I'm a serial list-maker. There is an obsessive compulsive part of my personality that enjoys sorting things into groups and thrives when it comes to forming arbitrary lists, especially when it comes to film. In the last few weeks I have given a lot of thought to my own end of year list, which is now veering towards being a "top 30" due to the fact that I have seen just over 130 new films so far this year. But what, you might ask, is the point?
Can one good film ever be definitively said to be "better" than another? How do you go about comparing works as different as 'Pinocchio' and 'Citizen Kane' and 'The Apartment' and 'Jaws'? What possible use is there in making these sorts of lists? Aren't these lists just cheap and easy disposable articles in an age of lazy journalism?
I understand - and even slightly agree with - those academics like David Thompson who routinely ask those questions, yet I am ultimately still drawn to these lists. For one, I find them fun to compile. There is a simple joy I get from taking an otherwise abstract concept like "taste" and making it something tangible or even quantifiable. A second reason why I enjoy these sorts of lists is that they are great starting off points for discussion. On an annual basis I find myself discussing the results of Sight and Sound magazine's end of year critics' poll with friends. A list like that can also encourage you to seek a film out that you might have overlooked. For instance, off the most recent S&S poll I haven't yet seen 'Carlos' - a French-made biopic about "Carlos the Jackal" - and its inclusion on the list will almost certainly result in my seeking the film out.
Perhaps that is the most compelling reason for the existence of these lists. They can perhaps inspire others to seek things out that they may never have even heard of, or may even have dismissed out of hand. I avoided 'In Bruges' (above) on account of its incredibly naff poster and it wasn't until I saw the film popping up in a few "best film" lists in 2008 that I tracked down a copy on DVD and subsequently discovered that I loved it.
Sometimes these rankings don't hold up over time. A look in an old notebook drew my attention to the fact that I once felt 'Garden State' was one of the best films ever made. I don't even like that film anymore. Likewise, my end of year list will doubtless contradict my earlier list, made in July, of "the best of 2010 so far". I'm sure if I return to my final 2010 poll in twenty years I'll have grown fonder of a few films and perhaps developed a dislike of others. All any personal list like this can do is provide a snapshot of a moment in time.
Accepting for the sake of argument that these lists are relevant and interesting (if only to me), I need to decide on a format for my 2010 "best of". Last year's list didn't include 'Ponyo' and 'Micmacs' even though I loved them and saw them at last year's CineCity Film Festival. The logic behind this was that they hadn't been officially released in the UK at that point. But making that judgement poses a few problems to the list-maker further down the line. For starters, both those films might have placed highly on last year's list, whilst they were fresh in my memory, whereas now they feel "old" to me. There is a reason the prestige pictures come out in the run up to awards season and not a year before the Oscars are nominated.
There is also another less fickle reason why I might have done better to include those films in last year's list. If I restrict myself only to films released in the UK in 2010, doesn't that mean I can't include films that are unlikely to get a UK release at all? In Venice I saw several good Italian films that won't receive any sort of release over here and I think I will include at least one of them in my final poll at the end of this month. And what about re-releases? Should I consider 'Rashomon' and 'Breathless' and 'Five Easy Pieces' too? Probably not, or this could get messy.
Considering all of this, I will draw my "best of 2010" list from every new film I have seen this year. I won't consider re-issues, but I will consider 'Micmacs' and 'Ponyo' from last year and I will also likely award places to films scheduled for UK release next year, such as 'Black Swan'. Expect to see the top 30 up on this blog as we get closer to the new year.
In 1996 a small group of French Trappist monks were abducted from their Algerian monastery by Islamic terrorists. The monks were later found beheaded, but it remains to this day a mystery who actually killed them. The killings were claimed by The Armed Islamic Group of Algeria, but many suspect (based on French secret service documents) that it was in fact the Algerian army that killed the monks in error. Such a controversial near-contemporary incident, touching on inter-faith conflict and Islamic terrorism, may seem like an obvious set-up for a movie of our current political moment and indeed this horrific episode has now been made into a French language film directed by Xavier Beauvois entitled 'Of Gods and Men'.
Yet rather than focus on what you could (quite crassly) call "the action", Beauvois film takes a slower, more introspective and intellectual approach. He chooses not to dissect the incident itself, and the controversy surrounding the fatal final moments (stopping short of showing them altogether), but instead details the weeks leading up to that event as the monks discuss whether to stay in the monastery or go back to France in the face of the escalating tension in the region. It is a film of thoughtful pauses, haunting Gregorian chants and long, earnest conversations about ethics. 'Of Gods and Men' is not a film that states an overt ideological position, but instead it is about the nature (and perhaps the practicality) of ideology itself.
In it similar questions are raised as were earlier this year in Claire Denis' post-colonial drama 'White Material'. In that film a white family decides to stay on their African farm in the face of Zimbawbwe-style ethnic tension, placing themselves in clear danger. Both films ask us to contemplate where the line exists between stubbornness and bravery, between principle and stupidity. But whereas Denis' film seemed to be critical of its subjects (who were either willfully ignorant of the severity of their situation or else completely mad) in 'Of Gods and Men' the monks are portrayed sympathetically and their ultimately fatal decision to stay put is explored in a calmer, more rationalised manner. Though whether that makes the monks actions any less foolhardy is left to you to decide.
The seven monks are played brilliantly by an ensemble of terrific French character actors and the dynamic between the men is nuanced and rich. Each man has his own reasons for staying put and you sense that not all of them are grounded by their religious belief as much as by a mixture of peer pressure and loyalty to their fellow monks. One monk reveals that he will stay because he has nobody else outside of the monastery, having given up his old life to adopt the religious lifestyle. Other men (like Michael Lonsdale's affable doctor Luc) seem too frail or ill to move on. At least at first, it is really only the de facto leader of the group Christian (Lambert Wilson) who seems to be resigning himself to the idea of martyrdom born from an uncompromising sense of moral conviction.
Christian ponders the morality of every decision he makes. He refuses the offer of armed guards for the monastery so as not to align himself with the "corrupt" Algerian government (a decision he comes to without consulting the others) and telegraphs his obvious reluctance to shake the hand of a guerrilla leader even if it will buy the group some temporary assurance of protection from harm. When told at gunpoint to give up all the monastery's supplies and medicine, he refuses. "You have no choice" he is told. He replies calmly with the film's key line: "Yes I do." To what extent do we have choice? Is Christian blinded by a self-righteous sense of faith that will doom his religious brothers needlessly? Or is his adherence to a strict moral code something which assures their eternal salvation? Those are some of the questions posed by 'Of Gods and Men' and there are probably many more. Your answers to them may depend on your feelings on religion and the concept of moral absolutism.
Any good film is a film of ideas, even if those ideas are transmitted through seemingly disposable entertainment. But rarely are films so consciously about ideas whilst remaining so unpretentious. Usually a film's "hero" is motivated by a desire for material wealth, love, revenge, power or survival. Christian and his brothers desire none of these things and as a result this is a rare film where the goal is to determine the worth of principle. The fact that it does this so compellingly for just over two hours is nothing short of astounding. Especially as there is nothing in the way of light relief or humour. Another of this year's outstanding French films, 'Lourdes', was similarly slow and thorough in its exploration of faith and morality, but did so with an element of satire that is wholly absent here. Yet 'Of Gods and Men' assuredly manages to command our attention whilst being unrelentingly po-faced.
'Of Gods and Men' lives up to its billing as one of the year's strongest films, with its sombre, contemplative mood as captivating as it is a profoundly moving experience, reaching a creshendo as the monks' tearfully listen to Tchaikovsky's "Swan Lake" on the eve of their final trudge in the snow. As they disappear from view and into the mist, we are aware of their fate and you suspect that they are too. In a film that doesn't shy away from showing violence, in one startling and visceral instance, it is even more commendable that Xavier Beauvois chooses to leave the ultimate and most obvious question of "what happens next?" up to historians. In 'Of Gods and Men', what we think about what happens is more endlessly facinating than the event itself.
'Of Gods and Men' is rated '15' by the BBFC and was released in the UK on December 3rd.
There is something Spielbergian about Finnish horror-comedy 'Rare Exports'. The fact that the action surrounds a mountain brings to mind 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind', whilst the film's child protagonist Pietari (Onni Tommila) is reminiscent of the child from... well just about every family movie the director has ever made. However, the films that it most resembles from the Spielberg stable are not those he directed, but those anarchic and violent family films he produced in the mid-80s: 'The Goonies' and 'Gremlins'.
As with 'Gremlins', in the UK 'Rare Exports' has been hit with a '15' certificate. Which is a shame because, although there is a little swearing (though not as much as the apparently kiddy-friendly 'The King's Speech' which got a '12A'), some violence and some nudity, 'Rare Exports' is essentially a children's story. It is a coming of age tale which sees Pietari making the gradual change from a scared boy to a young man. It has a dark aesthetic and a macabre sense of humour, but nothing that would be out of place in the world of those Spielberg films mentioned. Like the title suggests, it is also a rare phenomenon: a good Christmas movie.
'Rare Exports' is the first feature film by Jalmari Helander, who has expanded on an idea which he first gave life to in a couple of short films: 'Rare Exports Inc.' (2003) and 'Rare Exports: The Official Safety Instructions' (2005). The film is a sort of prequel to those shorts, which took a comical look at how hunters in Lapland track down and capture wild and dangerous Father Christmases in order to train them for safe export around the world. Many of the original cast return for the feature, which shows how they originally discover the homicidal, rampaging Santas after they are unearthed from an icy tomb deep within the Korvatunturi mountains by a team of American archaeologists.
As with the short films, Santa Claus murders whoever he suspects is naughty. He also, in a twisted re-imagining of the folklore, eats little children - a fact which young Pietari learns from some old books and which terrifies him into taking precautions, including fashioning his distinctive suit of padded armour. When the boys and girls of the village go missing, it is up to the boy and his father, a reindeer hunter, to rescue them. There is a father-son subplot at work here, but unlike that in 'Tron: Legacy', it feels like more than a functionary narrative device. The relationship between Pietari and his father (Rauno played by Jorma Tommila) is in many ways the film's real focal point, with two thirds of 'Rare Exports' focusing on the way they interact with one another and featuring very little action. What action there is takes place in the final twenty minutes and is brilliantly exciting and funny.
'Rare Exports' has been likened to the early work of Tim Burton and it isn't difficult to see why with the film feeling like a dark, contemporary fable in a similar vein to 'Edward Scissorhands'. In the illustrations of ancient Santas devouring children, it is also possible to detect traces of Guillermo del Toro's 'Pan's Labyrinth'. Yet Helander's preference for humour which combines the sinister and the silly is more like something out of a Roald Dahl book. In fact the dishevelled Santas themselves, rake thin and with unkempt beards, look like Quentin Blake illustrations come to life.
The concept of these wild 90 year-old men running around the woods ripping people to shreds is the stuff of black comedy in itself but Helander adds to this some brilliantly funny ideas which help to elevate 'Rare Exports' above being another exploitative horror-comedy: Santas can be distracted by feeding them freshly baked ginger bread cookies; among the things they consider naughty (as well as the likes of smoking, drinking and swearing) is people who haven't washed behind their ears; and in order to ward off Santa, Pietari sellotapes and then staples shut the penultimate door on his advent calender. There are loads of other great ideas which I won't spoil here and also some very funny lines of faux action movie dialogue.
'Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale' is practically begging to become a cult seasonal favourite. If it were Spielberg produced and directed by Joe Dante then it would probably have already found that audience - one that might, sadly, be excluded by the film's being in the Finnish language (notoriously one of Europe's least widely spoken and least accessible tongues). It will also be limited by the fact that some of its content (which includes matter of fact nudity as a Santa takes a shower) will prevent children from being able to see it in more conservative countries like the UK, which is a pity.
It's admittedly not a film for very young children, but it certainly has more appeal for the under-15 crowd than 'The King's Speech' and is arguably less violent than a lot of recent "tweenage" blockbusters which boast lower age ratings. And whilst the likes of Michael Bay's 'Transformers' series objectify women and indulge in horrible racial stereotyping for a '12A' audience, 'Rare Exports' is actually a pretty savoury story about a young Finnish boy growing up, abandoning his tattered teddy bear and proving that he has more courage than his bullying peers. What's wrong with that? Don't bother to ask the increasingly inconsistant likes of the BBFC.
'Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale' is out now in the UK and playing at the Duke of Yoir's Picturehouse in Brighton. It is rated '15' by the BBFC.
It seems that 2010 is the year when Hollywood decided all 1980s entertainment properties needed to be re-tooled for the modern age. We've already had 'The A-Team', 'Clash of the Titans', 'Predators' and 'Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps'. We also got Sylvester Stallone's nostalgia reliant, berk-fest 'The Expendables'. Now it seems it's Disney's turn with 'Tron: Legacy', a sequel to the 1982 movie 'Tron' which explored, using then pioneering computer effects, what happens when you zap Jeff Bridges into an arcade game.
Whilst the original now has a certain campy charm, with its fluorescent world of all-in-one jumpsuits, it certainly isn't "cool" in a conventional sense (if you're in doubt, see YouTube phenomenon "Tron Guy"). By comparison, this sequel has re-imagined "The Grid" (the world inside the computer) with the aesthetic of an especially chic, modern car ad. Like the swanky flat of a Soho trendy, it's a world characterised by clean, minimalist designs and set to a pulsing Daft Punk soundtrack. Watching 'Tron: Legacy' is like spending two hours in an exclusive night club, only here your headache comes as a result of RealD 3D glasses and not as a result of too many blue After Shocks (though if 'Tron: Legacy' were a drink, you suspect that would be it).
Fittingly for a sequel that's 28 years late, 'Tron: Legacy' picks up some years after where the original left off. Jeff Bridges' game designer and arcade owner Kevin Flynn ended that film as head of ENCOM, the shady company that had stolen his computer programs. Apparently between the two movies Flynn fathered a son, this film's protagonist Sam Flynn (Garrett Hedlund), and promptly disappeared leaving Flynn the younger desperately in need of a father - a role filled by Alan Bradley, his business partner and designer of "Tron" (an independent program and hero of The Grid).
Bradley is again played by Bruce Boxleitner who, with his distinguished grey hair and glasses, resembles a sort of budget Richard Gere. 'Tron: Legacy' begins with an aimless Sam Flynn pulling a juvenile prank on the board of ENCOM (now re-cast as a sinister analogue of Microsoft) after which he is visited by Bradley who, after giving a half-hearted ticking off, tells Sam that he has received a mysterious message on his pager, apparently from Sam's father. After this revelation, Sam is persuaded to visit his father's old arcade, where he finds a hidden room which teleports him onto The Grid via a laser beam.
Once there Sam is promptly undressed and more appropriately attired by what look like a gang of automated perfume counter saleswomen. (Wearing vaguely exploitative sci-fi clothing and ridiculous high-heels, the women are literally objectified as they walk out of sockets in the walls to cater to Sam's needs.) He doesn't know it, but he has been prepared for "games": iconic events directly lifted from the original film and then improved infinitely by current computer effects (as well as this new film's sexed-up styling).
The discus throwing duels now take place in a glass box, suspended in the air and ever diminishing in size as the flying discs smash it to bits. The computer world's liberal grasp of physics means that the duels are enhanced further as fighters are able to run around the walls and across the ceiling as they smash things up. The discs themselves are now not only thrown but also used in hand-to-hand combat and the defeated combatant no longer turns into a cosy beam of yellow light but crumbles into thousands of tiny pixels, in the film's most eye-catching effect. Likewise the "Light Cycles" of the original have been given the Tron 2.0 treatment, now operating in a multi-tiered, translucent arena, with riders now combining the ultra-sleek future bikes with their discus. The result of these changes is set pieces that easily surpass anything seen in the original. Though sadly they are few in number.
Although the original film was considered something of a flop back in its day, Disney have clearly pitched this film to a young audience seeing this sequel as a fully-fledged franchise re-boot with the ambitious cross-promotional platform for the movie including a video game, an animated series and, of course, the Daft Punk composed soundtrack album. But whilst "the kids" will want to see Sam to smash people into little blue bits with his discus and ride around in a cool, neon motorbike, what they will actually see is a few imaginative and high-octane action sequences buried amongst drawn-out scenes of plot exposition, flashbacks and parent-child angst as Sam catches up with his aged father.
Kevin Flynn, it transpires, has been trapped within the program since his sudden disappearance all those years ago and the role is reprised by Jeff Bridges. There is, naturally, a romantic sub-plot for young Sam which springs from nowhere in particular, as Quorra (Olivia Wilde) emerges as our hero's capable companion. Though whilst Wilde is fun to watch and delivers her lines with a disarming playfulness, in truth she is given little to do. Also underused is Jeff Bridges himself, with Kevin Flynn's Grid-bending powers (as seen in the first film) used far too sparingly.
Bridges appears as two characters in 'Tron: Legacy'. He is of course Flynn the elder, who has become more like "The Dude" of 'The Big Lebowski' since we last saw him (he now ends most sentences with the word "man" and at one point exclaims "radical!"). But he is also CLU - a program version of himself that he created to oversee The Grid in his absence and the film's villain. CLU is a CG motion captured version of Bridges, meant to closely resemble his appearance in the original film. It is a bold move to use CGI to animate a human character in a live action film, where he must appear alongside actual people, and the film almost pulls it off. Yet you can't help feeling that he's rolled into town on the Polar Express and doesn't belong. There is something not quite right about it. It doesn't help that the first time we see this effect, it is used to portray the real, younger Kevin Flynn interacting with his son outside of the computer world. Though it is unquestionably state of the art for now and the idea itself - of the young and old Bridges facing off onscreen together - is compelling enough for Disney to have taken the gamble. I'll say this for it: the more you see the effect the less weird it seems until by the end of the film you've accepted the whole thing.
The story itself is logical for this follow-up and serviceable, if nothing new, but the dialogue is below average. It's one of those scripts that consists only of clichés and exposition. "What is it like... the sun?" asks Quorra at one stage. "It's warm, it's radiant..." replies Sam before looking her deep in the eyes and adding "... it's beautiful." "Tron! What have you become!?" shouts Kevin Flynn during one encounter with his old cyber-buddy, now in the services of CLU. This poor writing could be forgiven. I didn't go into 'Tron: Legacy' expecting an Aaron Sorkin screenplay, after all. But 'Tron: Legacy', the maiden effort of director Joseph Kosinski (until now best known for video game commercials), forgets to be escapist fun for much of its length and bad dialogue is left to provide most the laughs.
You certainly won't get laughs from the one sequence in the film intended to be purely comic, which falls embarrassingly flat as Michael Sheen (no stranger to camping it up) makes an appearance as an effete nightclub owner in one horrible car crash of a scene. He plays air guitar with his cane, dances about and shouts ridiculous things throughout one fight, seemingly on a one-man quest to ruin the entire film. I hope it was worth it Sheen (though I guess it's at least a step up from 'Underworld: Rise of the Lycans' and 'Twilight: New Moon'). Thankfully, Jeff Bridges does manage to come out of things with his credibility in tact. Especially when he sees his son for the first time in years, as he delivers his lines with almost tear-inducing sincerity above and beyond the writing.
'Tron: Legacy' has the distinction of being the first film since 'Avatar' to use that film's high-end 3D cameras - with every other major 3D release of 2010 subject to a controversial post-production conversion process. As a result the 3D is better than that seen in the likes of Disney's own 'Alice in Wonderland' and seems to suffer less from motion blur than any other live action 3D film I've seen. Perhaps this also has something to do with the less busy visual design of the Tron world, which may have been designed as much with 3D in mind as anything else.
Though for all the polish, as with every other 3D movie I've ever seen, I forgot it was in 3D after twenty minutes of watching and its most positive attribute was that it was subtle and unobtrusive in its use of the extra dimension. All of those words of faint praise lead to the obvious question: "what was the point of it all then?" (aside from the bump in ticket prices and security against piracy).
Unlike some of those other denizens of 1980s popular culture recently thrust into renewed relevance, 'Tron: Legacy' is a sequel nobody asked for, to a film that I suspect nobody below the age of twenty-five even remembers. With a week to go before its release I find it hard to imagine that it can be anything like the hit that Disney needs it to be in order to consider it a success. Who exactly is it for? It's too slow (and possibly too complicated) for young children, whilst it's a little too juvenile for adults. It looks and sounds excellent and it would not be any kind of scandal if it picked up a few technical awards in the new year. Plus there are two or three genuinely awe-inspiring set pieces and some really imaginative touches here and there.
But the central problem is that the world of Tron, which must have seemed so exotic to those who went along to the cinema in 1982 when computers were young and promised a world of seemingly infinite possibility, now seems to raise too many questions (with "why are these programs people?" the first among them). It is even a sequel that beats its original, yet baring in mind the limitations of the original 'Tron' that is no exceptional boast. Yet in spite of 'Tron: Legacy' being in many ways so deficient, I'll be sad if it tanks at the box-office. Disney have taken a massive gamble and, in Hollywood especially, that sort of daring should be rewarded. Also, Light Cycles are pretty cool.
'Tron: Legacy' is out on December 17th and is rated 'PG' by the BBFC.
The last decade hasn't been especially kind to the Disney animation fan. The annual triumphs of the folks at PIXAR aside, the in-house output of Walt Disney Animation Studios has been lacklustre as the once dominant studio have struggled to remain relevant in the 'Toy Story' inspired age of computer animation. Prior to this year, the 2002 film 'Lilo & Stitch' was probably their last genuinely good feature. Then, after the commercial disasters of 'Treasure Planet' and 'Home on the Range', Disney began making their own forgettable computer animations: 'Chicken Little', 'Meet the Robinsons' and 'Bolt'. Things seemed bleak until, earlier this year, Disney restored a lot of faith with 'The Princess and the Frog' - a return to the type of hand-drawn animated musical which defined the 90s renaissance - which did well with critics and at the box office. Given this success, it seemed a shame that their next film 'Tangled', an adaptation of the Rapunzel Grimm fairy tale and the studios 50th feature, would be yet another computer animation... and in 3D.
But as with buses, you wait for ages only for two to show up at once. 'Tangled' is brilliant, possibly better even than 'The Princess and the Frog' and certainly one the best Disney animations of the last ten years. Unlike the studio's other computer animations, which lacked any real character and seemed to bear little relation to the Disney style of old, 'Tangled' feels exactly like a 1990s classic in the mold of 'Beauty and the Beast' or 'The Hunchback of Notre Damme': in terms of the film's design, the quality of the animation, the timeless appeal of the source story and with the songs composed by Alan Menkin. Like all classic Disney the pacing is exactly right too with action, gags, musical numbers and romantic sequences all balanced well, leaving the whole thing feeling like an example of perfect story telling economy. Uncle Walt himself would approve.
This telling of the Rapunzel story has it that the titular girl's long, blonde locks possess magical healing properties. It is for this reason that she is stolen from her parents (here a king and queen) as a baby and spirited away to an isolated tower by a vain old hag named Gothel, who wishes to use Rapunzel's hair to keep herself forever youthful. Running parallel to this story is that of Flynn Rider, a scoundrel who has stolen a valuable crown from the palace in his latest daring heist. On the run from the guards - and from a couple of gangmates whom he betrayed - Flynn stumbles upon the tower and is soon a bewildered Rapunzel's prisoner. Rapunzel, who has been told that the outside world is far too dangerous for her, hides Flynn's valuable prize and forces him to escort her safely out of her tower so she can see the world outside. Gothel comes back to find she has gone and pursues, whilst Flynn continues to evade the law.
If I was surprised to find a computer animated in-house Disney film of this high quality, then I was even more surprised to find that it was in many ways technically the most advanced computer animation I've yet seen - dare I say it, even surpassing PIXAR. The lighting, water and fabric effects are staggeringly well done in 'Tangled' as is, perhaps unsurprisingly, hair. Though the charm of character animation is what really sets this film apart, so in keeping is it with the studio's traditions: a transformative melding of the old with the new. Generally human people look best in animated films if they are heavily stylised, whilst realistic people, such as those seen in the ugly rotoscope animations of Robert Zemeckis ('The Polar Express', 'Beowulf' and 'A Christmas Carol'), suffer from the uncanny valley effect and look unsettling and unappealing.
PIXAR have had their own trouble with this in the past: when we see people in the original 'Toy Story', they are stiff looking and unconvincing. It took almost ten years before they felt confident to make their first feature length film about recognisably human characters, 'The Incredibles' in 2004, and then they were highly stylised caricatures. Tellingly for 'Wall-E' PIXAR chose not to animate the film's recognisably "human" character at all, and instead used a live-action actor, only using computer animation to bring to life the devolved, more cartoonish, future humans. Similarly, for 'Tangled' the approach has been to create cartoon characters rather than humans, but even better than that: unlike those present in 'Meet the Robinsons' (who could sit comfortably in a Nickelodeon TV series) these are recognisably Disney creations. These characters go well with the bright and lush world in which they are placed, with its blue skies and green grass and the design of the whole picture manages to create a vibrant fantasy kingdom that feels as though it has burst from the pages of a Grimm fairy tale, very Disney whilst definitely retaining something Gothic at its core.
Rapunzel herself (voiced by a disarming Mandy Moore) is wonderful to watch, the picture of girlish "cuteness", with her disproportionate eyes in her huge head. She is an incredibly expressive and entirely likable creation, and one of the most fun Disney princess characters. She is sharp, funny and, as is typical of the modern heroine, extremely feisty. Her "prince" is equally good to watch. Voiced by Zachary Levi, Flynn Rider narrates the tale and is our post-modern anti-hero. He refuses to sing and dance and isn't taken in by all the warmth and sentimentality. If Rapunzel is a less helpless version of Belle or Ariel, then Flynn is Aladdin combined with the more recent Prince Naveen. He is quick-witted and agile, stealing to survive (and for sport), but he is also extremely narcissistic. With Naveen in 'The Princess and the Frog' and Flynn in 'Tangled', Disney have successfully rejuvenated the once dull "prince" character, so long considered a thankless task among animators.
The obligatory, toyetic animal sidekick characters - a violent, yet cowardly chameleon and a determined and moralistic white horse - are likewise superbly well animated. Particularly the horse, who is terrifically funny with his proud stride and his vendetta against Flynn, whom he hunts prodigiously. 'Tangled' allows itself some truly silly moments no longer really seen in animation as things have become more sophisticated and less exaggerated. In one scene Flynn has a sword fight with the horse, turning to Rapunzel and saying proudly, "You should know that this is the strangest thing I've ever done!" Whilst another very funny sequence sees a group of murderous ruffians burst into a brilliant song called "I've Got a Dream", in which they all state that they'd rather become interior decorators or concert pianists than tough fighters. It is a song that recalls Howard Ashman's lyrics for "Gaston" in 'Beauty and the Beast' as much as the animated sequence channels Monty Python and Mel Brooks.
Then there is the evil Gothel, who Rapunzel believes to be her mother for the majority of the film which leads to an interesting dynamic between them - one that seems to be of very genuine love between the hero and villain. Gothel is one of the most properly horrifying Disney villains. After all, she abducts a child whom she keeps locked in a tower for eighteen years. Also the fact that her power is derived from years of manipulation and brainwashing is far scarier a concept than magic or violence.
'Tangled' shares one of its co-directors, Byron Howard, with Disney's last computer animated, 3D film 'Bolt' and, like 'Bolt', the use of 3D in 'Tangled' is restrained and tasteful rather than eye-popping. With the exception of some floating lanterns, things are rarely made to fly out of the screen at you and instead the extra dimension is employed to allow depth. As with 'Bolt' 3D is also occasionally used to make self-referential jokes (it is harder for a chameleon to hide in a 3D cartoon than a 2D one after all) but this is still not done so overtly as to be distracting. Does this film need to be in 3D? Of course not. Nothing needs to be in 3D - or at least nothing worth watching. But the 3D does add depth and, for the moment at least, is still a fun gimmick when used with animated films (live action 3D tends to give me a headache and the motion blur is awful during action).
For years I've been a hand-drawn snob who felt that by going over to computer animation Disney had lost their way - along with all of their charm. 'Tangled' has won me over wholeheartedly, putting a recognisably Disney style into computer animation for the first time. If they keep this up, the studios identity crisis might finally be over and the problem of differentiating Walt Disney Animation Studios from their more lauded cousins PIXAR might finally be solved. I'm still glad to see that Disney have hand drawn projects in the works, as next April sees the release of the beautiful looking 'Winnie the Pooh', for instance. But now I don't think the studio's future depends on taking that old fashioned route. In fact alternating between computer animation and hand-drawn (hopefully as material warrants) might keep both art forms from out staying their welcome a second time on Disney's watch.
'Tangled' is released in the UK on January 28th 2011 and has been rated 'PG' by the BBFC.
Richard Ayoade is a very funny man. Once president of the Cambridge University Footlights (a role previously held by such luminaries as Peter Cook, Eric Idle, David Mitchell and (oddly) film critic Peter Bradshaw), Ayoade has established himself as a leading figure of British television comedy. He is best known for his role as Maurice Moss in Graham Linehan's once-good-now-terrible 'The IT Crowd', but has also appeared in the likes of 'The Mighty Boosh', 'Nathan Barley' and 'Time Trumpet'. Added to that, he co-wrote and starred in 80s sci-fi pastiche 'Garth Marenghi's Darkplace' and spoof chat show 'Man to Man with Dean Learner' - both as the same character. To my mind he is so gifted a comic performer that he even lit up the execrable British comedy film 'Bunny and the Bull' last year, with an all-too-brief cameo role (the film's sole highlight). Now, following a stint directing music videos for the like of the Arctic Monkeys, he has gone behind the camera to direct his debut feature film 'Submarine', which received its premiere in Toronto in September and closed Brighton's Cinecity Film Festival on Sunday evening.
For his maiden feature film the comic actor has chosen to adapt Joe Dunthorne's 2008 novel 'Submarine', which follows Welsh teenager Oliver Tate as he tries to lose his virginity (before it becomes legal) and prevent his parents from separating. Oliver is coldly analytical about his school classmates and (what he sees as) his parents failing relationship, creepily observing everything and ultimately understanding nothing. His delusions of grandeur and social awkwardness are depicted with unsettling brilliance by the young Craig Roberts. Equally compelling are a restrained Sally Hawkins as his mother and a withdrawn and quite sad Noah Taylor as his father. Another young actor, Yasmin Paige, portrays Oliver's love interest - the fickle and malevolent Jordana. Paige is, on this evidence, a watchable screen presence with bags of charisma. Also cast in a small role is Warp Films regular Paddy Considine, as a spiritual guru who has some of the film's funniest lines.
As you'd expect from a film made by Richard Ayoade, 'Submarine' is a comedy. But it is quite a dry comedy which comes more from the language and the actors reading of the dialogue than from overtly comic moments. In fact Ayoade is unafraid to go fairly long stretches without any obvious "gags" at all. Oliver's "ninja" next door neighbour Graham (Considine's guru character) is as broad as the film gets, aside from the sexual ('Inbetweeners-'esque) crudity of Oliver's school friends, but even then the comedy is never overplayed and the film skillfully avoids the all-out ridiculous. Some of the humour is pretty macabre too. For instance, one scene sees Oliver tell us, via narration, that he has read that pets are important for child development in that they prepare children to accept death. With Jordana's mother suffering from cancer, Oliver then resolves (with the best intentions) to kill her dog so as to soften the blow of her mother's possible demise. It is a relief to see, given his exagerated comic personae, that Ayoade can slip into this whole other gear and make what is a subtle, complex and overall human film.
Rarely in a debut feature do you find a director so in command of the form, as you sense that everything in 'Submarine' has been carefully played out in its director's head and translated exactly that way onto the screen. In the same way that the novel is self-consciously a novel (with Oliver referencing himself as being "the protagonist") Ayoade's film revels in the fact that it is a film, as Oliver talks about the camera techniques the film must implement if it is to tell his story. His megalomania draws obvious parallels with Jason Schwartzman's Max Fischer from the Wes Anderson film 'Rushmore' and other clear Anderson parallels are visible in terms of the films clean and colourful intertitles as well as in Ayoade's use of zooms and tracking shots. Also present is the same love of precision and detail, although these visual motifs and affectations probably owe more to the two filmmaker's shared love of the French New Wave than anything else. Oddly though, the film 'Submarine' most reminded me of was Kubrick's 'A Clockwork Orange' with Oliver's narration recounting his darker thoughts and actions with the same cheerful amorality of Malcolm McDowell's Alex.
'Submarine' is as sweet and at times unsettling as it is beautifully made and wonderfully acted. It is funny - but not too funny - and also melancholic and above all truthful, in spite of that fact that it takes place in a reality heightened by its narrator's ego. When Noah Taylor (a Hove local) introduced the film to the Cinecity crowd at the weekend, he heralded Richard Ayoade as an important British filmmaker for the future. Before the film rolled that might have just sounded like polite hyperbole. After it finished, to a rapturous ovation, I was left in little doubt that he was right.
Now Richard Ayoade joins fellow British comedians (and sometime collaborators) Armando Iannucci and Chris Morris in making a terrific debut film, I am left to wonder: with the bar raised impossibly high, what can we expect from their next efforts? I am certainly excited to find out.
'Submarine' is released in the UK in March next year and is not yet rated by the BBFC. No trailer is currently available.
Last week much of the UK, including here in Brighton, was covered in snow. Schools were closed, buses were cancelled and middle class suburban homes everywhere were left without their weekly Ocado delivery. But how did it affect the British film exhibition business? I asked a few people in the know at different East Sussex based cinemas to see exactly what they made of the bad weather.
Apparently it isn't always bad news according to occasional Splendor Cinema podcast guest James Tully. James is the marketing manager of Brighton's biggest cinema - an Odeon near the town centre - and he suggested that the snow can in fact have a positive effect on business for the chain depending on the target audience: "If the weather is bad, then the schools are closed so if you are one of the few businesses still open then there is a good opportunity to make money. We see a rise in family business during the day as parents have nothing to do with their kids. But films for a mature audience suffer as older people will not want to risk going out onto snow & ice just to see a film."
Likewise, podcast co-host Jon Barrenechea, manager of Brighton's Duke of York's Picturehouse, says that his cinema can also benefit from the snow. But whereas the multiplex takes advantage of kids off school eager to watch 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One', the Duke's unique atmosphere gives it an advantage in attracting older crowds: "During the Christmas holidays the whole place just feels like a cosy front room in an eccentric’s house. Mulled wine, fairy lights, the Edwardian architecture, it’s the perfect setting for when it snows, so we tend to get busy in times like this, especially recently as people haven’t been able to drive anywhere, they’ve been walking down to the cinema."
The Duke of York's not only has the advantage of a large, loyal and local customer base. It is also based just on the edge of town and sat on two main roads - which are generally usable even in snowy weather, as the fire station next door needs constant access - whilst the Odeon, being in the centre of town, is also accessible to a lot of people. It is a different story for a cinema based in a more remote area, like the Uckfield Picture House. Manager and owner Kevin Markwick told me, "snow has a devastating effect on our business, particularly in a semi rural area like this. People simply can’t get here on country roads. For some reason no one seems to want to walk here either. ['Harry Potter'] business has dropped by 65% since the snow hit on Tuesday [November 30th]." The Odeon's James echos Kevin's concerns saying, "I think it's a tough time for independent cinemas who are programmed weeks in advance, as if their big hit film falls in that week [of bad weather] then their profits fall through the floor."
Time of day is another factor in people's decision to come out to the movies in blizzard conditions too. Whilst day time shows can receive a boost in attendance, James noticed that evening business "declines as guests do not know what to expect by the time their film has finished. If for example you are watching an 8pm 'Harry Potter' that finishes at 11pm, you could emerge to find another foot of snow has fallen, transport cancelled etc." Jon also sees a drop for certain shows. Notably the National Theatre and MET Opera screenings, which are broadcast live via satellite and regularly sell out: "The only times it really affects us is when we have special events like the Operas when people are driving in from out of town."
Another concern is for smaller films with niche appeal. Again James Tully provided his view of what can happen to such films at this time of year: "it's a tough time if you are a distributor of a small film as the film will not get held-over if it doesn't perform well. I hope that 'Monsters' manages to find an audience... It would be a shame after such an excellent marketing campaign to see the film fail at the last hurdle." Customers are unaware of how film distribution works, which creates a problem for the smaller films says James, "People also assume that a film will be playing indefinitely and that if it snows, and they can't go out, then they will see it next week. Unfortunately the reality is that the film probably wont last another week."
All pictures taken by my girlfriend and I whilst snowed-in in Patcham last week.
Let me get one thing out of the way at the beginning of this review. Yes, it is indeed impressive that young British director Gareth Edwards has made his debut film, the sci-fi, road movie 'Monsters', for reportedly less than half a million dollars. More impressive still is that he not only wrote and directed the film, but acted as his own cinematographer and even did all the films digital effects at home on his computer, apparently using relatively affordable software. This is indeed laudable, and points towards a future where big, special effects blockbusters may be made by indie filmmakers just as well as by big studios. And what a future that could be. Imaginative filmmakers with epic visions who constantly find themselves restricted by the commercial interests of the studios (such as Alex Cox and Terry Gilliam) might be able to make the kind of ambitious films they always wanted to make.
Gareth Edwards is not alone in thinking big with limited resources. Uruguayan amateur Fede Alvarez made headlines last year by earning himself a big Hollywood contract after achieving success on YouTube with his four minute short film called 'Ataque de Panico'. That film also had a big sci-fi concept which would usually cost more than that short's stated $300 budget, as it depicted giant robots attacking Uruguay's capital city of Montevideo. Earlier in 2009, Canadian brothers Ian and David Purchase achieved a huge internet following with their short film adaptation of the Half-Life 2 video game, 'Half-Life: Escape from City 17', which also boasted impressive effects and a sense of scale on a meagre budget. Video games have inspired countless others too - including polished fan film versions of Pokemon and Street Fighter - but the highest profile one saw 'Fame' remake helmer Kevin Tancharoen shooting his own D.I.Y Mortal Kombat short in an effort to pitch a full movie to studios. No doubt the the box office success of 'Monsters' will inspire a few more on a feature length scale and this can only be a good thing.
However, forget for a second the film's low-budget and other indie credentials (it stars Scoot McNairy of 'In Search of a Midnight Kiss' fame alongside a supporting cast of non-actors) and what you have in 'Monsters' is a fairly unfulfilling film which didn't satisfy me as a creature feature nor as a relationship drama.
The plot is as follows: a photojournalist (Andrew played by McNairy) is asked by his boss to escort his daughter (Samantha played by Whitney Able) from Mexico back to her home in the United States. After missing the last boat back, the pair decide to embark on the journey by land. This would sound like a simple enough trip. Except this story is set in the near future, where the land between the newly drawn borders of Mexico and the USA is the "infected zone" - home to extraterrestrial creatures accidentally brought down to Earth by a malfunctioning NASA probe. Worse still, the infected zone is under constant bombardment by the US Air Force, who carpet bomb the whole area to keep the aliens at bay. As you'd expect with such a modest budget, the aliens are very rarely seen and instead the film is more focused on the dynamic between Samantha and Andrew.
This would be fine if either of them were interesting or if they ever had anything interesting to say. 'Monsters' is suffocated by constant exposition with people saying things like "so let me get this straight: we have 48 hours to get to the coast" and when we aren't having things we have just seen and heard simplified for us we are forced to spend our time in the company of a couple of morons. Andrew has, he tells us, seen the corpses of the aliens before on several occasions. The creatures are also on the television news or caricatured by informative children's cartoons whenever we see a television. The duo are aware they are heading through the infected zone, as a great many sign posts tell them so. They see the destruction of areas affected by the so-called monsters. Yet when confronted by them they are forever shouting (and I mean shouting) "what the hell is that thing", over and over and over again.
The shouting doesn't stop even when their armed guards - who by the way are asked several times "why have you guys got guns?" (gee, I wonder why) - tell them to be quiet during one attack sequence. The pair just can't shut up, forever yelping "why are you putting your gas masks on?" (even though that very question was the subject of a public service broadcast aimed at children in a previous scene). When they pass through a destroyed town they ask aloud "all these people's homes. But where are all the people?" They are infuriating human beings who are just begging to be made victims of intergalactic assault. What's more, Andrew is totally inept at his job. When he isn't taking cliché, sub-Banksy photos of children wearing gas masks or playing with barbed wire, he is going on a cathartic journey to grow a conscience which ultimately sees him cover up a dead child's body rather than take a picture for his employers. It is supposed to be a sign that he has, in leaving supposed civilization, rediscovered what it means to be human. By contrast the human world - which, full of greed and evil, pays for pictures of dead children - has become alien. To me it just shows that the film doesn't understand the role such photojournalism has played in turning public opinion against violent wars since Vietnam. Certainly, there is a moral ambiguity to it, but it isn't a simple case of "right and wrong". But 'Monsters' isn't a nuanced film and Edwards it seems would rather resort to trite, sentimental corn than face the more complex realities of the human condition.
This heavy-handed moralising about the modern world continues into the films 'Avatar'-like eco message and in its meaningless symbolism as the American troops at the beginning are shown attacking an alien at a petrol station. To what end? I couldn't tell you. Accept that it's making some loose connection between the American's attack on the creatures and the war in Iraq. Edgy stuff that should take the heat off Julian Assange once Washington finds out. The film also suggests that Mexican officials are corrupt, leading me to wonder whether a deleted scene would have revealed the toiletry habits of bears.
I can't help but feel that the film's shallow "humans are bad" rhetoric would be dismissed if this were larger film, perhaps directed by James Cameron. It's a message that makes no sense either. Whilst in the infected wilderness they encounter the aforementioned dead child. They also see the eviscerated bodies of people they were travelling with. What is so wonderful about the aliens is anyone's guess. Just that they're not human. Because we humans are so terribly, terribly bad, you see. It is a po-faced film which is smugly satisfied by its seriousness. Edwards knows that everyone will line up to gush "it's a monster film that isn't about the monsters!" - as if that was what we'd all been waiting for.
'Monsters' didn't thrill me and it certainly didn't move me either. Yet I must return to the first point of this review and put the thing back in its context as a film that cost a first-time director less than $500,000 to make. With that in mind it is an excellently well designed film. If you didn't know it was made on the cheap, you probably wouldn't be able to tell from what is an extremely handsomely made film. Much like that of last year's 'District 9', the world Edwards creates is an interesting one and you are drawn to wonder at the story around the story. You scan the world for details which will give you more information about this time and place, with these strange circumstances told to you in a matter of fact way and made to seem highly plausible. It is also a credit to Edwards that he stages his scenes of tension well, even if they are all ripped straight out of the Spielberg playbook (the car attack scene is lifted from 'Jurassic Park', whilst the encounter with a curious alien in the gas station is reminiscent of a similar sequence in 'War of the Worlds') - perhaps appropriate given that Spielberg's first short movies required similar ingenuity in terms of homemade special effects.
As a film, I wasn't sold on 'Monsters'. But as part of a growing and exciting trend it thrills me absolutely. I can only imagine what we'll see in the future if anyone with an idea and the talent can feasibly make whatever film they want to. Indie filmmakers have long between able to make gritty, social realism films and small scale dramas. But maybe now science fiction and fantasy are not out of reach. I don't want to oversell it: Gareth Edwards may have only spent $500,000 making this film, but he still had half a million dollars at his disposal (not to mention the backing of Vertigo Films). But who knows? Maybe the next 'Star Wars' or 'Lawrence of Arabia' will be made in a bedroom rather than a movie studio.
'Monsters' is rated '12A' by the BBFC and is out now in the UK. It is playing this week at Brighton's Duke of York's Picturehouse cinema.
It has taken a long time, but in the UK we seem to be catching up with the likes of Japan and France when it comes to taking animated films seriously. For years animated films were almost always children's films and were routinely dismissed by critics and cinephiles. Eyebrows were raised when, in 1991, Disney's 'Beauty and the Beast' was (quite deservedly) nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards. Flash forward to 2010 and Disney's 'Up' was nominated for the same honour without the same murmurings of dissent. (In fact that film made many critics end of year "best film" lists.) Whilst those two Disney films are most certainly aimed at children (albeit with adult themes), it is no longer impossible to find animated films aimed at older audiences in UK cinemas, even if it isn't yet widespread. Earlier this year 'The Illusionist', a slow and poignant (and mostly silent) French film, did fairly well here playing mostly to adults. And now 'Chico & Rita', a sexually explicit, 15-rated Spanish animation, has been released in the UK to general acclaim.
By "sexually explicit" I really only mean that 'Chico & Rita' has a couple of sex scenes and some female nudity, deemed "strong sex" by the BBFC. Presumably this was because the next certificate down is a '12A' (the same rating as the latest 'Harry Potter' film) and the body wanted to make it clear that this is not intended as a film for children. This must be the rationale as compared to live action films the scenes of love-making in 'Chico & Rita' are fairly tame. But what makes this Spanish animation a movie for adults is not the tasteful sexual content, but rather the fact that there is really nothing here for children. There is no comedy relief and, save for one brief chase sequence, there is no "action". Instead this is a real love story, filled with all the melancholy that can bring. It is a colourful film of vitality and also a tale of regret and near tragedy.
'Chico & Rita' is partly told in flashback as an old man named Chico, living alone in a small and squalid apartment in a run down part of modern Havana, recalls his time as a virtuoso pianist as he falls for a beautiful singer named Rita. This love story is set against a backdrop of the vibrant and exciting nightlife that typified pre-revolution Havana in the 1940s (at least for visiting American playboys) with the film set to the rhythms of Latin jazz. Soon the duo form a popular musical double-act, but Chico is a bit of a cad and he loses Rita due to his drinking and womanising. Soon she is whisked away to New York City to become a major singer and even a star of MGM musicals, leaving Chico behind. Chico then sells his piano and pursues her in the hope of rekindling their love. As you can probably guess from the fact that the film is told in flashback by a sad man living alone, things don't go especially well and the couple are again separated by the cruelty of fate.
The film's beautiful animation is, from the looks of it, mostly done on computer but given the appearance of traditional animation (à la 'Waltz With Bashir'). The use of computers allows of a very fluid style of direction, that has much more in common with live action than animation - perhaps owing to the fact that the film's co-director Fernando Trueba comes from live action film (whilst the film's other director Javier Mariscal is a designer and not a filmmaker by trade). What the use of animation allows is great period detail, as the film recreates not only 40s Havana and New York, but also Paris. It also enables Chico to meet with long dead legends of music, such as Charlie Parker and Chano Pozo (to whose bloody death Chico bears horrified witness). Some of the film's details are (perhaps knowingly) anachronistic: for example although the Broadway show version of 'On the Town' debuted in 1944, the popular Gene Kelly film wouldn't be released until 1949, a year after Chico's voyage to New York upon which it is referenced (along with the tune of "New York, New York"). But regardless, these period details are a consistent pleasure - and there are lots of them to be seen.
The film's depiction of Cuba is also multi-faceted and nuanced. In the pre-revolutionary section we see Havana as a place that is fun and lively. It is a place full of possibility, where a talented singer or pianist can get noticed and make it in the USA. But also shown is the contrast extreme between the rich and poor, and racism, with the wealthy Americans who come to Havana shown going to racially restricted clubs which don't allow native Cubans. When Chico returns to Cuba amidst the revolution in 1959, things have changed again. Now we are shown the optimism Catro's revolution brought to Cuban people. Indeed Chico's first response seems to be positive. But before long he is told that his music is banned for being too American, which then shows us the limitations brought about by the move to communism. Similarly, the situation Chico finds himself in as an old man highlights the problems of modern Cuba - crumbling and stuck in the past. Whether you put that failure down to the extreme (and unreasonable) economic sanctions imposed on the island by the US or to the inherent failures of communism, it remains a reality which the film captures in detail.
'Chico & Rita' is a beautiful, bittersweet story about love, creativity and growing old, brought to life with vibrant, colourful animation. The period setting, the music, the atmosphere of the piece elevate what is already a really emotionally affecting story to even greater heights. It is a film which skillfully manages to romanticise the past it depicts without ignoring its shadier aspects. Overall it is a human story about well rounded characters, none of whom are really right or wrong, and all of whom are marked by their regrets and failings, but also by their unwavering belief in romantic love. A very good film which happens to be told via animation, hopefully proving we're ready for more.
'Chico & Rita' is rated '15' by the BBFC and is out in the UK on a limited release.
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.
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.
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.
A former freelance film journalist based in Brighton, I have written contributions to The Daily Telegraph and several websites, provided occasional analysis for BBC Radio Sussex and Radio Reverb, and recently I've been involved with several volumes published by Intellect Books.
I've also written about video games for GamesIndustry.biz.
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