded potato snacks. They have been provided by a Middle Eastern airline bringing her, along with her equally vacuous and materialistic friends, to a luxury holiday in Abu Dhabi. “We need to go somewhere rich” says Samantha (Kim Cattrall), when encouraging the “girls” to join her on this all expenses paid trip (their New York penthouses are not considered “rich” enough it would seem). Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) foolishly decides to bring a cultural guide book along and she is rightly derided for this with Carrie derisively asking “Are you moving there?” Indeed. Why would one want to know anything about the country they are visiting? As Samantha so rightly says on the eve of their trip east, “I can hear the decadence calling!” Welcome to the world of ‘Sex & the City 2’.

‘Sex & the City 2’, directed and written by Michael Patrick King (providing once and for all the infallibility of auteur theory), is an odd and strangely hypnotic film. I should have hated it to the core. However, not far in to its 146 minute running time I resolved that the film was a satire of its brazenly selfish, hedonistic and superficial protagonists and everything about their there way of life (so obviously hideous is everything they say and do and physically embody). Viewed in this way the film is sort of amusing. For instance, the horrifying cadaver that is Kim Cattrall (who I’m sure the writer thinks is a modern day Mae West) looks and acts exactly like Sam Lowry’s excessively vain mother in Terry Gilliam’s 1985 dystopian sci-fi movie ‘Brazil’, always boasting about how many treatments and injections she has endured all with the noble aim of fighting the aging process. “I am fifty-fucking-two and I will rock this dress!” she shouts at a hapless clothes store clerk in the manner of a demented and embarrassing old spinster aunt in a way which the film supposes is some sort of milestone for female empowerment.



Then we have Carrie whose ‘Wonder Years’ style disembodied narration serves as the film’s dubious moral centre. Carrie is a relationship columnist of international renown and acts as a sort of female version of the James Bond wish fulfilment fantasy. At one point she walks into a “wardrobe” bigger than most people’s bedrooms (and full of expensive designer clothes) and I distinctly heard two disparate ladies in the audience say “cool!” ‘Sex & the City’ is to women what ‘XXX’, ‘Fast and Furious’ and Danny Dyer movies are to men, in that they are not really for women at all: just for stupid people. If Samantha is deluded and slightly nauseating, then Carrie is just downright hateful. She makes her husband go out with her to a party, ditches him for her friends and then drags him home when she sees that he is starting to have fun (talking to Penelope “why am I here?” Cruz). For their anniversary her husband buys them both a flat screen television for the bedroom (getting a derisive chuckle from the ladies in the audience) but his intentions are decent and even romantic: he wants to lie with her and watch “old black and white films” in bed. She is indignant and, in the manner of an ungrateful child, says “a piece of jewellery would have been nice”. What a horrible person (but then Bond isn’t much better as a role model for male behaviour). Carrie and her friends feel like the subjects of an MTV reality show.

A bit huffy from television-gate, Carrie decides to spend a few days back at her old apartment. “The last two years haven’t been the best time to sell an apartment” she explains. It makes economic sense for her to keep the place empty and sell it on later and this is all that matters in her universe. Don’t worry about the people who are being forced out of their homes in the wake of global recession: they probably deserved it and in any case they are far too poor for us to care. So Carrie has two places and when she returns to this one after two years away, she finds it as she left it: fully furnished, with a huge, walk-in wardrobe (still full of high fashion clothes). But in this world Carrie isn’t disgusting at all, apparently.



And apparently neither is Charlotte (Kristin Davis) who denies her Jewish surname (Goldenblatt) as soon as they arrive in the Middle East in fear that it might spoil her time drinking cocktails by the pool. These are clearly people of principle. My personal favourite bit saw Carrie talking to one of her butlers in Abu Dhabi about the difficulties of maintaining a marriage. He explains to her that he is Indian and comes to Abu Dhabi to work, only flying back to see his wife when “I have time off work and can afford the plane fare”. But instead of this being a wake-up call to make Carrie see just how easy she and her pals have it (and to how sickeningly bourgeois their existence on this Earth has become) this story is mined for romance, with the manservant explaining that his love for his wife increases in their time apart. The grim economic reality of the poor people who pander to their every whim on the dessert resort (in a modern form of indentured servitude) is mentioned but simultaneously completely ignored.



The film can’t make up its mind what it thinks of the Middle East either. On the one hand we have Samantha gallivanting around the market square thrusting her hips and shouting “I have sex” at the local outraged men, her hands full of condoms (I am not making this up). On the other hand we have Miranda constantly trying to cover Samantha up and apologise for her behaviour. Together the women laugh at a lady in a burqa as she lifts her veil to eat French fries at the next table in a restaurant, but then they also gasp in wonder at the cultural sites they encounter on their trip and befriend a kindly man in the market (“shoes for everyone!”). Overall the cultural and historical morsels Miranda derives from her guide book (in the form of strained exposition) seem to serve as more of a disclaimer than anything else: giving the “girls” the right to say and do whatever grossly insensitive things they want to in this horrible movie. Generally their intolerance of local custom is played for laughs. The film’s crowning insult to the Middle East is in one the final scenes in Abu Dhabi, in which a group of women remove their burqas to reveal that underneath they are wearing similarly “fabulous” clothes to their American counterparts. You go girls! Whether you see this film as an example of cultural imperialism or of female empowerment you surely can not deny that it is unfailingly tacky.



There is so much more to find horrifying in this film. For instance, Liza Minnelli shows up as a singer at a gay wedding doing a version of Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies’ which makes you want to erase her entire career (even the stuff with Bob Fosse). There is a really cringe-worthy sub-plot involving a bra-less, Irish nanny and Charlotte’s basic inability to parent her own children: “and I have full-time help!” she says, admitting her own basic inability to function as a competent member of the human race. There is Samantha saying “word” without any trace of irony as well as the concept of an “interfriendshon”. There is a horrid karaoke scene in which the “girls” sing “I Am Woman”, swaying in unison and holding hands, forever uniting in bonds of unquestioning sisterhood. But what would be the point of going on about this obviously critic-proof film for any longer? “That should take the edge off the reviews” says Carrie, referring to Samantha’s admission that she will likely bed the star of a bad film. In the case of ‘Sex & the City 2’ good box-office will not only take the edge off the bad reviews, but will shred them into total and utter irrelevance.

'Sex & the City 2' is out everywhere now (including Brighton's Duke of York's Picturehouse) and is rated '15' by the BBFC.

'The Happiest Girl in the World' review: Outstanding Romanian comedy...

Once in a while a film comes along that really surprises you. Completely knocks you back. Fifteen minutes into Radu Jude’s ‘The Happiest Girl in the World’ I came to the realisation I was watching such a film. Romanian cinema has been experiencing something of a critical golden age over the last decade, with the so-called New Wave climaxing in 2007 when Cristian Mungiu’s ‘4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days’ won the Palm d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival. Anyone who watches Jude’s film will find themselves assured that the good times are not yet over for the former Soviet state’s film industry.

Regular readers of this blog will know that I am fond of tightly made little films which focus on a small number of characters and have almost no “plot” in the conventional sense. ‘The Happiest Girl in the World’ is another film in this fine tradition, with relatively little going on in the plot department. A young girl called Delia has won a competition by collecting the labels from a fruit drinks bottle and is entitled to a brand new car, as well as a starring role in an advertisement for the drink. To collect her prize and to film the commercial, Delia and her parents travel to Bucharest from the countryside. We witness the final leg of their car journey into the capital and then we stick with Delia as she gets her make-up done and films take after take of the inane advertisement. Arguing with her parents between takes about what to do with the car (they want to sell it in order to start a hotel business, whereas she wants to keep it do drive around with her friends) the girl is forced to repeat for the cameras (and with increasing irony) that she is the titular “luckiest, happiest girl in the world”.



What we see is a protracted (fantastically acted) family feud, as she argues with her mother, then her father, then the pair of them and so on, until the day is ending, the light is fading and the poor, exasperated commercial director is left trying desperately to coax an adequate performance out of her. Meanwhile, a representative of the drinks company takes exception to every detail of the ad, from the girls speaking, to the amount of juice she drinks in a single take, to the amount of water sprayed onto the bottle by the prop man in order to make it look refreshing (at one point he suggests adding cola to the bottle to make it look better on film). These two parts of the film combine to give us something which is equal parts a poignant (and often quietly funny) family drama about a grumpy modern teenager and her old fashioned parents and a detailed and fascinating insight into the world of making commercials (and by extension filmmaking in general), with every aspect of that world shown in great detail. Apparently Jude was himself a director of commercials and it is clear he knows that world inside and out.

There are so many interesting strands in this film that it is almost impossible to keep track of them all. It is an observational comedy about the gap between generations. It’s also a story about the clash between the new capitalist ideology which prizes personal possessions and consumption over the common good represented by the parents who remember the communist years more vividly and see a comfortable lifestyle as more appealing than a shiny car. You could read it as simply a story of country attitudes coming to the big city, or of the cruelty of the media industry using people and treating them badly (as the commercial makers constantly talk about Delia's physical imperfections whilst she is within earshot).



It is also a film which provoked an incredibly visceral response from me whilst I sat watching it. I felt like I wanted to shout at the girl for being so selfish and giving her folks such a hard time. I wanted her dad to be able to get her signature and sell the car before the day’s conclusion. At times I was gripped with suspense uncommon in this sort of quiet, low-key film as I genuinely worried about what decision the girl would make. But the biggest strength of all is that I wasn’t led to feel that way particularly (or at least I don’t feel as though I was, which is just as good). I can just as easily imagine people wanting the girl to keep her car and I can see people thinking badly of her parents for pushing her into selling it for them (and at one point threatening to disown her entirely and leave the city without her - which come to think of it does sound unreasonable).

Basically, ‘The Happiest Girl in the World’ is one of the most remarkable and surprising films of the last year and I will be very, very surprised if it isn’t in my top ten come January 2011. Go and see it if you can find it playing somewhere.

'The Happiest Girl in the World' is rated '15' by the BBFC and is out today (28th May 2010) in the UK in selected cinemas nationwide (or probably just in London). Jon and I talked about it in the last podcast too!

Retrospective Review: 'Punch-Drunk Love'

Here is the first in a planned series of retrospective reviews of some of favourite movies. I have chosen to start this series with a look at a movie which is depicted in this blog's heading and which I have frequently mentioned in my posts:



‘Punch-Drunk Love’ (2002) is the fourth feature film directed by Paul Thomas Anderson and stars Adam Sandler, who became a major box-office draw in the latter half of the 1990’s with broad and brash man-child comedies like ‘The Waterboy’ (1998) and ‘Big Daddy’ (1999). But it should come as no surprise that ‘Punch-Drunk Love’ isn’t a slapstick comedy farce, however, as Anderson had come to prominence with such bold and unusual films as ‘Boogie Nights’ (1997) and ‘Magnolia’ (1999) and would go on to make the dark, satirical oil-epic ‘There Will Be Blood’ (2007), which was nominated for the Best Picture Oscar at the 80th Academy Awards and also earned Anderson a nomination for directing (although it was defeated in both categories by the Coen brothers’ ‘No Country For Old Men’).

‘Punch-Drunk Love’ is not an easy film to summarise, although the surface level “plot” is admittedly rather slender. Barry Egan (Sandler) is a nervous and isolated man who is unable to express himself emotionally, a fact which leads to sudden fits of violent rage (a typical Sandler archetype, though played much darker here). Barry soon meets Lena (Emily Watson) and they share a mutual attraction, but Barry feels uncomfortable talking to women and avoids the situation. To confront this issue Barry takes the step of calling a sex hotline, however this leads the hotline’s supervisor (played by Phillip Seymour Hoffman) to attempt to blackmail Barry, with violent repercussions for everyone involved. Against this fraught backdrop Barry and Lena begin a romance. Explaining the story like this will give you some idea of what happens, but very little idea what the film is about.



Whilst Todd McCarthy of Variety found the film to be “marked by audacious strokes of directorial bravado” and Roger Ebert found it “exhilarating”, some critics were less enthusiastic when the film was released, with Lawrence Toppman of the Charlotte Observer expressing the belief that “‘Punch-Drunk Love’ buries a terrific performance by Adam Sandler under a heap of faux cleverness, meaningless symbolism and irritating mannerisms.” The accusations of “meaningless symbolism” and “faux cleverness” are probably directed at the way Anderson’s film uses symbols and visual motifs to represent feelings and themes. For example, early on in the film Barry witnesses a massive, unexplained, unrealistic (and never again referenced) car crash, which is immediately followed by a taxi cab leaving a harmonium on the sidewalk. For me, the car crash represents Barry’s heightened anxiety at the outside world, which he is afraid of and unable to relate to, and the harmonium becomes a method of catharsis during the film's most stressful moments, representing beauty and a reason to keep on. These moments serve to make ‘Punch-Drunk Love’ a genuinely cinematic experience with Anderson painting on a large canvas, covering the emotional rather than the literal.

The real triumph of ‘Punch-Drunk Love’ is that the viewer is forced to experience Barry’s emotional state and to see situations through his eyes. For example, in an early scene Barry attends a gathering with his seven sisters in which he loses the plot and completely destroys a glass patio door. Nothing the sisters say during this sequence is malicious or intended to rile Barry at all, in fact his sisters can’t understand why he acts the way he does towards them. However, the scene is cleverly devised so that the viewer experiences what they are saying the way Barry does: the sisters are loud and their voices overlap as they tell stories about his childhood which they think are amusing and endearing but which he interprets as a personal attack. When he destroys the glass door it is without question a disturbing, seemingly unprovoked overreaction, but one which we are made to understand and empathise with due to the mounting anxiety and hysteria created by the mood to the sequence.



The experience of watching ‘Punch-Drunk Love’ is visceral, emotional and often horribly tense, thanks in no small part to (frequent Anderson collaborator) Jon Brion, whose excellent score plays a huge part in creating the film’s atmosphere which can change quickly from terrified anxiety to pure elation, often within moments. Likewise the cinematography of Robert Elswit (who has worked on every film of Anderson’s since 1996’s ‘Hard Eight’) is breathtaking. The film’s use of colour is stunning with a muted blue colour palette, which contrasts brilliantly with some of the later scenes which display a much more intense, bright and sharply defined use of colour. These elements compliment the stunning multi-coloured visual interludes designed by the late Jeremy Blake, which feel as though they are being painted by Jon Brion’s music. All these elements complement each other so wonderfully that ‘Punch-Drunk Love’ is perhaps the most perfect movie yet by a director who seems destined to be hailed as an American master.

'Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans' review: Mad men...

‘Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans’, which stars Nicholas Cage, Eva Mendes and Val Kilmer and is directed by Werner Herzog and bares superficial similarity to Abel Ferrara’s 1992 film ‘Bad Lieutenant’ which starred Harvey Keitel (although Herzog has denied that it is a sequel or remake of that film). Herzog is perhaps better known now for documentaries such as ‘Grizzly Man’ and ‘Encounters at the End of the World’ rather than his feature films (his last such movie was 2007’s ‘Rescue Dawn’) but anyone familiar with ‘Aguirre, the Wrath of God’ or ‘Fitzcarraldo’ will know to expect a peculiar blend of profundity and madness. ‘Bad Lieutenant’, for the most part, does not disappoint.

Police Lieutenant, Terence McDonagh (Cage), has injured his back in the line of duty and has to take medication. To further ease the pain he turns to cocaine and, through the film, sinks deeper and deeper into corruption and depravity. Along the way we meet his drug addicted, prostitute girlfriend (Mendes) and his violent and volatile police partner (Kilmer). The story, which sees McDonagh attempting to place a local drug kingpin (played by the rapper Xzibit, best known here for hosting MTV’s ‘Pimp My Ride’) under arrest in connection with the homicide of an entire family, is the stuff of your average police procedural. In fact, the film’s writer, William Finkelstein, is a veteran of that genre on television, having penned episodes of ‘Law & Order’, ‘NYPD Blue’ and ‘LA Law’ (among others).



But what stops this film from sinking into the mediocrity that writing pedigree (and, some would argue, cast) would suggest is the collaboration between the film’s two insane geniuses: Herzog and Cage. Venerable old American critic Roger Ebert has described Cage’s performance as being every bit as good as those of the late Klaus Kinski, in so many other Herzog movies in the past. Cage is manic and gives a fantastic performance which contributes to something of a late critical renaissance for the Oscar winner. He gives a great physical performance as he carries himself with a slight hunch due to his back injury and looks and sounds increasingly on the edge of full-on, drug-induced breakdown. The film hinges on this performance as Cage gives his titular police Lieutenant an air of unpredictability and of self-destructive impulsiveness - but always an underlying kindness and intelligence.

Herzog is an equally pivotal part of what makes this film, largely, successful. It is hard to imagine that anybody other than the German director wrote the film’s closing lines, in which Cage asks “Do fish dream?” It is equally hard to imagine that the shooting script contained ultra close-up shots of iguanas and alligators or the scene in which a dead man’s soul starts break dancing. All these elements must be things which Herzog brought to the party and it is these sorts of touches that elevate the material.



There are also some fantastic lines in this movie. Such as when Cage perplexingly tells two old ladies (that he has just threatened to shoot) that they are what’s wrong with America. Kilmer is a good, if underused, presence and works well alongside Cage, whilst Mendes is required to display just as much of a range as Cage, but with more vulnerability, and does so in a performance which is comparatively low-key, but pivotal to the success of the film as a whole.

My major reservations with the film are hard to discuss in a review, as they relate to things some may consider “spoilers”. I’ll just say that the end 20 minutes seems to tie everything up too neatly. During this time I was expecting Herzog to pull back and reveal that we were in the midst of a drug-induced hallucination, but instead the end is really quite dissatisfying and undermines the whole film. There is an epilogue in which Herzog again takes things somewhere darker and more bizarre, but the preceding scenes have already damaged the film by this point.

Still, I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend that you see the film. It is certainly the most interesting film still playing in the UK right now (unless you can find ‘Four Lions’ or ‘Dogtooth’ somewhere). If you haven’t seen a Herzog film before, then there are much better places to start: ‘Aguirre’ probably being the most obvious, or maybe the superb documentary ‘My Best Fiend’ which looks at the Herzog/Kinski collaboration. But if you are familiar with the man’s oeuvre, then you should definitely seek this one out.

'Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans' is out now and rated '18' by the BBFC. You can see it at the Duke of York's Picturehouse in Brighton until Thursday.

'Robin Hood' review: Irredeemably terrible, overlong nonsense...

Many Robin Hood films have been made over years from the sublime (1938’s ‘The Adventures of Robin Hood’ staring Errol Flynn) to the ridiculous (Mel Brooks’ 1993 comedy ‘Robin Hood: Men in Tights’ in which the role fell to Cary Elwes). Adaptations of the story have seen Robin turned into an anthropomorphised fox (Disney’s 1973 animated version) and, more disturbingly, into Kevin Costner (1991’s ‘Prince of Thieves’). All of these versions of the legend, however flawed, attempted to turn the story into something fun and good-natured, with its hero cast as something of a quick-witted and sprightly rouge. Ridley Scott’s new version of the tale (named err… ‘Robin Hood’), some may be pleased to know, doesn’t re-tread the old ground and submit to this formula, with Scott managing to avoid any of the above.

Yes, ‘Robin Hood 2010’ (as I shall refer to it) is the opposite of fun and its hero is the opposite of sprightly. The "good-natured" part is also glaringly absent, as Russell Crowe's Robin Hood does almost nothing for the poor and robs precious little from the rich, as he mumbles in a generic “Northern” accent throughout the most turgid, bum-numbingly boring two hours and twenty minutes of recent memory.

Here Scott and his writers (‘LA Confidential’ and ‘Mystic River’ scribe Brian Helgeland, along with two of the intellectual heavyweights that brought us ‘Kung Fu Panda’) attempt to do for Robin Hood what Christopher Nolan did (with much better results) for Batman. This, we are told from the off, is the beginning of the legend and the film ends similarly to ‘Batman Begins’: with Hood established and ready for even greater adventures. The key difference, however, is that this film is tumour-inducingly dull from start to finish.

To begin with, Crowe has less charisma than a hellish lovechild of Gerard Butler and Shia LaBeouf. He grunts and mumbles his way through the film, never really raising a smile, flattening any line which might be humorous (and indeed, despite such able writers, we are never treated to ‘Kung Fu Panda’ level hilarity here) as he marauds the English country side looking like a huge, bearded potato on horseback. Flynn might not have played a Hood mired in psychological concerns (“who was my father!?” etc etc), but he was watchable and charming, bringing the character to life in your imagination. Children could (and did) aspire to be Flynn’s Robin Hood, swinging on chandeliers and besting his enemies with his wit as well as his arrows. I can not conceivably imagine anybody growing up wanting to mumble there way through Sherwood Forest as Russell Crowe.



Ok, so maybe that’s the point here: this Robin Hood is not for kids. It’s an adult version, with a tough, wilful Maid Marian played by Cate Blanchett (far from the courtly and mannered presence of, say, Olivia de Havilland) and a rugged “manly” hero in Crowe. Yes, I can see that Crowe is more convincingly a man who could have fought in the Crusades than Flynn or Costner or Elwes ever were. But is that an excuse for boring me with his mumbling presence? To paraphrase Benjmin Franklin: those who would give up essential entertainment to purchase a little temporary realism, deserve neither entertainment or realism.

Scott shoots the film in a bland, uninspired (if technically competant) way: the action sequences are coherent (if uninterestingly choreographed). Though the flashy, high-octane close-ups of people pulling bow-strings and the sped-up helicopter shots of the countryside are just plain absurd in this context. When we see French soldiers they are usually making stereotypically “French” noises in a Pythonesque fashion. I always expected them to mutter “feche la vache” at a key moment and turn the tide of battle in their favour by launching a cow onto the field. Throw into the mix a laugh-out-loud medieval version of the D-Day landing, with the French arriving on an English beach in World War II landing craft (complete with obviously derivative ‘Saving Private Ryan’ shots of arrows hitting soldiers in the water) and you have yourself a contender for “worst film of the year”.

But as obviously, inherently, breathtakingly silly the action sequences are (undercutting the “realism” that necessitated beefy Mr. Crowe in the first instance), I would have found myself far more entertained if the film had been an hour shorter and comprised solely of these scenes (the opening assault on a castle; the liberation of a village; the battle on the beach). Instead we are treated to a litany of awkward scenes that feature Crowe and Blanchett romancing (phwoar!). And when we aren’t being presented with that tantalising prospect, we have a load of historically inaccurate, xenophobic, right-wing gibberish to listen to.



The best thing I can say about this version of the story is that it takes a rather dim view of the crusades compared with other versions which tend to valorise King Richard the Lionheart (this is perhaps unsurprising from Scott, who directed ‘Kingdom of Heaven’). Similarly the church is shown as the wealthy and corrupt organisation it was at that time. Prince John (Oscar Isaac, who is probably the best thing in the film) is allowed to make some good points about his brother’s crusade, even as he sides with the perennially evil Mark Strong. But this revisionist look at the legend is a step in the right direction which is undermined by the extreme crap-ness of the rest of the production.

My brother (Chris Beames) summed it up best when after seeing the film he wrote the following as his Facebook status: “If you’re thinking of going to see Robin Hood. Then I think you should. Because at least that way it is fair.” Don’t worry; I am not yet angry enough at the human race to wish the same upon you.

I will say this: if you really, really liked ‘Gladiator’ (and you actually enjoyed the above trailer), then maybe you’ll want to see Crowe doing his Maximus bit in the woods of England. If, like me, you didn’t even like that film very much (though ‘Gladiator’ is a classic compared with this), then there is nothing for you here whatsoever.

'Robin Hood' is out now and is rated '12a' by the BBFC.

'Lebanon' review and interview with Sam Maoz at OWF now!

Samuel Maoz's tough, award winning Israeli war film, 'Lebanon', has now been reviewed over at Obsessed With Film by yours truly. I was also lucky enough to interview Mr. Maoz back in late April and that too is now available to read on the site. There is also (and sorry if it's 'Lebanon' overkill over at OWF right now!) a podcast which covers the movie, with me and Jon also discussing 'Life During Wartime'.

Interested in 'Lebanon'? Here is the trailer:



'Lebanon' is out tomorrow (14th May) and is rated '15' by the BBFC.

'Life During Wartime' review: Honest, devastating, non-judgemental black comedy…

‘Life During Wartime’ is Todd Solondz sequel to 1998’s ‘Happiness’, albeit a sequel with a completely different cast of actors. Solondz makes some unusual but ingenious casting switches too, as he replaces the white Phillip Seymour Hoffman with the black Michael K. Williams, the genius who played Omar in HBO’s ‘The Wire’. Paul Reubens comes in for Jon Lovitz, whilst Allison Janney replaces Cynthia Stevenson. These are clever choices on the part of Solondz, as the film doesn’t feel like a ‘Happiness’ B-team picture, with smaller stars, but rather it feels as though he has chosen to make some interesting changes. Even though the actors have changed completely, the characters somehow remain the same in terms of mannerisms. It’s very cleverly done.

‘Life During Wartime’ reminded me of the Coen Brother’s ‘A Serious Man’ in it’s portrayal of suburban life, with a dash of Woody Allen whenever we meet Jane Adams’ character (Joy), with her east-coast intellectual neurosis. In terms of form, I always enjoy when a director employs a still camera with very composed, stylised shots and this is exactly what we get from Solondz. It is also beautiful to look at in terms of the cinematography; ‘Life During Wartime’ (Edward Lachman) is almost totally distinct from ‘Happiness’ (Maryse Alberti) with a brighter, less dowdy colour palette, which in its own way actually heightens the darkness of the film by contrasting with it. The difference between the look of the two films is clear and especially evident if you compare scenes set on the same locations.

All the performances are good, with Ciaran Hinds able to bring a kind of quiet dignity, as well as a potentially dangerous edge, to his role as the convicted paedophile father, whose past crimes cast a shadow over much of the movie. His unbearably tense and fraught meeting with his (now grown-up) son, Billy (Chris Marquette) is able to convey so many emotions, all of them complicated, some of them contradictory. As in ‘Happiness’, Solondz is able to make Bill a rounded character and not just a figure primed for reactionary moralising and self-righteous indignation. ‘Life During Wartime’ is (like many of my favourite films) deeply humanistic and also offers no easy answers to complicated problems. Solondz doesn’t judge his characters and we don’t either. We are just forced to bare complicit witness the tragedy of their lives.

By far the best reason to see ‘Life During Wartime’ (aside from the performances, the drama and the directorial precision) is for the riotous black comedy. As with Chris Morris’ ‘Four Lions’, some may squirm uncomfortably in their chairs, but I personally found it struck the right note throughout. Solondz never pulls back, never flinches. We are always taken right to the dark core of his chosen subject matter and we laugh along the way. It is often said that if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry – that laughter is the best medicine. In Solondz case this is true, as he examines difficult social problems which, without his wonderfully comic writing, might prove too much to bear.

‘Life During Wartime’ is an excellent film of the very highest calibre. If you can find it still playing, a few weeks into its UK run, then go off and see it immediately. Maybe in a double-bill with ‘Four Lions’, if you can take your comedy without being patronised or cuddled. You owe it to yourself to see both of these films.

'Life During Wartime' came out a few weeks ago and if you can still find it, it is rated '15' by the BBFC.

Reversing my position, plus a new article, an interview and reviews at OWF

I have some new stuff up at Obsessed With Film as of today: a full interview with Lucy Bailey and Andrew Thompson (directors of the documentary 'Mugabe and the White African'), a review of the 'Caligula' Blu-ray release and a review of the documentary 'One Night in Turin', which is screening for one night only across the nation (11th May). Aside from this I also have a load of news stories up on the site and, of course, the podcast.

Speaking of which, Jon and I recorded no less than two new episodes the other night (Jon is going away for a week and we needed one in the bag for then). The first covers 'Life During Wartime' (which I still need to review for this blog since seeing it weeks back) and 'Lebanon', whilst the second was about 'Iron Man 2', 'The Avengers' and a nice Romanian film called 'The Happiest Girl in the World' (which I'll write a review for nearer the time of release).

Anyway, now to the bit about "reversing my position": I wrote this in my review of Chris Morris' excellent 'Four Lions':

"Where the film differs from the rest of the Morris oeuvre is that his work usually combines incisive satire of both form and content. The way things are said is always as rich and funny as what is being said. However, in ‘Four Lions’... this formal and generic parody is absent... stylistically there is none of the directorial wit and experimentation seen in Morris’ series ‘Jam’... there is a sizable portion of what makes Morris pioneering and unique that is clearly missing."

The more I have thought about that since I have begun to change my mind. I saw the film again last night and it confirmed that I was probably wrong about the lack of satire of the form of film itself. (Potential spoilers ahead) I think that actually Morris is playing with the structure of movies and the way in which they can manipulate audiences to sympathise with potentially nasty characters.

I a lot of films you follow a gangster, a bank robber or some other kind of violent criminal (or even violent anti-hero) and the film is constructed in a way which makes you identify with that protagonist. When the police almost catch the crook you get nervous. If the movie was about the police, however, you'd anxiously want them to best the crook.

In 'Four Lions' Morris sticks to a conventional structure where Omar (Riz Ahmed) faces a crisis of confidence just prior to the films third act. In typical movie style he is given a pep-talk by his wife and young son, who persuade him he should, in fact, destroy himself. It's a dark and disturbing scene and the more I think about it the more I think that Morris knows exactly what he is doing by combining that sort of scene with this sort of character. He is playing with convention and structure and highlighting, almost, the dangerous power of film to manipulate an audience. The home-life scenes with Omar are quite sweet and sometimes a little cheesy, but I now think this is part of the satire.

Of both form AND content.

Anyway, that's how I feel about it now.

On a side note, I saw Bogdanovich's 'The Last Picture Show' yesterday and it was amazing from start to finish. Here is the trailer... for no real reason.

'Four Lions' review and interview with Nigel Lindsay

I have reviewed Chris Morris' new film, 'Four Lions' on Obsessed with Film here, and also interviewed one of its stars, Nigel Lindsay, here.

'Four Lions' is rated '15' by the BBFC and is out everywhere now. Check it out!

'Iron Man 2' review, plus a new Blu-ray review

I haven't updated on here for a few days (thanks in no small part to writing for Obsessed with Film), but I now have a double helping of Beames on Film action for you, with a link to a new Blu-ray review (of 'The Railway Children') and a new instalment of the podcast (in which Jon and I discuss our trip to a Disney trade expo and give our impressions of 'The Prince of Persia').

However, that is not all I present to you here today, as I have also gotten round to writing my impressions of one of this year's biggest blockbuster movies, 'Iron Man 2'. Here goes (don't read on if you are afraid of reading spoilers):



‘Iron Man 2’, Jon Favreau’s follow-up to his original 2008 Marvel comic adaptation, is probably the purest fun I have had in the cinema so far this year. There are some amazing set pieces (as in when War Machine and Iron Man team up to fight an army of robots), brilliant choreography (as in when Black Widow dispatches of a load of security goons with ease) and a great cast of actors (as in Mickey Rourke, Scarlett Johansson, Robert Downey Jr and the incredible Sam Rockwell). All of these elements combine to make ‘Iron Man 2’ one of the most enjoyable super hero movies yet.

Downey Jr is again at his charismatic and cynical best as Tony Stark (the titular Iron Man). At the very end of last year he was brilliant in Guy Ritchie’s ‘Sherlock Holmes’ and he brings this fine form into this new instalment in the ‘Iron Man’ series. Mickey Rourke does exactly as well as you’d expect as a villain (Whiplash) and Scarlett Johansson is solid as Black Widow. The stand-out performer, however, must be Rockwell who is hilarious as Stark’s business rival, Justin Hammer. His delivery is terrific, though some may be fooled by how seemingly effortless he is, for me Rockwell’s reading of the dialogue is pitch-perfect and intelligent. Admittedly a lot of Rockwell’s comic power is helped by Justin Theroux’s script, which I probably the finest superhero movie screenplay not written by Christopher Nolan.

On the downside, Don Cheadle is no replacement for Terrence Howard as Rhodey (who becomes the War Machine in this instalment). Cheadle isn’t bad exactly. He just isn’t anything like as charismatic and, well, “cool” as Howard. When Howard eyes up the Iron Man suit in the first movie and says “Maybe next time”, you think “yeah!”. But honestly, Cheadle doesn’t inspire the same excitement in me (though the War Machine scenes are still awesome). Gwyneth Paltrow is also ever so slightly annoying as Pepper Potts (Stark’s assistant) and Jon Favreau (who had a cameo in the first movie) seems to have cynically given his character (Stark’s driver) a bigger role, including his own fight scene.


There is also the matter of Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury. It was ok when he played Fury in a post-credits “Easter egg” at the end of the first film, but Jackson, as an actor, just seems cheap. The days where he seemed to represent some form of liquid cool are long behind him and (especially with his eye patch) he just cheapens every scene he is in throughout this sequel. And there are probably too many of those as the film gears up towards Joss Wheadon’s 2012 ‘Avengers’ movie.

The liberal in me hates hearing Tony Stark gloat that he has "successfully privatized peace", but to take this to heart would be a step too far. In all the Stark character is just fantastic. It is refreshing to see a super hero movie without secret identities. Everyone knows who Stark is and they love it... and he loves it. This is the main element that makes Downey Jr's Iron Man so fun to watch on screen. Stark is enjoying being a super hero most of the time and he is cocky and egotistical (without needing to wear a venom suit too).

In all though, the film is great. Really good fun. The action scenes are exciting, the funny bits are funny and the things that are supposed to excite you about future projects (nods to Captain America and Thor are present) generally do. Like its predecessor, it is no ‘Dark Knight’. But it is in that next bracket down, reserved for (in my opinion anyway) Ang Lee’s ‘Hulk’ and ‘The Incredibles’. It is certainly a lot better than ‘The Incredible Hulk’ and ‘The Fantastic Four’. For that matter it is better than ‘Clash of the Titans’ and ‘Prince of Persia’, making this the best movie of the blockbusting summer. At least until Nolan’s ‘Inception’ comes out in a few months!

'Iron Man 2' is playing wherever there are cinema screens and is rated '12a' by the BBFC.

Review: 'The Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time'

Today I reviewed the 'Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time', which I saw at the Disney expo yesterday. The full review for the blockbuster (which isn't released until May 28th) can be found at OWF, here.

I also posted a news story on there about what Mike Newell said in his introduction to the film, here.

Just to round this orgy of 'Prince of Persia' coverage out, here is the trailer:

'The Ghost' review: The Man Who Wasn't Blair

‘The Ghost’ (or ‘The Ghost Writer’ as it’s known in many places – including the film’s own end credits) is the new “political” thriller directed by Roman Polanski and adapted from a Robert Harris novel of the same name. It stars Ewen McGregor as the titular ghost, as he is tasked with writing up the memoirs of a former British Prime Minister (played by Pierce Brosnan and obviously modelled on Tony Blair) after the previous ghost writer is discovered to have drowned. However, when McGregor’s character (never named) turns up to ghost the book, he finds that the death of his predecessor may not have been an accident.

Polanski clearly knows what he is doing and the material is in capable hands. The final shot is perfect (Polanski knows the perfect time to bring up the credits), as is the long tracking shot that precedes it in the film’s closing moments. Likewise, the patience and economy of the film’s opening sequence is a joy to behold, as the dead ghost writer's car is discovered abandoned on a ferry. But unfortunately, touches of cinematic brilliance from Polanski can not prevent ‘The Ghost’ from being (at best) a mediocre film.

In many ways it is as much a homage to Hitchcock and to B-pictures as Martin Scorsese’s ‘Shutter Island’ was earlier in the year. But the latter film’s twist was more satisfying and the atmosphere more foreboding. To say nothing of the fact that McGregor is no DiCaprio: the Scottish ‘Trainspotting’ star struggles with a London accent throughout the film and to make things worse his character is (we are told more than once) supposed to be funny. Indeed he has some comic lines here and there, but McGregor robs them all of the little comic power they might have had coming from a more capable actor. There isn’t a single laugh in the film as a result. Apart from the heavy-handed nature of the end reveal, which genuinely made me laugh out loud.

Olivia Williams steals the show as the PM’s wife, giving a great performance which elevates the material. Similarly, the dependable Tom Wilkinson shows up and does his reputation no harm at all. But Kim Cattrall (soon to be seen in ‘Sex in the City 2’) is worse than even McGregor as the PM’s secretary and Brosnan’s (widely-praised) performance as the PM never rises above being merely acceptable.

The screenplay is the single worst thing in ‘The Ghost’, with the dialogue always heavy-handed and often expositional. The film, as a B-Movie or a generic thriller, deals with politics in understandably broad brushstrokes. However, the great number of parallels between Brosnan’s Adam Lang and the demonised media picture of Tony Blair are unsettling. I’m all for a film which investigates Blair as a public persona and as a man, but this film plays to every cynical, well-worn, cliché about the former PM and is content to delve no further. There is even room for a political, conspiracy thriller set in Blair’s Britain, but ‘The Ghost’ is not the film that part of recent history deserves (or maybe even demands).

Perhaps ‘The Ghost’ will age quite well as audiences grow more distant from the recent political past. Then the Blair references will seem more obscure and may add colour to the picture in giving it an interesting historical context. But as a film for this political moment (the upcoming 2010 UK election) the film’s cynicism about politics and its practitioners is at best unhelpful and at worst irresponsible. Many will say that artists have no responsibility other than to their own creative whims and they would probably be correct. But I still find ‘The Ghost’ a little distasteful all the same.

However, ignoring the problems with the historical and political aspects of the film, ‘The Ghost’ is still a slickly made, but lightweight thriller. It has bad performances (with a couple of exceptions), a worse script and the most obvious, heavy-handed twist you’ll see this year. However, if you are curious to see what could turn out to be a great filmmaker’s last movie, then you can at least see some deft touches and some nice shots, for what it’s worth.

'The Ghost' is playing across the UK and can now be seen at the Duke of York's in Brighton. It is rated '15' by the BBFC.

'Dogtooth' review over at Obsessed with FIlm now!

Just a quick update to let y'all know that my review of the Greek film 'Dogtooth' is now up at Obsessed with Film. 'Dogtooth' is yet another winner of last year's Prix Un Certain Regard (as were the excellent 'The Father of My Children' and 'No One Knows About Persian Cats', as well as a Romanian film I am yet to see). Check it out!

Just so as to ensure that no one leaves my blog empty handed, here is the trailer for the film in question:



On an unrelated note, I just wrote my first news item for OWF too, which you can read here.

IQ Gamer's David Bierton reviews 'Clash of the Titans' (3D)

I'm quite conscious of the fact that most of my reviews on here are for rather “artsy” films, mostly as a by-product of working in an arts cinema (the Duke of York’s Brighton) where I can see these kinds of pictures regularly. Even when I have ventured into the multiplex of late it has been for relatively “high brow” fare, like Tim Burton’s take on ‘Alice in Wonderland’ or Drew Barrymore’s quirky, left-field indie flick ‘Whip It’. But I don’t want to entirely neglect the simple pleasure of the summer blockbuster (I probably wouldn't be a film critic if it weren't for 'Star Wars' and 'Jurassic Park'), and so David Bierton has again kindly left the sheltered haven of his pioneering video games review blog, IQ Gamer, to share his thoughts on one of this summer's biggest event movies: 'Clash of the Titans'. Regular readers may remember Dave turned in a fine second opinion on 'Kick-Ass' earlier in the month and he does a similarly fine job here, away from his usual field:



‘Clash Of The Titans’ is a remake of the 1981 Olympian cult classic, most fondly remembered for its stellar effects work by Ray Harryhausen, whose stop-motion models inspired a generation of special effects artists and directors. And whilst not being a particularly great movie, the fact that it presented viewers with a potentially epic tale of Greek mythology and wondrous creatures made it ripe for a 21st century reworking. This 2010 re-envisioning (directed by Louis Leterrier) is based loosely on that film, adapting the overall movie towards present day teen audiences and modern day culture, hoping to deliver a more epic, action-packed approach to mythological film making.

‘Clash’ begins with our hero (Sam Worthington as Perseus) witnessing the death of his family at the hands of the gods, and left almost for dead after a brief encounter with Hades the god of the underworld. He soon finds out that he himself is a demigod, and that only he has the power to defy the gods and save the Princess Andromeda (Alexa Davalos), who must be sacrificed in order to appease the gods, or mankind will suffer the consequences. Failure to do so, and Hades (Ralph Fiennes) will unleash the Kraken, a beast so deadly it is feared by Zeus (Laim Neeson) himself. Faced with this harsh reality the people of Argus decide to send Perseus to find a way of defeating the beast and gain an all-important victory for humanity.

The film sounds off like a great mythological epic, full of weird and fantastical creatures, along with a strong ensemble of characters intertwined in their turmoil through the fates that they have brought upon themselves. It should have been a rip-roaring adventure on a massive scale, with huge battles, long journeys to lands far way, and a battle of wills between man and the gods. Unfortunately the film fails in almost every respect to convey such notions, instead being stuck largely on autopilot through an extremely poor script and by the numbers direction which leaves at lot to be desired.

Despite an all-star cast of respectable and award-winning actors, the performances on offer are pretty mundane and uninspired to say the least. Sam Worthington feels distinctly out of place as Perseus, delivering his lines with the same deep gruff voice he used for his character in ‘Terminator Salvation’, whilst also failing to convey any believable sense of emotion, instead spending his time looking down at the camera, looking moody and squinting his eyes. His dialogue means to simply move the film forward rather than to engage the audience with his plight. The role requiring someone perhaps more charismatic and down to earth, rather than someone who seems like a hardened solider mismatched as a simple fisherman.

Ralph Fiennes and Liam Neeson as gods Hades and Zeus respectively, play their roles with far more conviction, although never stretching beyond a reasonable performance. Liam Neeson especially, as an actor, seems to hold the weight and gravitas to bring the role of the Greek ‘ruler of the gods’ to life with passion and a hard-edged dominance. And he does so on occasion, showing not only Zeus’s ruthlessness but also his more compassionate side comfortably, though never strikingly. As a result you never really come to fear him, or perhaps sympathise with him either. Ralph Fiennes on the other hand delivers the film’s best performance as Hades (although nothing particularly noteworthy), he brings a sense of deception and the feeling of isolation and hatred to the role, playing it almost like a pantomime villain reserved for the likes of ‘Harry Potter’. But, it works, perhaps, more so than anyone else in the movie.

The dialogue given to most of the characters is utterly forgettable, and most disappointingly, is delivered with a style which seems at odds with an adventure set several centuries ago. For example before entering Medusa’s lair Sam Worthington’s Perseus utters “just don’t look the bitch in the eyes” before venturing in for the kill, whilst Gemma Atherton’s Lo tells him earlier in the film that she is “cursed with the gift of agelessness”. These just break any illusion of the film trying to be an action movie steeped in Greek mythology, as it simply feels like its set somewhere in the present day but with old costumes and huge beasts roaming the land. Surely replacing the word “agelessness” with the likes of “immortality” would be far more in keeping with the nature of the source material and the film itself, just to point out what exactly I mean.

Much has been made of the CG battle sequences and creatures and how they compare to the 1981 original. Suffice to say they are much better on a technological level, but some fail to convey the same sense of believability or tangible reality present with the stop-motion animation of thirty years ago. The medusa for example was a wretchedly ugly, and wholly spin-shivering creation in the original film. In the remake however, she looks far too clean, and dare I say, far too pretty for such a feared and ghastly character. The CG used for her is also extremely poor and obviously fake looking, failing to bring any sense of terror or urgency to the proceedings. Other creatures such as the giant spiders fare a little better, as do the three witches donning the single eye between them.

Sadly the battle sequences are all rather uninspired and feel like the actors are simply going through the motions. Generic ways of killing the creatures, and a general lack of imagination in a film poised to be so imaginative, turns any potential action scenes into another boring section in order to further progress the movie. Also absent from the film, is any sense of time passing and distances crossed by the characters. Instead I simply felt that they were going through scene by scene just trying to cover a number of bullet points laying out the journey to be taken, and what adversaries they were to meet along the way.

Finally the use of 3D (added in post-processing) was perhaps the films biggest mistake, as not only does it look at odds with the source material itself, it is also delivered without any of the subtly and benefit given by actually being designed and shot on 3D. Most of all the film often looks perfect for a 2D transfer, with some soft focus scenes and traditional filmic camera work delivering just a little of that classical ‘feel’ (in some scenes) that accompanies so many of these movies based on ancient mythology. It also represents how a lot of us see this particular period in history displayed on film, without the harsh grain of untouched forty-year-old film stock, along with more dramatic camera work. The 3D effect just heightens instead, the modern day, popcorn-era nature of its direction, and lack of respect for producing a great genre movie.

‘Clash Of The Titans’ is a poorly scripted, badly directed, and thoroughly misplaced re-envisioning of classic movie which was never all that good to begin with. But while the 1981 original still manages to occasionally grip the imagination with it’s tangible but old fashioned special effects, this modern day take on the story fails completely to deliver any sense of excitement or wonderment, with a small scale, and none of the epic feeling required for such a movie to really work. ‘Clash’ isn’t anywhere near being the so-called blockbuster it claims to be, or the epic mythological adventure it should have been. I can’t really recommend anyone really going to see it, even fans of the 1981 original (which it’s likely to offend) and certainly not in its 3D incarnation.

On a somewhat lighter note, some of you may be pleased to know however, that the highly annoying mechanical owl, Bubo, is mostly removed from this films existence, sans a single scene in which he is discarded. It's a little nod to the dislike of this creature amongst long time fans of the original film...

Head over to IQ Gamer to read more of Dave's stuff (about video games rather than film), although most of it's rather too technical for me!

'Clash of the Titans' is still playing everywhere in 2D and 3D (it was number two in last week's UK Box Office) and is rated '12a' by the BBFC.