December's episode of 'Flick's Flicks' and R.I.P Irvin Kershner (1923-2010)

December's episode of 'Flick's Flicks' film preview show has gone up on the Picturehouse website. It's my last show as guest host - though I maybe back at some point in the future for one reason or another. Regular host Felicity (AKA Flick) will be back next month.

This month I suggested my top five films of the year (although these may differ from my final list on this blog in January!) and previewed 'Catfish', 'Somewhere', 'Love and Other Drugs' and 'Rare Exports'.

Thanks to Gabriel Swartland at Picturehouses and James Tucker, the show's director and editor, for their support during the last six months of shows. And a very big thank you to Flick herself for asking me to host the show in her absence.

Finally, on an unrelated note, I was sad to learn that the director of the best 'Star Wars' film passed away last weekend at the age of 87. Irvin Kershner directed the first 'Star Wars' sequel 'The Empire Strikes Back', which was released in 1980 and is widely regarded as superior to the original. I must confess that I don't know much more about Kershner's work, which includes the likes of 'RoboCop 2' and the unofficial Bond film 'Never Say Never Again', so for a proper obituary I recommend this one on the A.V. Club site. As a huge fan of 'Empire' I wanted to pay my respects here with a video of one of the film's finest moments, which I think highlights the human dimension Kershner, along with screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan, brought to George Lucas' space opera.

'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One' review: All's well that ends well?

I have never read, or even been tempted to read, a Harry Potter book. Nor have I enjoyed the series of films J.K Rowling's writing has inspired which having begun in 2001 with 'The Philosopher's Stone' - and due to conclude next year - now span (and for some possibly define) a cinema-going decade. For me there has always been something very twee about these stories - set within a boarding school for witches and wizards - and something incredibly establishment about their very existence and place in the "British" film industry. Worse still, it has always felt like the series' best ideas and characters had been stolen wholesale from other works: books by Roald Dahl, C.S Lewis and J.R.R Tolkien. And with Warner Brothers having eschewed hiring Terry Gilliam (the author's publicly stated preferred choice) these uninspiring tales have also been beset by a succession of similarly uninspiring filmmakers.

'Home Alone' director Chris Columbus helmed the first two movies, making films of almost staggering blandness. Some brief respite was given to the series' in the form of the third outing, 'The Prisoner of Azkaban', as darling of the Mexican New Wave Alfonso Cuarón brought to that film a more naturalistic approach in the acting (especially in the film's young cast) as well as a darker colour palette and some more imaginative shot choices. Yet it was still ultimately a pretty poor film, still weighed down by interminably dull scenes of "Quidditch" and even featuring Lenny Henry. But whatever its flaws, the series' third chapter was enriched by Cuarón as director. Though it would be short lived, as soon Harry Potter was thrust firmly back into cinematic mediocrity once again with the Mike Newell directed fourth film boring me near to tears when I saw it at the cinema in 2005.



It is strange that having gone through three established film directors the series would find its salvation in the hands of a little known British TV director. David Yates, prior to directing the fifth Potter film, 2007's 'The Order of the Phoenix', was best known for directing edgy TV dramas 'State of Play', 'Sex Traffic' and 'The Girl in the Cafe'. It was the same sort of left-field logic that had led Warner Brothers to hire Cuarón off the back of his sexually explicit 'Y Tu Mamá También' and, as with that choice, it has proven to be inspired - though this wasn't evident right away. 'The Order of the Phoenix', still bound by the setting of Hogwarts school and its myriad of dreary lessons and irksomely quirky teachers, was only a marginal improvement on its forbears. It was actually with 'The Half-Blood Prince', the sixth film in the series, that Yates really turned things around.

'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince' is relatively light on action. It is a slower, more character based film which found the leads - Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint and Emma Watson - now able to act. It was intense and visceral in a way never before attempted by these films, and in a way missing from most modern kids films in general. There were more interesting characters and themes, as it looked at the school life of the series' arch-villain Tom Riddle (AKA Voldemort) and also made other perennial villains more human, such as Draco Malfoy, played by Tom Felton. Once a two-dimensional, snarling school bully, Draco was here portrayed as a troubled child in the middle of an identity crisis, torn apart as he struggled with the moral implications of his family's allegiance with "the dark Lord" and his growing unease at his own grave part in their evil schemes.



Yet even when these films were not terrible, they were forever bringing out the cynic and the pedant in me as a viewer. I was forever asking "why are they doing that?", "how come that's suddenly possible?" and "why didn't they think to do that two scenes ago?" My problem was often that the films' internal logic seemed inconsistent and muddled. Often Potter himself seemed like a, frankly, shit protagonist. He was forever being saved by some contrived deus ex machina (such as the magical sword at the end of film two) or by his teachers. He was always being told exactly what to do, every step of the way. For example, when in film four he has make a golden egg reveal a clue, it takes Robert Pattinson telling him to "try giving it a bath", followed by another character telling him to "try putting in into the water" when he gets there - so unable is he to make that logical leap. My girlfriend was always saying "it makes more sense in the books". But I don't care. These films should make sense in their own right, or else they are just expensive fan-service.

The reason I have chosen to begin my review of the latest installment, 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One', with this account of my own history with these films is two-fold. Firstly, I wasn't reviewing films when these came out and I wanted to state my position on them here. Secondly, I thought it important to provide a context for my unabashed praise of this latest film. For in 'Deathly Hallows Part One' I have found a Potter film I can actually enjoy.



Never before have two films in the same franchise seemed so totally alien to each other as 'Philopher's Stone' and 'Deathly Hallows' must look placed side-by-side. (OK, maybe the Bond series has changed more over its near fifty years of being, but these Potter movies are direct sequels less than ten years apart.) 'Deathly Hallows Part One' is not a film in which Potter inflates his nasty auntie into a balloon or takes part in a "Triwizard Tournament" or tastes bogey flavoured magic sweeties. It is a film which opens on a scene of torture and murder (of a bound and weeping school teacher no less), in which one of Harry's friends is casually killed off screen and another dies bleeding in his arms. The first time we see Harry's friend Hermione Granger she is tearfully erasing herself from her parents' memory so as to keep them safe. Whilst the fourth film boasted Jarvis Cocker singing a song called "Do the Hippogriff", this seventh film sees Harry turn on a radio to hear "O Children" by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, to which he and Hermione temporarily relieve their gloom with a melancholic dance, in an emotionally charged scene which I'm told doesn't exist in the book. It's a moment which will probably be ignored for being in a Harry Potter blockbuster, but I feel a similar moment in a "serious" film would receive more attention.

If 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone' was like a Famous Five story, then this new film feels like something out of Cormac McCarthy's The Road. The bleak, recognisably English landscapes are desolate and our heroes are often alone, uncertain whether anyone they know has survived. There is precious little comedy relief in this chapter. Which is nice as the "gags" in previous Potter movies have been woeful. What lightness and humour there is comes from the central three characters friendship which seems more real then ever before - perhaps as a result of the fact that these child actors have genuinely grown up together (one of the series' real pleasures). Yates' Potter films have been enriched by their taking place in a more recognisable, and even banal, world. The last film saw Yates stage a deadly Voldemort attack on London's Millennium Bridge (a modern and lesser known landmark as of yet untouched by Michael Bay or Roland Emmerich) and similarly 'Deathly Hallows' presents a modern, lived-in and refreshingly normal picture of London - neither touristy or excessively grimy. Yates has realised that in making the "muggle" (non-magical) world less wondrous a place, the magic of Potter & co. is given room to be all the more exciting by contrast.



So it is that the chase sequence near the film's start is the most exciting bit of action from any chapter of the series. As Harry flips around a tunnel to dodge cars on his motorcycle (well, more accurately Hagrid's motorcycle - Harry is in the side-car) it is Harry and his friends integration into a more convincing "real world" setting that makes it work. There are also far fewer times when things are over-explained to us via Harry, or where the the heroes actions cease making sense and robbed of Dumbledore as a benevolent, omnipotent guide, it is up to Harry, Hermione and Ron to solve the film's problems. And as the stakes have never been higher (this is after all the first part of the series' finale) the film is also much more involving than those that came before.

It is rare to find a film series that actually grows up with its audience. When George Lucas made his much-maligned 'Star Wars' prequels, fans felt he'd infantilised the saga. Those films, with the slapstick comedy of Jar Jar Binks and an increased pandering to the "toyetic", certainly feel as though they are aimed at a young audience rather than the thirty-somethings who grew up with the original trilogy. In contrast, these films (I imagine thanks to the books) do seem to be going on a journey with their young audience. Children that started off with 'Philosopher's Stone' have a film in 'Deathly Hallows' that they can enjoy ten years on and which may actually frighten and excite them.



'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One' is in a different league to its predecessors. It's consistently tonally serious and dark, whereas even the last film would switch uneasily between tragedy and light-hearted comedy all in the space of a scene (note the sudden change from talking about a central character's murder to talking about Harry's latest crush in the final scene of 'Half-Blood Prince'). It also better develops its characters and benefits from a more interesting story with higher stakes. The distracting array of British actors hamming it up is also less of a problem here, as most of our time is spent in the company of the three children.

Perhaps my only real criticism is that it wouldn't work on its own: you need to have seen the other films and/or read the books to understand it. This is to be expected as it's a conclusion (or at least the beginning of one), but I would hesitate to recommend this film to newcomers or to label it any kind of classic. It will always be bound up with the other, less good films which have sadly already undermined this story. It is a shame then that it took four films before Yates took the reins. Although maybe some of this film's pleasure does come from its stark contrast with the earlier chapters - and with the Columbus years in particular. Perhaps it only works because those films exist: because the brightly lit, Christmas card aesthetic of the earlier efforts is there to be subverted in this way. Whatever the reason 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One' worked for me - a self-described Potterphobe - it did work. As a result I find myself in the unlikely position of looking forward to next year and 'Part Two'. Perhaps, as far as the Harry Potter movies are concerned, all's well that ends well.

'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One' is rated '12A' by the BBFC - for being bloody scary, I'd imagine.

'The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest' review:

Noomi Rapace is back as that girl with the dragon tattoo and a penchant for playing with fire. This time, apparently, she has developed a taste for kicking hornets' nests. Although those with chronic cnidophobia need not look away for this is a metaphorical nest and, as with her previous adventures, the hornets are sexually violent men in positions of power as opposed to big, angry wasps. 'The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest' is the concluding part of a series of Swedish-made film adaptations of Stieg Larsson's widely adored Millennium Trilogy novels, which follow the bisexual, ace computer hacker Lisbeth Salander as she attempts to bring to justice the various men who have wronged her - like a goth version the Bride from 'Kill Bill'. As in the previous installments, she is aided by top investigative journalist and full-time man-whore Mikael Blomkvist (Mikael Nyqvist).

Whilst the first two parts of the trilogy worked as more or less standalone episodic detective stories, this final chapter picks up exactly where the second installment left off and heavily references events and characters from the first two films throughout. With Lisbeth spending most of the film either in hospital, in prison or on trial, 'The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest' is also much less action packed than the previous films. That is not to say that this entry lacks scenes of violence, but it is a far cry from the 18-rated original and, tellingly, the film's most horrific sequence is a scene lifted directly from that first movie, played to a courtroom courtesy of a clandestine recording.



Lisbeth Salander has been through some truly horrible events: beaten up by gangs of armed men; repeatedly raped by her legal guardian; and incarcerated in a mental institution at the age of twelve as the result of a shady government conspiracy. Yet she is still a manifestly unlikeable creation. She is a charmless psychopath and when she is forced to defend herself against charges that she is mentally unstable it is hard not to feel like her despicable, paedophile assailants at least have a bit of a point - although their reasons for making it are obviously not on the level. Again, like Thurman's Bride character, Lisbeth is hellbent on bloody, callous revenge in a film which thinks old testament "eye for an eye" justice is for wishy-washy Guardian readers. It is true that the film always totally convinces you that these balding, sinister Vince Cable-alikes deserve every bit of what Lisbeth gives them, but therein is the reason I hate these films so much.

Lisbeth's violent, sociopathic actions are understandable: after all they are being committed by a troubled individual who has received constant abuse at the hands of these wicked individuals. But these villains aren't human beings: they are monsters. Again, much like Tarantino's 'Kill Bill' films, as well as the likes of 'Sin City' and 'Death Wish', these films use sexual violence as a pretext for enabling us to indulge in guilt-free revenge fantasies that play to the very worst of our nature. I'm not excusing myself here. I too get that sense of vitriol when I get to see the rapist, paedophile, Nazi man get seven shades of shit kicked out of him: but its not a feeling I choose to nurture. Not to mention there is something very contrived and cynical about the way we are manipulated in films like these to feel so reactionary as unambiguous hate figures are offered to us just as the Aztecs offered still-beating human hearts to their gods. There is nothing interesting about straight-up monsters as characters either. Which is why all the best actual monsters are given human characteristics and their own set of internal conflicts (Dracula, Jekyll and Hyde, Beauty and the Beast). The baddies here are pure evil and as such they are totally boring.



I will say this for 'The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest': Noomi Rapace again completely disappears into the role of Salander, physically and emotionally transforming herself. The films best moment is when she walks into the courtroom to defend herself against charges of mental incompetence dressed in some sort of black leather, chainmail garb and sporting a huge mohican. This is the character giving the finger to the trial, refusing to back down on who she is just to conform and make things easy. It is also a gesture of supreme confidence. She is telling her persecutors that she can do as she likes because she knows she will win. That is where this story is strongest, as (although I'm not her biggest fan) in Lisbeth Salander there is a protagonist unlike any other, even if the dreary world she inhabits is from generic-revenge-thriller-land.

I have been eagerly awaiting this film for a few months now. Having really disliked the first two movies, I was getting a little sick of seeing that same poster image in cinemas for the third time in the space of a year and longed to put this whole seedy, dour, sadomasochistic enterprise behind me once and for all. Sadly this doesn't mark the end, as David Fincher is now busily helming an American adaptation of the same set of books. Although you can at least be certain that, whatever the American version is like, Fincher's film will feel less like a post-watershed episode of an ITV3 drama and more like a feature film.

'The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest' is out now in the UK and is rated '15' by the BBFC.

CINECITY: 'Never Let Me Go' review:

It is a rare thing in this day and age to go into a film without knowing anything about it. Thanks to the internet's insatiable demand for new content, every second of every day, it is now fairly standard that we can find out almost anything about an upcoming film before it's been made. As a result we are seldom surprised. Barely a secret cameo goes unspoiled and by the time of the first trailer every set-piece or punchline has been revealed. It was a nice change then to walk into Mark Romanek's 'Never Let Me Go' expecting one thing and finding another.

Admittedly I hadn't been hoodwinked by an elliptical marketing campaign, but rather by my own prejudice. Watching a trailer or reading anything about Kazuo Ishiguro's 2005 novel, upon which the film is based, would have given me some idea about what to expect. But happily I went in blind and was rewarded. You see all I knew about 'Never Let Me Go' was that it starred Carey Mulligan, Andrew Garfield and Keira Knightley and I assumed that it was some kind of plummy, award-baiting British drama. How pleased I was to be proved so wrong by this dark and subtle dystopian sci-fi story.



I explain all this because it puts my appreciation of the film in its context. Had I been an admirer of the novel, or had I gone in with my expectations raised any higher, then maybe I wouldn't have found the film anywhere near as fascinating as I did. And as it was I did find it fascinating.

I am reluctant to say too much here about the plot of the film, in the hope that you might have a similar experience to mine when watching it. Instead I'll talk a little about how I feel about it. American critic Marshall Fine concluded in the Huffington Post that with 'Never Let Me Go' "what you end up with is a staid, lifeless tale that never talks about what it's about, or at least not enough to provoke deep thoughts on the subject." I couldn't agree less with that assessment personally. I think the great strength of the film lies in the fact that nothing is ever openly discussed.



Too many sci-fi films get caught up in their own mythology, or their own supposed cleverness, and end up just having their characters exchange cod philosophical arguments as the tedium mounts (step forward 'The Matrix' and, more recently, 'Inception'). By contrast in 'Never Let Me Go' Romanek succeeds in creating a mood which is at times quite affecting and lends itself to contemplation. Instead of being told what to think about the film's dystopian society we are allowed to reflect on it ourselves. In fact the central characters' refusal to really discuss the wrongs of their condition is quite haunting and lends an amount of quiet tragedy to proceedings.

The look of the film is similarly effective, as it is always at once picturesque and melancholy, with the pathetic fallacy of overcast skies throughout. The actors are also good across the board. I am not the biggest fan of Keira Knightley, but she is utterly convincing here, as is the ever-excellent Mulligan - though between this and 'Wall Street 2' she seems to be forging a reputation as Hollywood's go-to girl for on-screen weeping. Andrew Garfield, who I first saw and enjoyed in 'The Social Network' and who I am now eagerly anticipating as the new Spider-Man, is also very good, again playing a gentle and sympathetic character.



'Never Let Me Go' is absorbing, well-acted and raises a number of interesting ethical questions. Like all good science fiction it also reflects upon our lives now and - again, without wishing to divulge plot information - makes us ultimately question our own existence and sense of purpose. It manages to do all this without ever preaching or getting especially high on itself, and all within a well paced two hours which doesn't feel artificially drawn-out. Whether fans of the novel will feel the same, I couldn't say. I have read that the story's central reveal is made much earlier in this film version (presumably in what is, in all honesty, a fairly weak scene featuring Sally Hawkins) and it is possible that a later reveal would be much more raw and emotionally jarring. But all in all I was very pleasantly surprised by the film I saw.

'Never Let Me Go' is rated '12A' by the BBFC and is released in the UK on the 21st of January next year.

CINECITY: 'The American' review:

According to David Thompson all that stands in the way of George Clooney becoming a modern day Carey Grant is his smugness. Well, I don't think Cary Grant and George Clooney are very similar performers anyway, but that aside I don't really understand the oft-levelled accusation of smugness. I suppose what many people are referring to is his screen persona defining role in Steven Soderbergh's 'Ocean's 11' re-make and its two sequels. In those films Clooney is stylish, cool and in control - the definition of a suave so-called "silver fox" - with every reason to be smug. Whilst watching Clooney's latest film, Anton Corbijn's low-key spy thriller 'The American', it was presumably this view of the actor's image that led a colleague to lean over and whisper that they felt the film to be "one prolonged Clooney wink". I think I know what she meant.

Throughout his recent career, Clooney has demonstrated a knowing tendency to play counter to his star persona, which he does with varying degrees of subtlety and success. Often he will play a broad buffoon, as in such films as 'Burn After Reading' and 'The Men Who Stare at Goats'. At other times he will "go normal", as in 'Syriana' where he put on weight and sported an unkempt beard. But at his best he subverts his image without running away from it anything like as obviously. For instance in last year's 'Up in the Air' he would seem to be playing exactly the same 'Ocean's 11' huckster, only (thanks to director Jason Reitman's trademark cynicism) we see a character who is ultimately left stranded in a facsimile of a life: vacuous and unfulfilled beneath a suave and in control facade. It's like watching Danny Ocean's midlife crisis.



In 'The American' Clooney is again playing up to and against type. Put simply: 'The American' is like 'Up in the Air' with added sex and violence - and without jokes. As Jack, an ageing hitman, Clooney is again faced with the realisation that his lifestyle hasn't allowed him to make any meaningful connections with friends and lovers. He is again handsome and cool - seemingly the creation of another male wish fulfillment fantasy - yet he is an empty vessel. The relationships he does have are fleeting and built on lies (for instance false identities) and, as we learn in the film's brilliantly executed and deathly cold opening sequence, these encounters can also go very wrong. Here Clooney lives the life of James Bond: he beds glamorous women; drives sports cars around beautiful Italian towns; and wears a pistol inside his dinner suit. But he doesn't enjoy it. In fact, quite unlike Bond (well, at least old school Bond), Clooney spends most of the film moping around looking quite depressed. Soon he resolves to quit the hitman racket after undertaking that "one last job" demanded by movie convention. Oh, and along the way things are made more difficult by a gang of Swedish hitmen who are bent on killing him.

For all intents and purposes, 'The American' is a thriller without many thrills. Most of the time it is ironically a very European exercise in introspective slow cinema. We watch long silent takes in which Jack makes a rifle (without enjoying it), or takes a country drive (without enjoying it). Like the Polish thriller 'Essential Killing', Anton Corbijn's follow-up to 'Control' is scant on action and more interested in character study. Only, whilst it is attractively shot and nicely lit (if formally unspectacular), it is ultimately lacking in any real feeling or, dare I say, point. Clooney is left to carry the film and inject into it some life, but unfortunately for the star that proves to be a thankless task. He has those big, sad eyes worked out to a fine art, but ultimately the film feels somehow hollow and fairly dull.



Corbijn and his star have seemingly set out to deconstruct and critique the spy genre, though in fact they only really end up repeating its cliches in a more boring contect without delivering anything especially thoughtful or philosophical. From the trite theme of the hitman's relationship with a local priest, to the prolonged shots of Violante Placido's exposed breasts, 'The American' is simply a very earnest telling of a familiar story. It is especially during scenes of sexuality that the film is at its most disappointingly conventional as we are presented with females as sex objects whilst Clooney remains clothed (save for one brief shot of his rear) and sometimes even disappears off camera, leaving us to leer at a beautiful topless Italian lady. Even 'Casino Royale' employed a Laura Mulvey defying female gaze as Daniel Craig emerged from the sea with his shimmering torso. Yet 'The American' is rooted firmly in the misogyny of the cinematic past.

Perhaps that is the point. After all the film's poster is overtly retro in its styling. But I for one can't see whatever commentary is intended by it, other than that being a sociopathic killer can make you a bit lonely. I certainly didn't feel very much for the main character in this quite ordinary film which seems to be aiming for something profound and ends up failing to even deliver the cheapest of thrills. Oh well George. At least you looked classy in it and, if it's any consolation, I doubt Cary Grant would have pulled it off any better.

'The American' has been rated '15' by the BBFC and is released in the UK on the 26th of November.

CINECITY: 'The King's Speech' review:

When Jeff Bridges won the Oscar for Best Actor at this year's Academy Awards, for his turn in 'Crazy Heart', Colin Firth was considered to be the unlucky loser. In truth, after picking up every award going en route to that ceremony, the Oscar was always going to go to Bridges on the night - a fact Firth himself repeatedly acknowledged in the run up - but there were many who felt that it ought to have gone to the English actor for his compelling performance as a suicidal, homosexual professor in Tom Ford's 'A Single Man'. Yet there is a feeling that it could be second time lucky for Firth who has, seemingly undeterred by that defeat, brushed himself down and taken another swing at it right away, playing the role of King George VI in the award-baiting historical drama 'The King's Speech'.

Firth, along with his director Tom Hooper ('The Damned United') and co-stars Helena Bonham Carter and Geoffrey Rush, will have every reason to approach next year's ceremony with confidence following the film's enthusiastic response in Toronto where it was bestowed the audience award. In the last few year's winners of that award have included the likes of 'Slumdog Millionaire' and 'Precious' and there is a growing feeling that Firth - and quite possibly his co-stars - are due to be, at the very least, among the names nominated.



'The King's Speech' is inspired by real life events that apparently saw the stammering man who would be king, Prince Albert ("Bertie" to his mates), seek out the help of every speech therapist in the Kingdom in an attempt to improve his public speaking. Just when he has abandoned all hope at ever finding a cure, his dedicated wife (Bonham Carter as the Queen Mum) tracks down an unorthodox Australian by the name of Lionel Logue (Rush) who swears he can correct the royals speech - so long as the treatment is done on his terms as with his other (more common) patients. To complicate matters, Bertie's speech impediment becomes a greater concern as his brother Edward's (Guy Pearce) relationship with an American divorcée brings him unexpectedly to the throne.

Also looming in the background is the spectre of the Second World War and the Nazi's charismatic leader Adolf Hitler. When watching a newsreel of the dictator speaking at a rally, Bertie's daughter Elizabeth (the future queen) asks "what is he saying papa?" "I don't know, but he seems to be saying it rather well." It is vital then that in the mass media age Bertie must not only speak, but be able to inspire an Empire that spans the globe. But alongside these lofty concerns sits a personal story - that of the fraught friendship between two men of very different backgrounds: Bertie and Lionel.



The resultant film is, at best, a thematic mess that (as with many biographical films) indulges in cod psychology as it explores its subject. The films feeling towards the Windsor clan is a little confused. On one hand there are frequent (and fairly funny) jokes made at the expense of the upper class: "your physicians are idiots" chides Lionel. "They've all be knighted!" replies Bertie incredulously. "That makes it official then" responds the Australian. There are also numerous moments where the royals very real contempt for the average person comes into full view, and other moments where they seem downright horrid to one another. But ultimately the film is rather smitten with these characters and its treatment of the royal clan is nostalgic and sometimes downright celebratory. Even the Nazi sympathising of Bertie's brother David (the disgraced King Edward VIII) is never really dealt with explicitly. It is alluded to at several points, but 'The King's Speech' is so set on pleasing the establishment that it avoids too much unsavoury history.

Perhaps the film is especially troubling coming now, at a time of economic crisis where the tax payer is apparently due to pick up the bill for a wealthy young billionaires wedding, as it continues to peddle a number of unpalatable myths. At one point the Queen Mum-to-be likens the heavy burden of royal obligation to a form of indentured servitude - admittedly in jest, but the lines humour comes from its perceived truth: that these noble people are in some way suffering a life of slavish public service (jetting around the world waving at people and occasionally posing for photos whilst skiing).



In some sense, the narrative's central problem is also ever so slightly pathetic. The king must labour to read aloud a speech that he hasn't written, about events he will play no practical part in shaping. He literally just has to say the words. And he can't do that. His only bloody job. I'm not intending to sound glib or churlish about those with speech impediments, including George VI who I am sure possessed some measure of courage and a certain steely resolve in order to speak publicly. But the great historical and social weight placed on this personal struggle sums up our supposed love affair with our supposed betters. "Well done!" we are geared up to gamely cheer as the very well kept and expensively educated monarch learns to pronounce his 'P' sounds. Honestly, good for him. But let's not hold a street party.

As infuriating as that premise might be though, it is one which is carried off with disarming humour. Straight after the ultimate speech, his first wartime radio address, Lionel tells Bertie "you still stuttered on the 'W'" to which the king replies "I had to throw a few of them in so they knew it was me". It is to the credit of everyone involved that this film remains affable, watchable and entertaining from start to finish in spite of its royalist ways. Geoffrey Rush is especially likable and funny, whilst Firth is again in good form. His stutter is consistent and improves subtly throughout the film. Structurally it seems to take a wrong turn when the last half hour seems to build to two climaxes (the coronation and the radio address) but it is generally well paced stuff and decently executed stuff.



It is also sometimes "a little bit Richard Curtis", when moments of comedy come entirely out of the sound of an upper class English twit using words like "tits", "willy" and "shit". In fact, Firth is in a couple of scenes required to string together great reams of "fucks" and "buggers" during his sessions with Rush's therapist. Despite this heavy use of profanity the BBFC awarded the film a '12A' certificate, even though 'Made in Dagenham' was earlier this year controversially awarded a '15' for use of the same swear words. This has led to allegations of classism against the BBFC, who many commentators suppose have seen upper class swearing as non-threatening and funny, whilst working class swearing is violent and even potentially revolutionary. Whatever the truth behind that accusation (and I certainly see some) this particular humorous element felt cheap.

Whether or not the film's decent performances are going to prove Oscar winning, we'll find out next year. I certainly don't think the films romanticised picture of the monarchy will be much of a problem for American audiences and it is precisely the sort of backwards looking, period fare that sells all too well in the colonies, for whatever reason. Is Firth's performance here better than that which graced screens earlier this year in 'A Single Man'? Well, no. But more than a few have picked up Oscars for far less, often the year after a perceived snub. With no overwhelmingly clear favourite yet established for next year's Best Actor award, this is perhaps Firth's best chance to grab the glory. If he does, brace yourself for the inevitable stutter joke during his acceptance speech...

'The King's Speech' is rated '12A' by the BBFC and is due out on January 7th in the UK.

'The Next ThreeDays' review at Obsessed With Film...

I've just found that my review for the Paul Haggis directed thriller 'The Next Three Days' has gone up over at Obsessed With Film. It is an American remake of the French thriller 'Anything For Her' and holds up rather well against that film (in fact I liked it a little more). The film stars Russell Crowe and Elizabeth Banks and is out in the US tomorrow. It comes out in the UK early next year - January 7th in fact. I certainly liked it far more than the last Crowe vehicle I saw: the abysmal 'Robin Hood' released earlier this year.