'Carnage' review:

A sharp and bitterly funny attack on middle class social mores and attitudes, Roman Polanski's 'Carnage' is the kind of movie I'm easily smitten by: a tight little film which primarily takes place on one location (in real-time, no less), peddles deft social satire and zips by in a welcome 79 minutes. It's to the veteran director's credit that it never feels paired down or non-cinematic, despite being based on a stage play: French playwright Yasmina Reza's God of Carnage. Tight close-ups develop a sense of claustrophobia and Polanski's camera seems to relish the few occasions where the characters nearly escape their setting, eagerly rushing out into the hall and returning to the apartment with an air of resignation.

The film hinges around an event briefly glimpsed (from a distance) during the opening credits as one young boy hits another with a stick in a New York park. Then, in one intense, unbroken scene that ultimately seems to find equivalence in the actions of adults and children, the rest of the film takes place in the apartment of the assaulted boy's parents - Penelope and Michael Longstreet (Jodie Foster and John C. Reilly) - who have invited the other boy's parents - Nancy and Alan Cowan (Kate Winslet and Christoph Waltz) - over to discuss about what happened between their kids. It doesn't take long before the mood shifts from one of reconciliation to recrimination (and back again) as the couples turn on each other and feud amongst themselves.

Michael's overbearing attempts to play the good host and considerate husband conceal deep resentment and nihilism that are soon exposed (memorably with the bitter revelation that his wife dresses him as a liberal). Penelope is far less concerned with acting "civilised" and resolving differences than she is with asserting her moral and parenting supremacy over the Cowans. Alan is hyper-rational (or, depending on your point of view, cynical) to the point of seeming cold, aloof and more than a little rude - taking work calls throughout their meeting to the annoyance of everybody. Nancy seems to be the only one entering the situation in genuine good faith - something that's tested by extreme feelings of nausea as a result of the slightest confrontation and, later, by some potent Scotch.

The whole thing is as much about the futility of trying to bring order to chaos as it is about peering voyeuristically underneath the veneer of the characters sense of well-bred respectability. Whilst all of them interact in interesting and ever-shifting ways, the central confrontation is really between Alan, who believes in the inevitability of animalistic, amoral behaviour, and Penelope, who believes with absolute certainty that those in need should be saved and those who do wrong must be punished (according to her own uncompromising standards). Yet these extreme points of view are as easily compromised as anything else: when his phone is broken Alan is less indifferent about human cruelty and suffering, whilst Penelope is more concerned with cleaning up her coffee table books than Nancy's well-being after she suffers a fit of vomiting.

Each of the four actors are superb and wring the most from the script's faultlessly well-observed, caustic humour, though Waltz is again the stand-out performer. Several times in the last year the Academy Award-winning Austrian has been the bright spot in sub-standard films, but here he steals the show in more exalted company. His Alan is deliciously cruel and somehow intensely likable with it. You certainly want to see him get the better of Foster's shrill and conceited Penelope. Winslet gives a very subtle and believable performance, in spite of being given some of the more extreme stuff to do (throwing up and playing drunk). Reilly's innate likability and sensitivity - as the perennially put-upon schlub - are also well deployed and cleverly subverted, providing some of the funniest moments.

'Carnage' is out now in the UK, rated '15' by the BBFC.

FilmQuest 2012 (6/30): 'Chinatown':

Furthering my quixotic "FilmQuest 2012" - a mission to fill the vast, unforgivable gaps in my knowledge of film - is Roman Polanski's 1974 neo-noir classic 'Chinatown'. When I selected my arbitrary roster of 30 films I made it a rule to name no more than one by any given director, meaning that 'Repulsion', 'Cul-de-sac' and 'Rosemary's Baby' will have to wait for a future list. It's fair to say Polanski encapsulates one of those embarrassing cinema blind spots that prompted the list in the first place.

'Chinatown' is the first "classic" Polanski film I've had the pleasure of seeing and now I can see why he's considered one of the great masters of cinema - something that was not apparent upon watching his forgettable 'Oliver Twist' or rote thriller 'The Ghost Writer' (though that film is similar to 'Chinatown' in so far as its an investigation told from a subjective viewpoint). It's one of those rare films that is universally acclaimed for more or less every aspect of its production - and deserves it. What can you say about a film like that? I'm afraid I'll be reduced to simply repeating the obvious.

Robert Towne's Oscar-winning screenplay is intelligent and full of brilliant one-liners ("politicians, ugly buildings and whores all get respectable if they last long enough"). I recently discussed the films of David Fincher with friends who defended the loathsomeness of 90s thriller 'Seven' as being a poem on the decline and immorality of the modern American city. 'Chinatown' is similarly cynical and critical: indeed its hero takes a similar arc to Brad Pitt's idealistic cop in that film, ultimately realising that his attempts to do something good are futile amongst the greed and corruption of 1930s Los Angeles. But the foregrounding of specific, historically-routed political critique stops 'Chinatown' from feeling like the nihilistic ambassador for hopelessness or a cheerleader for empty despair.

The actors are also on career-defining form. Jack Nicholson is at his inimitable best as private eye Jake Gittes (who surly ranks as one of the all-time greatest movie detectives), combining his explosive intensity - that ever-present feeling that he could do or say anything - with an understated, classic movie star elegance. The great director John Huston makes a lasting impression as wealthy patriarch Noah Cross, despite only appearing in two scenes (one of which is at the very end). His courtly and genteel portrayal ensures the character looms large over the whole film.

Faye Dunaway is also perfectly cast as the seemingly poised and in-control femme fatale Evelyn Mulwray, exhibiting an underlying damaged quality that prevents her ultimate reveal as the victim from being out of the blue without robbing it of its capacity to shock. Legendary screenwriter William Goldman has said that good movies feel both inevitable and surprising and 'Chinatown' certainly has this strange seemingly contradictory quality.

And then there's Polanski. The director ensures a dialogue heavy and complicated script holds together without an ounce of fat. He apparently eliminated a Gittes voiceover from the script and tightened up the famous ending: bringing everything to a head in one climactic confrontation instead of over several more complex scenes. He also placed the film's celebrated "Forget it Jake, it's Chinatown" at the very end. The line had apparently already existed elsewhere in the script but Towne could never quite make it fit - in the end its placement is perfect, capturing the tragic futility Gittes struggle in a single phrase.

'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.