On a conceptual level, a documentary that turns a very real tragedy into a slick, edge-of-your-seat thriller occupies distinctly grey moral territory. Especially considering the tragedy at the heart of Bart Layton's 'The Imposter' is the disappearance (and presumed death) of a 13 year-old child, Texan Nicholas Barclay, and the French confidence trickster who stole the boy's identity three years later. Yet the film just about carries it off without seeming crass, partly because it focuses on the titular imposter and his gripping story, but mostly because it is so very well made. Energetic, well-paced, stylishly edited together: 'The Imposter' is an entirely cinematic documentary and highly entertaining - even if that ultimately feels a little twisted.
The film tells the remarkable, scarcely credible, true story of how Frédéric Bourdin fooled -among others - the Spanish police, the FBI, US immigration officials (who issued him an American passport) and, depending on your viewpoint, the Barclay family themselves into believing he was the missing Nicholas - all in spite of his thick French accent and wildly different appearance (including having different coloured eyes). It tells how, not satisfied to have merely gotten away with that impressive swindle, he courted the attention of the American media and gave interviews telling a harrowing story of how he was abducted as part of an international military conspiracy, procuring children for the sexual gratification of officers - an outlandish claim which led to an official government investigation into the matter.
Throughout its twists and turns, the film poses questions about the Barclay's apparent willingness to be deceived: did they simply want to believe they had found their child? Or rather, did the family decide to use Bourdin's claim in order to cover up their own murder of the boy? That's a question the filmmakers can't answer definitively, with no evidence ever brought against the family and with Nicholas still officially a missing person, yet the question of how Bourdin had been able to con them - and so many others - despite his own obvious mental fragility and flimsy cover story, hangs over the entire movie.
For his part Bourdin makes for a compelling narrator, telling his story with an infectious enthusiasm, whilst the decision to inter-cut interview footage with polished re-enactment segments only adds to the sense that this is a great true crime thriller that only happens to be a documentary. 'The Imposter' is out now in the UK, rated '15' by the BBFC.
Last year, I interviewed filmmaker José Padilha, who had at that point only recently been announced as director of next year's new 'RoboCop' movie. Naturally, in this age of vapid re-boots, I was concerned that the humour and political commentary of Paul Verhoeven's 1987 classic might be lost, with the film re-tooled as a straight action movie. A fear he swiftly countered, saying:
“The satire element of RoboCop is, I think, needed today... That kind of social, aggressive satire I haven’t seen done well in movies lately. And it’s almost like the politics and violence in the world is asking for this: 'Someone please make some satire now!' So we’re going to keep that edge.”
He is entirely right: the world - with its financial meltdown, government austerity measures, resurgence of right-wing politics and rapidly advancing technology - is practically begging for something like a vintage Verhoeven movie. We sorely needed a 'RoboCop' or 'Starship Troopers' to come along and savagely poke fun of things, whilst also shamelessly indulging in ultra-violence and gore for our entertainment. An old-school 18-rated science fiction movie, the like of which we haven't really seen since the '12A' certificate was ushered in by comic book movies a decade ago.
Yet, ironically, a comic book adaptation has beaten Padilha to the punch. With the Brazilian's film still nearly a year from release, British television director Pete Travis has swooped in from left-field to deliver all of the above with 'Dredd' - based on 2000AD's Judge Dredd series. Here Karl Urban dons the helmet of the titular fascistic "street judge" in a dystopian future, in a film which is deliciously satirical, whilst also being horrifically and uncompromisingly violent. Like a Verhoeven movie of old, the high-minded political business is indistinguishable from the exploitative, sickeningly fun action stuff. It's funny and sleazy and rarely subtle, with well choreographed action and a tight, disciplined structure. Yet Alex Garland's screenplay is also pretty smart once you get past some (perhaps intentionally) cringe-inducing one-liners.
Dredd himself - a cop, judge, jury and executioner (for those unfamiliar with the character) - is an uncompromising individual, obsessed with enforcing the law to the letter and without question or a shred of compassion. He is a walking Daily Mail column with fire-power, free to threaten the most vulnerable in society from an assumed position of moral authority: he harasses the homeless and sees every law-breaker as nothing more than a scumbag beneath contempt and, often, in need of a good state-sponsored murdering. Yet Garland and Travis tip us off to the fact that we shouldn't necessarily be uncomplicatedly on-side with the protagonist in a number of ways.
The most obvious is the fact that they give us a rather more relatable and warm character in the form of rookie Judge Anderson (Olivia Thirlby), who goes through the movie questioning and undermining her superior's harsh methods and views on society - even going against the rules to spare a criminal's life. Being from the slums herself, and from a marginalised community of psychic mutants, Anderson is less quick to (literally) judge those who transgress the law. Perhaps her psychic abilities give her more empathy than her sociopathic colleagues? What's more, in stark contrast to the unflappable Dredd, she feels remorse at having to kill. As well as Anderson, we're are also given plenty of other reasons to be suspicious of this world's justice system.
For instance, it's clear that giving police the power to murder criminals on sight has not acted as a deterrent against violent crime. In fact, we see that the Judges of Mega-City One are only able to respond to a small percentage of the crimes occurring at any given time. We also see how those fleeing from the cops of this world have little choice but to resort to all out warfare with the authorities. With no chance of reprieve, or anything like a considered trial, the drug dealers and pimps of this reality take to unloading their sub-machine guns and mowing down pedestrians as soon as they see Dredd in their rear-view mirror. If this wasn't a clear enough critique of right-wing ideology, then the scene in which Dredd and Anderson go to arrest a man for being homeless - only to barely react as he's pulverised by a huge mechanical door - is a pretty clear indication of how skewed the "good guys" of this movie are, from a moral standpoint.
Then there's the fact that Lena Headey's crime boss, Ma-Ma, is pretty clearly a victim of repeated sexual abuse and a drug addict. She's pretty cruel, guilty of lots of bloody crimes and seems to take sadistic pleasure in skinning her victims alive, but she's not uncomplicatedly "evil". She's undoubtedly messed up, yet she arguably needs sectioning rather than murdering. And her major vice is arguably less socially harmful than the law's reaction to it: her gang is responsible for putting a new drug called Slo-Mo on the streets - a chemical which causes the user to experience this grey, concrete world in glittery, multi-coloured slow-motion. It actually seems pretty appealing in context.
Where the movie really shines is that this high-minded and timely political commentary is ever-present without being heavy-handed or suffocating how much sheer fun the movie is. The action is brutal and bloody in a way you really don't see any more - even in stuff like 'The Expendables', which exists solely as a throwback to that 1980s action era. It's handled imaginatively, never gets repetitive and there are plenty of clever twists along the way. It's also fantastic that the premise of this movie is so small-scale: basically, our "heroes" get trapped in a gang-controlled skyscraper and have to fight there way to the boss at the penthouse - much like you might in a 90s SEGA arcade brawler. In many ways it's like a feature adaptation of 'Streets of Rage 2', in a very good way.
This is, in effect, the movie Padilha seemed to promise last year, when talking up his handling of 'RoboCop'. That film, however good it may turn out to be, is no longer being released in a vacuum. Arguably, 'Dredd' is the strongest mainstream action-satire film since 'Starship Troopers' in 1997 and one of the year's biggest surprises. 'Dredd' is out in UK cinemas now, rated '18' by the BBFC.
After yet another long absence, here are some more reviews (some more timely than others!). Mainly I'm interested in bigging up Joe Wright's latest, but I'll also briefly mention a couple of others from the last few weeks that I never found time to write about.
'Anna Karenina' - Dir. Joe Wright (12A)
Having leapt out of his period drama comfort zone with the bold and unconventional 'Hanna', Joe Wright has returned to more familiar ground with this adaptation of lauded nineteenth century novel Anna Karenina, also renewing his partnership with Keira Knightley - star of 'Pride & Prejudice' and 'Atonement'. Yet his treatment of Tolstoy's Russian Lit classic is more reminiscent of his under-appreciated 2011 action-thriller than might have been expected, retaining much of that film's dynamism and editing panache. As with 'Hanna', and 2009's patchy misfire 'The Soloist', sound and image are inseparable here, with the line between diegetic sound and Dario Marianelli's score hard to determine.
Wright's bravura camera-work - at times a little self-conscious, but always technically impressive - is now indelibly linked to the soundtrack in a way only matched in contemporary movies by Paul Thomas Anderson. Because Wright continues to develop this approach, 'Anna Karenina' feels like the evolution of his style rather than a retreat back to the comfort zone. In fact, if anything, the way Wright has chosen to stage this adaptation feels more experimental and imaginative than anything he's attempted previously. The whole thing is presented as though it's occurring within one old theatre, with the sets changing around the actors. Yet the film never feels stage-bound or overly theatrical, with this conceit instead increasing the sense that this tragic love story is larger than life. This stylistic choice (which could sound irksome on paper) never seems in the least contrived or heavy-handed either, carried off with a disarming lightness of touch. It's consistently implemented, yet it never upstages the story or characters.
Of course, at just over two hours in length, this is an abridged version of the story, told in broad brush-strokes, yet that is also to its great credit. This isn't an overly literal adaptation, committed to bringing the book's events to the screen in as much detail as possible, but rather Tom Stoppard's deft screenplay boils the thing down to its essential elements and Wright uses the tools of his trade to incite the viewer to feel Anna's all-consuming passion for Aaron Taylor-Johnson's dashing Count Vronsky - and all the feverish madness that it brings. It's a visceral and emotional telling of the story, rather than an intellectual one, but it works extremely well. Arguably Tolstoy's command of realism and his political/spiritual consciousness is a casualty of this treatment (though neither is wholly absent), but this version gets everything else right.
It certainly works as a character study, supported by a fine central performance from an actor in form, with Knightley impressing recently in films are varied as 'Never Let Me Go' and 'Seeking A Friend for the End of the World'. It also benefits from an eye-catching supporting turn from Jude Law as Anna's jilted husband, confirming once and for all his chops as an interesting character actor when not asked to be a leading man (for another example of this phenomenon, see: Colin Farrell). And, though I don't usually mention costumes, hair and make-up (things I generally have little interest in and next to no understanding of), the work here is uniformly brilliant, with a range of interesting hairstyles and moustaches to suit every finely tailored cavalry officer's uniform. I can't vouch for whether or not real Russian aristocrats of the era looked like they'd stepped off the cover of Sgt. Pepper's, but these guys look fantastic. Special mention goes to Matthew Macfadyen's extraordinary and enviable facial hair (below).
'Jo Nesbø's Jackpot' - Dir. Magnus Martens (15)
Spinning out of the decidedly un-Tolstoyan literary world of ubiquitous Norwegian scribeJo Nesbø, whose work inspired the bewildering WTF-fest that was 'Headhunters', comes 'Jackpot': another Scandinavian crime thriller of indeterminable earnestness. This strange Christmas movie (released in the UK at the height of summer), sees a collective football bet - between some leather jacketed nutters who work in a Christmas tree factory and their meek friend - end in betrayal and bloody violence, with the now customary mix of ultra-violence, bizarre comic interludes, lost in translation regional humour and gritty social realism. As with 'Headhunters' earlier this year, I enjoyed it without really understanding a) whether I was watching it properly, b) what was going on at all on a plot level and c) whether it was supposed to be hilariously funny.
I don't know whether either film is objectively "good", but both are utterly insane and highly watchable. Both made me cry from laughing and neither go where you would expect them too. What's more, the characters are, to a man, morally bankrupt and generally quite foolish - with the most appealing in this case being Henrik Mestad's sarcastic and world-weary detective. All in all, a good time at the pictures.
'Berberian Sound Studio' - Dir. Peter Strickland (15)
An interesting curiosity that leaves much to be unpacked and pondered upon, Peter Strickland's second feature - following his roundly-praised low budget Romanian debut 'Katalin Varga' in 2009 - is a psychological thriller of sorts. In it Toby Jones plays a nebbish sound technician from the UK, whisked to Rome in order to create sound effects for a Dario Argento style horror movie. The tone and look of this 70s-set piece is pitch perfect, with a lot of fodder for cinephiles in the details. Jones, so often a scene-stealing supporting player in bigger budget movies, excels in the central role. The story, however, is incredibly slight and the whole thing is aimed at the intellect rather than the heart. That isn't a criticism exactly, but it perhaps explains why I have difficulty getting excited about it beyond appreciating the excellence of its constituent parts. Highly polished and completely unique, but more to admire than love here.
Rarely does a film slip so frequently, or so drastically, between infuriating and sublime as Sarah Polley's 'Take This Waltz'. It's typified as much by tortured metaphors and on-the-nose production design as it is by moments of heartbreaking honesty and dazzling vision. Several isolated scenes are perfectly judged, by the the cast and by Polley behind the camera, though just as many demand derision - notably an early exchange in which Michelle Williams foreshadows her fear of the uncertainty wrought by ending her marriage by describing her unease of being "in between things" during airport connections. The metaphor itself isn't miserable, but no room is left for interpretation or reflection and it gets worse when the same metaphor is picked up - and again discussed in detail - later on.
Though there are just as many great moments, the best involving Seth Rogen, as Williams' husband, and his myriad of emotional responses to the inevitable end of his marriage, including a tear-jerking reveal concerning a "long-term joke". Comic Sarah Silverman also turns in a credible dramatic performance as Rogen's alcoholic sister, though Williams' handsome extra-marital love interest is certainly the film's weak link, as played by Luke Kirby. But this is, for the most part, a showcase for Williams' significant acting talents and it is she who carries the film for the most part, with the other three principal cast members operating in her orbit.
Perhaps best of all is the judgement free way Polley, who also wrote the screenplay, depicts the end of a marriage where neither party has done anything particularly wrong. It's suggested that Rogen's guileless husband has neglected his wife sexually and that there relationship has became comfortable at the expense of excitement, yet overall the end of his marriage is tragic because it comes without much obvious cause. It's also complicated by the idea that, perhaps, Williams will live to regret her decision at some point in the future. Williams wants to be able to feel that early excitement again with somebody and knows she cannot rekindle that with her husband (however much she tries), but that's it: they still basically love each other. Whether she will ever be as comfortable with Kirby, we shall never know, though it's implied that both options may ultimately lead to the same bitter-sweet place.
Whether or not the decision to leave her husband is worth the gamble is the ultimate question posed by 'Take This Waltz', and happily it isn't anywhere near as flippantly 'Dead Poet's Society' as its title may suggest. Whether or not Williams embraces her impulses and takes life's confusing, emotionally turbulent, uncertain invitation to dance, Polley's film is smart enough, and sensitive enough, to make us question that desire and identify with the character's most prosaic, a-romantic concerns.
'Take This Waltz' is out now in the UK, rated '15' by the BBFC.
Now that I'm well and truly equipped with a new PC, I have no good reason to keep my reviews confined to short round-up form. However, I have a few movies still stored up from the past few weeks and that format is the easiest way to clear the deck, so to speak. This time around I present to you quite an (I think) intriguing mix: two little documentaries and two action blockbusters: a "thinking bloke's" thriller and a brainless, but thoroughly (if guiltily) entertaining sequel.
'The Expendables 2' - Dir. Simon West (15)
I hated 'The Expendables' - the 2010 flick designed as a sort of male equivalent of 'Sex & the City 2', built solely to pander to misplaced nostalgia for politically dubious (to be kind) 80s/90s action movies. It had a black heart, horrific politics and - perhaps worst of all - its set pieces were unimaginative and characters instantly forgettable. It was a masterpiece of stunt casting, uniting a group of heroes from yesteryear, but the poster was infinitely more fun than the film itself.
However, director Simon West (of 'Con Air' fame) has delivered a much better sequel after taking the reigns from star (and co-writer) Sylvester Stallone. It's still a little bit racist - "Chinese take out" is the joke as Jet Li jumps out of a plane, whilst every villain is an unassimilated foreigner - and plenty sexist: a shameless sausagefest, every bit as homoerotically suggestive as its predecessor (these dudes talk about each other's "weapons" constantly, whilst the addition of a woman to the group (Yu Nan) gives rise to all sorts of adolescent tittering and performance anxiety). Yet there is something much more fun about it; It feels less po-faced and more willing to have fun with its very silly premise.
It feels like the movie adaptation of a line of 90s children's action figures, complete with collectable vehicles and changeable weapons, and with that the film's regressive, pre-teen version of masculinity becomes more palatable. It knows what it is and is comfortable being the sort of camp curiosity the first one should have been. 'The Expendables 2' doesn't so much verge on self-parody as willingly run into it, and in doing so it becomes much harder to outright hate even if it remains hard to like. In fact, I watched most of the film with a broad smile on my face, laughing loudly at the unrelenting tour de force of escalating bombastic sillyness in front of me. I don't know if it's objectively "good" (whatever that even means) - and that's not a sly way of admitting it isn't: I genuinely couldn't say given that I don't know whether I was laughing at it or with it - but it was funnier than the majority of comedies, I'll give it that.
For instance, Let Li beats up a room of guys with a saucepan; Jason Statham decks a room of dudes dressed as an Orthodox priest; Dolph Lundgren reveals his advanced understanding of chemistry. Chuck Norris turns up and it's hilarious, complete with a riff on his modern status as a meme (Stallone: "I heard you had a run in with a king cobra" Norris: "yeah. And, after five days in agony, the cobra died"). Arnie and Bruce Willis show up (a couple of times) and it's brilliantly self-aware and funny, even if (or perhaps because) it's never subtle as they quote 'Die Hard' and 'The Terminator' at each other. It's oddly pretty good natured fun, given that the head's of "bad guys" are exploding in OTT red streaks in almost every single frame. Humanistic or sensitive the film is not, and it lags whenever we're truly asked to care about these horrible human beings: who torture their prisoners and murder thousands with smiles on their faces. But when it isn't doing that it kind of works.
It's a who's who of Hollywood Republicans getting together to celebrate guns, American might and patriarchy, yet it somehow does this in a way that had even this lilly-livered Guardian reader - one, I remind you, predisposed to hate it, hanging on its every explosion.
'The Bourne Legacy' - Dir. Tony Gilroy (12A)
The obvious question facing this latest instalment of the highly-rated spy-thriller series is "can it survive the loss of star Matt Damon and director Paul Greengrass", as Jeremy "so hot right now" Renner and screenwriter Tony Gilroy take the reigns? The answer is a broad "yes", in that 'Legacy' has not killed the franchise. It's solid, moves along at a fair clip and does the usual job of providing slick action sequences amid an otherwise fairly dense, talky thriller. But it isn't quite as good as the original trilogy, getting a little unnecessarily bogged down in its internal mythology, with far too many scenes involving people in government offices talking about secret projects and the like.
In fact it often feels as though the fairly entertaining scenes between Renner's rogue operative Aaron Cross and his reluctant ally, a scientist who 'knows too much' played by Rachel Weisz, are outnumbered by bits of Ed Norton shouting about "the big screen", "Treadstone", "senate hearings" and "the crisis suite". It tries too hard to associate itself with the previous films too, in a way that prevents it from having much of its own personality. But unfortunately, instead of enhancing its street cred in the intended way, this only adds to the feeling that this is the Bourne B-team: an in-depth look at a previously un-glimpsed background character that plays like a two-hour deleted scene.
There is one brilliant - and I mean absolutely amazing - bit, in which Renner gets one up on a persistently annoying wolf in the most spectacularly overzealous way possible ("you should have left me alone" being his totally unnecessary putdown for the ill-fated woodland quarry). If nothing else it should provide closure to those dissatisfied by the resolution of 'The Grey'. Yet aside from this (admittedly very silly) sequence, it's hard to remember much from a film which is far more efficient and capable than it is particularly outstanding. In that way it serves as an apt metaphor for its dependable, if over-exposed lead.
'Searching for Sugar Man' - Dir. Malik Bendjelloul (12A)
Undoubtedly one of the film's that's effected and fascinated me the most this year, 'Searching for Sugar Man' is a great and stylishly put together documentary about a mysterious 1970s singer-songwriter whose unjust obscurity in the US is made all the more strange by his rock god status in apartheid South Africa. The bizarre and moving story of Rodriquez is probably best left for the film to tell in detail, but rest assured it's a compelling tale about a humble man of immense charisma. It's a less comic yet far classier version of 'Anvil', to sell it in crass marketing terms.
As well as being a great story, irrespective of musical taste, it also serves as an effective showcase for a previously unsung musician, whose music and poetic lyrics are given a long-deserved airing. Tracks from the artist's two early 70s records, Cold Fact and Coming From Reality (his only two albums to date), are allowed to play at length, alongside illuminating visuals that highlight some of the wry social commentary (such as the urban decay of Detroit) without ever being too on the nose. It made an instant Rodriquez fan out of me and I'd say it's a must-see for anyone with an interest in the likes of Bob Dylan, The Byrds or 70s rock in general. I don't usually like to boil down reviews to straightforward recommendations, but I feel the need to in this instance: go see it.
'Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry' - Dir. Alison Klayman (15)
Inspiring even if it's not typically "feelgood", this intimate look at the activism and art of the outspoken Ai Weiwei, a prominent critic of the Chinese government, is deeply affecting - both as a critique of modern China and as a portrait of Weiwei the man. Director Alison Klayman has near total access to her subject, as he fights various vain legal battles against brutal policeman, censors and those who would cover up the deaths of children for the sake of international propaganda. It's a high-stakes battle that Weiwei is waging and he comes scarily close to a bad end at several points, yet his determination and resolve surely should reinvigorate even the most politically jaded and nihilistic of souls. He's never hopeless even when things seem at their most bleak.
Visually it's quite limited, by necessity as much as anything as mobile cameras follow the artist day to day, yet this is still one of the year's best docs. It's also an interesting and rare glimpse at social media as a force for good. People are increasingly cynical about sites like Twitter, but here Weiwei enthusiastically showcases how such tools can be used to mount a sustained campaign for social justice and reform. His love of such sites, and the potential he sees in them to energise the young and democratise society, is refreshing and provides an intelligent voice in favour of progress in an age where such technological advancements are routinely dismissed as cold and alienating.
I have a new computer after over a month without, so - finally - BeamesOnFilm is back in action! This means a return to in-depth reviews, more regular content and should also see me complete my FilmQuest doo-dah (I haven't forgotten about it).
Turning briefly to a more sober topic, I wanted to register my condolences for the late Tony Scott. As I understand it, the 'Top Gun' director committed suicide last night and, speaking as someone with a long history of depression, it's a terrible shame that he felt driven to that point - for whatever reason (we may never know).
As a small form of tribute, here's a trailer for one of his most stylish and enjoyable thrillers - 'Enemy of the State':
Veteran Chilean documentarian Patricio Guzmán pushes a lot of the right buttons with 'Nostalgia for the Light': a elegiac film which investigates our relationship with the past. This includes the distant, galactic past as gleaned by astronomers, using the light of long-dead stars to uncover the secrets behind existence, as well as archaeologists who scratch through the earth looking for evidence of our more recent, immediate past - sifting through the soil for human remains whose calcium was formed in the Big Bang so long ago. Yet the film also looks at smaller, more intimate forms of remembering, as Chile comes to terms with the horrors of the Pinochet-era 1970s.
There is an architect and former political prisoner, who reconstructs images of concentration camps from memory. Meanwhile, there are dozens of bereaved women who comb through the Atacama Desert in a possibly vain search for the bones of murdered loved ones - unable to let go of the past and forsaking the present. One woman dedicates her life to taking care of victims of torture - something Guzmán's narration describes as working in the past. It is even suggested, by one scientist, that the present itself is an illusion: that everything we see and hear is from the past, even if only by millionths of a second. Light is itself nostalgic is the point, yet it is also erasing the past - as a gallery of photos of the "disappeared" subtly conveys, with many of the portraits long-since faded by the sun.
It is fascinating to ponder the relationship between the history of existence and our own, smaller scale trauma as insignificant creatures wondering about on a doomed space-rock - and I admire Guzmán for making an attempt at joining these dots and asking a lot of the right questions. However, the film itself often strains to make its point and sometimes it even feels exploitative of its subjects - most notably as an elderly woman's Alzheimer's is casually used as the basis for a tortured metaphor. The subject matter here - both life, the universe and everything and the story of Chile under Pinochet - is spellbinding, but the execution is sadly lacking. It's inherently profound stuff and I have a feeling various images and soundbites will stay with me, yet 'Nostalgia for the Light' is, to me, a conceptual triumph as opposed to an actual one.
'Nostalgia for the Light' is on limited release in the UK, rated '12A' 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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