'Her', 'The Lego Movie', and 'The Armstrong Lie': review round-up

'Her' - Dir. Spike Jonze (15)

SPOILER WARNING

You meet somebody for the first time and instantly hit it off. As feelings develop, you nervously pursue a romantic relationship. The early days of that relationship are filled with laughter and a spirit of adventure - you never want to be apart from that person, who now occupies all your waking thoughts. Months go by and you settle into a bit of a muted groove. You get a phone call from that person whilst at work, and they can tell you don't want to talk. It's become slightly awkward all of a sudden, or at least there's a strange distance developing between two supposedly intimate people. Eventually it ends, possibly when one of you has outgrown the other. In Spike Jonze's 'Her', Jaoquin Phoenix's Theodore Twombly experiences something exactly like this with Samantha (portrayed by Scarlett Johansson) - the difference being that Samantha is a sophisticated OS (operating system) rather than a traditional human partner. But the rhythms and patterns and core experience of the relationship seem to be exactly the same in Jonze's non-judgmental and highly plausible account of the not too distant future.

Anyone expecting something broadly critical of our perceived contemporary over-reliance on and obsession with smartphones and computers is in for disappointment. This isn't a piece about the perils of technology, going for trite and easy targets - such as the widespread idea that we don't pay each other enough attention anymore because we're more interested in our Facebook pages. Instead it's a sincere exploration of love as a concept that looks at how this "form of socially acceptable insanity", as Theodore's sympathetic friend Amy (Amy Adams) puts it, works and what it means. If anything, Samantha's status as a non-human - as a more advanced, faster-thinking intelligence - enables the exploration and interrogation of entrenched concepts about the nature of love and traditional relationships. For instance, Samantha's ability to seemingly love potential thousands of people and fellow AIs with equal strength simultaneously (and Theodore's jealousy and indignation at this development) calls into question the possessive and perhaps selfish nature of most human love.

That's not to say the film is completely uncritical of why a person like Theodore - who Phoenix embues with tenderness, warmth and a certain lovelorn, world-weary sadness - might choose to date an OS over a human being. Through interactions with his ex-wife (Rooney Mara) we learn that he has difficulty expressing himself to others in person and finds people difficult, something also demonstrated by his career as a successful writer of other people's letters for the (I hope) fictional BeautifulHandwrittenLetters.com - with letters here almost de-romanticised as a method of communication that permits distance and perhaps even insincerity. That he's apparently a very good and well respected writer of other people's letters speaks to the fact that Theodore is not somebody who has trouble understanding emotions or feeling them, but that his difficulty lies with expressing himself openly. With the exception of a few isolated scenes (and one of those is an awkward date with Olivia Wilde's Amelia), Theodore is generally depicted alone among anonymous crowds or in his spacious apartment. But it's a sort of sun-soaked, almost triumphant isolation that seems extremely appealing, as he casually saunters around a very clean version of Los Angeles.

Perhaps dating an OS is giving him unhealthy permission to retreat further from public life, or perhaps it's the perfect relationship for somebody who's more comfortable keeping people at arms length. Do we all crave a relationship we can switch on and off? That we can put in our pocket and take on our travels? How you feel about that probably depends on your own feelings on technology and its rapid integration with every aspect of our lives, as much as it does your current mood regarding other human beings and the state of your love-life. Jonze certainly doesn't seem to be judging either way with this eerily prescient look at the future of love which, like all good science fiction, has just as much to say about the present day. 'Her' seems to show us a world we might soon inhabit, where complex relationships between humans and increasingly sophisticated synthetic life become the norm - and that's mostly OK.

'The Lego Movie' - Dir. Phil Miller and Chris Lord (U)

The worst thing I can say about Phil Miller and Chris Lord's hyperactive and characteristically gag-heavy 'The Lego Movie' is that the trailers were unquestionably front-loaded with all the best jokes. But that's not really the fault of the movie itself, which is still packed with funny moments, charming characters and surprising Lego character cameos (which I won't spoil here). It's also way more subversive and socially aware than you expect from a movie based on a toy license - with the evil President Business (Will Ferrell) using an army of robotic micro-managers to ensure optimum social conformity. In the same vein, it's a love of chart music and chain restaurants that tips off ass-kicking heroine Wyldstyle (Elizabeth Banks) to the fact that generic, smiley Lego construction worker Emmet (Chris Pratt) might not in fact be "the special" - a prophesied "master builder" who will restore free-thought and fun to a land oppressed by the tyranny of the instruction manual.

The animation is superb, with Miller and Lord using an almost stop-frame aesthetic to bring the toy world to life, but through CGI doing things you might never be able to do with traditional animation methods. The world is filled with amazing details, like the ocean made to resemble a pattern of tessellating blue and white Lego studs, whilst supporting characters like Benny the Spaceman (Charlie Day) and, yes, Batman (Will Arnett) are given life and personality that defies their limited Lego brick designs. Perhaps the best bit is that, without giving anything away, the writer-directors have managed to not only make a supremely enjoyable animated movie using the visual style and various licenses of the Lego brand, but also a film that is ultimately about Lego itself. Without being at all cheesy or seeming cynically motivated in the least, the film quickly becomes a celebration of imaginative play, creativity and childhood itself, with an enthusiasm that's infectious.

'The Armstrong Lie' - Alex Gibney (15)

Whilst not ostensibly as 'important' as his acclaimed and invariably powerful docs on corporate corruption, WikiLeaks or wars in the Middle East, Alex Gibney's look at the scandal that threw the career and reputation of cancer survivor, humanitarian and former multiple Tour De France champion Lance Armstrong into disrepute is still a compelling watch, whether you care about cycling or not. That's because, in true Gibney style, 'The Armstrong Lie' is more about our willingness (and the willingness of the news media) to be deceived by an appealing narrative than it is about sport and illegal doping practices. A cancer survivor who wasn't expected to make it comes back into the sport he never threatened to be the best at and, not only does he become a champion, but he completely dominates for the best part of a decade. It's a hopeful story about life after cancer and man's resilience in the face of adversity, so heartwarming and inspirational that everybody wanted to believe it.

That's the secret behind the Armstrong lie of the title: in spite of years of investigative journalists uncovering evidence of the athlete's use of performance enhancing drugs, in spite of testimony against him from former friends asserting that he used these drugs extensively throughout his seven Tour wins, and despite his public hiring of an Italian doctor known to be a specialist in developing ways to help cyclists cheat under the radar - he got away with it (to some extent, right up until the moment he confessed on Oprah in 2013) precisely because we all collectively willed it to be true. In his narration, Gibney admits that he was also in the thrall of Armstrong's public persona and larger-than-life success story - willing his subject to win, against the critics and fellow cyclists, during his ill-conceived 2009 comeback to professional cycling (which was originally supposed to be the focus of Gibney's documentary before the truth about Armstrong's use of drugs became public).

Armstrong is an interesting subject who, though he comes across thoroughly badly (in retrospect) in archive footage of interviews and press conferences - as he aggressively defends himself against allegations of drug use to the point where he frequently goes on the attack - is nonetheless an entertaining public speaker and frequently a charismatic presence on camera (for instance, when passionately explaining why kids love bikes). His is certainly a larger than life story worthy of telling, if in reality that's for vastly different reasons than we originally thought. What does seem clear is that the entire sport was rife with doping at the time in which he competed and your sympathy for Armstrong ultimately rests on how much you respect a professional competitor's "will to win" above all else and how much weight the "everybody else was doing it" defence carries.

Ultimately public anger at Armstrong, over and above his perhaps equally crooked fellow athletes, is perhaps completely justified and long overdue. Not only because he used drugs to build a reputation that made him a fabulously wealthy and powerful global celebrity (like no cyclist before or since), but because of what he actively tried to make himself represent and the damage his corruption does to whatever genuinely noble causes he was involved in. Gibney's doc gives him a forum to mount his case and it's one that is selfish, delusional and supremely arrogant. In retrospect the whole thing - the hero worship, the story, the celebrity, the sporting triumph - all seems so hard to believe. Gibney's film exceeds its bounds to become the story of our collective gullibility in the face of attractive mistruths.

'The Paperboy', 'Side Effects' and 'Outrage Beyond': review round-up

'The Paperboy' - Dir. Lee Daniels (15)

Trashy, pulpy and a little kitsch, Lee Daniels' follow-up to 'Precious' would be much more fun if it weren't also a little po-faced. For a film that has clear arthouse pretensions, this is the movie in which Nicole Kidman's brash, convict-obsessed Charlotte wees on Zac Efron's besotted face. It's the movie which (in one of the most bizarre, awkward and misjudged scenes I've ever seen) sees Charlotte masturbating in front of the assembled cast during a visit to her incarcerated fiance, played by John Cusack - also feverishly masturbating, as hot-shot newspapermen Matthew McConaughey, David Oyelowo and their young driver (Efron) look on speechless: confused and a little aroused. It isn't like anything else you've seen and the there are some enjoyably extreme moments, like those highlighted, but this is funny-bad where the "bad" outweighs the "funny" by some margin.

It's replete with heavy-handed montage sequences and imagery that implies some sort of deep meaning but which under close analysis seems to yield very little. There's a Macy Grey narration that could be excised without harming the film in any way and which seems confused about who it's addressing. Why Grey's housemaid is even telling the story in the first place is never made clear by Pete Dexter's screenplay, based on his own novel. There's also the sort of over the top poverty porn that made parts of 'Precious' so baffling and slightly offensive, with every lower-class character a filthy degenerate with a funny accent. It's fun to see Cusack play against type, but it's an excessive performance - though Kidman is stand-out and the rest of the cast solid - but that's hardly enough to make up for the film's many shortcomings: an investigation storyline that goes nowhere; vague commentary on late-60s racial politics that goes nowhere; and a chase sequence in the third act that is quite possibly the least tense and exciting ever committed to film. It's a mess. Shambolic filmmaking.

'Side Effects' - Dir. Steven Soderbergh (15)

Not the film you expect it to be following a twist at the halfway point, 'Side Effects' - the supposed final film of director Steven Soderbergh - is a gripping thriller that takes many an unusual turn, stretching credibility all in the name of entertainment value. Partly a commentary on the power wielded by big US pharmaceutical companies over the medical profession - and on the power of doctors over patients - and the over-prescription of anti-depressants, the cold and methodical nature of the first half is reminiscent of the dry and earnest 'Contagion'. That section of the movie sees Jude Law's charismatic and plausible psychiatrist coming to the aid of a suicidal depressive played by Rooney Mara - a patient, seduced by advertising, into demanding a particular drug which also happens to be sponsoring several of her doctors.

The second half - which I can't really write about here - is tense, gripping and hugely entertaining, though it's undeniably quite contrived and a little silly. Never more so than whenever Catherine Zeta-Jones appears as a rival psychiatrist who looks more like someone's idea of a "sexy librarian" roleplay fantasy than a medical professional. There's something exploitative about some her scenes with Mara in particular, but it didn't hamper my enjoyment of Soderbergh's latest in a run of recent (and varied) successes - that include 'Magic Mike', 'Haywire', 'The Informant!' and the aforementioned 'Contagion'. Needless to say, I hope this isn't the final feature of a progressive 50 year-old director who appears to be going from strength to strength. Like most vintage Soderbergh, this isn't a film without flaws: but it's interesting, bold and dynamic cinema full of surprises.

'Outrage Beyond' - Dir. Takeshi Kitano (TBC)

Not his most cinematic, stylish or daring work to date - being a thoroughly enjoyable and polished, but otherwise fairly standard Yakuza gangster thriller - 'Outrage Beyond' (a sequel to his earlier 'Outrage') keeps Takeshi Kitano on solid and more commercially viable ground following a period of self-reflection and experimentation. In it he plays a former mob enforcer who just doesn't give a fuck - not about the police or his criminal overlords - making him the rogue element in a society built around deference and respect for authority. He's as enjoyable a screen presence as ever, though the film seems to lose momentum whenever he's not on-screen. Most interesting is the way the film portrays the complicity of the police in mob activity, through the schemes of Fumiyo Kohinata's cynical and manipulative Detective Kataoka - perhaps the real villain of the piece.

In Defence of Rooney Mara's Sensitive Salander

The following contains spoilers relating to the ending of the recent David Fincher adaptation of 'The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo'.

I'm unable to sleep and - in lieu of any new films to review in the first few weeks of January (call me closed minded but I have no desire to sit through 'The Iron Lady' unless I have to) - I thought I'd spitball here about something that's rattling around inside my head. It relates to the very end of the David Fincher/Steve Zaillian version of 'The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo' - which I found far more interesting and exciting than the glorified TV movie that came out of Sweden a couple of years back. In fact I'm listening to the Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross soundtrack as I type this.

At the end of this new version - and I've no idea whether this is accurate to Stieg Larsson's original novel or not - punk, computer hacker, motorcyclist, bisexual, tattoo-loving Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara), unseen and from a distance, looks lovingly at male protagonist Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig). She seems to want a future with him or at the very least some affection. However she sees he's leaving his office with a female colleague and rides off into the night, her hopes dashed - feeling betrayed and, we suspect, with any residual faith in men she might have had shattered.

I bring this up because a friend of mine took to Twitter tonight feeling "betrayed" that the "antihero succumbs to the Hollywood hunk" and I think that's a gross simplification. I get where she's coming from but I think she's wrong. And rather than explain why over a series of aggressive, timeline-hogging 140 character bursts I thought I'd do so here. This post is for you Abi.

I get why you might feel betrayed by the sight of a strong female character - whose raison d'etre is, pretty much, to give men the finger - seemingly smitten by Daniel "007" Craig at the end of the movie. Even those with the mildest sensitivity to gender politics will hear alarm bells ringing during that moment if viewed in those terms. But the more I've pondered this scene the more impressed I've become with the film - to the point where I feel driven to defend it at length and at 2am.

My defence of the offending scene can be divided into two neat categories. Firstly, to lead with the more dispassionate rebuttal, I find this climax to be a tidy piece of screenwriting from Steve Zaillian. Basically he creates an ending where none truly exists (at least in the Swedish version). This is our hero at the culmination of her arc: will she find a last shot at redemption in Craig? Can she live a "normal" life now? Or will she always be a damaged, untrusting outsider? The answers are "no", "no" and "yes" respectively.

The open-ended Swedish film (below) seems far more cynical to me. It ended in a way which suggested (and indeed yielded) further episodes of a grim detective serial. It acted as a pilot for a formula TV series, making us wonder "what ever will the mismatched duo solve next week?" Zaillian gives his version a pleasing sense of dramatic resolution, even if the ending itself is not exactly heart-warming. It also ensures the film isn't totally nihilistic and totally black hearted, which I think is a good thing.

This rather sombre, hopeless climax sees Lisbeth potentially doomed to play this avenging angel character for the rest of her life. That she rides off into the darkness alone, and further embittered, is not, to my mind at least, a typical "Hollywood" ending.

Secondly, and more to the point, this ending absolutely satisfied me in terms of what it said about the character. This is not the blank psychopath - that walking revenge fantasy with spikey hair - as played (to perfection) by Noomi Rapace. Her only visible emotions were barely concealed fury and contempt for humankind. In Fincher and Zaillian's version Lisbeth is a genuine and troubled person. She is allowed to show fear and distress. She is even allowed to smile. She is tough, for sure, but she is also vulnerable and in need of salvation. You never had any doubt Rapace would kick everbody's asses, whilst you worry about Rooney Mara even though she is super-smart and (as evidenced by the attempted mugging scene) not exactly helpless.

Crucially, it does not escape her own notice that she is increasingly as depraved as those who've wronged her and this is the film's single biggest strength.

In the Swedish version (my only other frame of reference for the character) she is a sexual predator when she - out of nowhere - decides to sleep with Blomkvist. In the "American" version (a tricky term in itself, with the film shot in  Sweden with a predominantly Swedish crew under the stewardship of the same Swedish production company) this scene plays differently. Here is an undercurrent that this is another manifestation of her own history, as a victim of sexual violence. She gives up her body very casually, not in the manner of one who is free and liberated but as one who has been desensitised against the act.

I think an extra layer of depth is revealed if we consider her backstory too: Lisbeth has spent most of her life in the custody of the state because she once set fire to her abusive father (a history hinted at in the opening credits, which run like an S&M enthusiasts version of a Bond title sequence). In a creepy kind of way she comes to see Blomkvist as a surrogate father - further complicating that ending, I think.

The relationship between Salander and Blomkvist is pleasingly nuanced. She is hostile when she first meets him, so I don't think Craig's "hunkiness" has much to do with anything. What she seems to respond to is (obviously) his desire to bring a killer of women to justice, but equally the fact that he is a loving, gentle father. There are several scenes which show us Blomkvist's teenage daughter and these seemingly exist solely to form this link in our mind. He is paternal and she craves a daddy. When she asks his permission before racing off to kill the baddie near the climax, is this a sign of weakness on her part? Perhaps. Perhaps there's even a trace of sadism. But I don't think it's as simple as a woman supplicating herself to a man.

It's also relevant to mention three key details in passing. Firstly, Lisbeth solves the central crime story faster than Craig (who is pretty lost without her). Secondly she saves him from certain death after he sheepishly blunders into the murderers house. It is then Lisbeth who pursues the villain to his end, having the final say. Thirdly, it's even Lisbeth that does Blomkvist's regular job for him: clearing his name (he's a journalist who's been falsely accused to making his stories up) and putting a major corporate criminal in prison. Lisbeth Salander three, Mikael Blomkvist nil.

This brings me back to that ending. When Mara looks at Craig she isn't seeing that rippling torso from the 'Casino Royale' promotional stills. Or even a great man who saved the world (he isn't). She sees the one person who hasn't let her down. The guy who's been nice to her and the guy who, in many ways, offers a shot at the father she never had. Again: this is creepy. But whatever you can say about it, it's not exactly what one would term a typical, cop-out, "sentimental" Hollywood ending even if she ended up with the guy. Which let's remember: she doesn't.

But let's brush all that to one side. Let's dismiss all of the above and take the text at face value, ignoring for a second all the themes and the arc of the character. Let's say she is in love with hunky Craig and is simply crestfallen when he doesn't seem to return her affections. I leave you with these questions: How is that ending either phony or anti-feminist or "Hollywood"? Doesn't heartbreak really happen to people? Doesn't love? Don't women get their feelings hurt? Speaking from personal experience, I know men do. Now I'm off to bed.

'The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2011)' review:

Having hated the Swedish film adaptations of Stieg Larsson's "Millennium Trilogy" - a series of unspeakably nasty TV movies - I wasn't looking forward to spending another 2 1/2 hours in that disturbing world courtesy of David Fincher's new English language version of 'The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo'. I never doubted Fincher's take would be slicker, more artful and, as a consequence, a more gripping experience than its European forbear, but I couldn't imagine taking any pleasure in the company of vengeful, anti-social computer hacker Lisbeth Salander (now played by Rooney Mara) and her boring investigative journalist friend Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig).

The 2009 film played like a boring sub-Agartha Christie detective story with bagfuls of added sadism, as we watch see our heroine subjected to every kind of injustice, and are afterwards expected to relish her "eye for an eye" take on brutal sexual violence. Yet this version at least understands that two rapes don't make a right.

Despite Fincher's reputation as a cold hearted bastard behind the movie camera, his version of the story (as scripted by Steven Zaillian) is a little more humane and, as a result, infinitely more enjoyable even if it retains all of the original's most unpalatable moments. It helps that this Lisbeth doesn't spend the entire film looking either indifferent or angry at the world, as Noomi Rapace's did. She is every bit as cold, sullen, bad-ass and capable (in a fight and as an ace investigator) when she needs to be, living in an equally gritty version of modern Sweden, but Mara brings out more of the character's vulnerability and fear, playing her as a tragic figure - a lifelong victim of violence at the hands of sadistic men.

With Mara's nuanced Salander even showing some affection and warmth, as well as contempt for manfolk, we can see her as more than just a leather clad angel of vengeance, every bit as "evil" as those she despises. She is a person who we feel for: whose triumphs we enjoy and whose relationships we can invest in. She is in fact a much more interesting character than the story she inhabits - a motorcycle riding punk with a photographic memory and a past she'd rather forget.

Whilst there are stomach turningly nasty sequences, mostly of a sexual nature, less emphasis is placed on violence in this version and, when Salander is transgressive, we relate that more to her troubled back-story and precarious mental health, instead of being encouraged to view her as an anti-hero and potential outlet for fantasies of "fuck you" nihilism. Mara enjoys good on-screen chemistry with Craig - who makes for an almost equally engaging Blomkvist - whilst the presence of Christopher Plummer, Stellan Skarsgård, Joely Richardson and Steven Berkoff, in the ranks of the nefarious family of aristocratic former Nazis, gives the dialogue some heft.

The book's tired murder mystery storyline - with Blomkvist invited to a remote island by an old patriarch in order to investigate the 40 year-old disappearance of a young girl - retains some crippling structural problems: Blomkvist and Salander don't meet until halfway through, whilst three separate plot threads never really connect satisfactorily. Yet this rote whodunit benefits from the overall improvement in cast, atmosphere and some typically inventive directorial choices. Sound is especially key to its success, as aided by a score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross (fresh from Fincher's 'The Social Network'), this is consistently tense where the other film was just boring.

'The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo' is out now in the UK, rated '18' by the BBFC.