'Man of Steel', 'The Great Gatsby' and 'Much Ado About Nothing': review round-up

'Man of Steel' - Dir. Zack Snyder (12A)

I feel like a full-on review of 'Man of Steel' would be pretty redundant at this point, as everything I had to say about what's wrong with it has been said better elsewhere. I'm talking about blog entries by comic book writers like Mark Waid (author of fantastic Superman origin story 'Birthright') and articles from critics like (massive DC comics nerd) Chris Sims of Comics Alliance, who spoke eloquently - and at length - about why it's a bad adaptation of its source material. I wrote a little piece on here about the film's gender politics, though mainly because that was one of the few problems I had with it that I hadn't really seen expressed elsewhere. But between that piece and those other reviews, you pretty much have my feelings on Zack Snyder's cynical, dour and needlessly grimy take on the Superman mythos.

SPOILERS, but it's hard to come away from 'Man of Steel' feeling that anything heroic has taken place given that, in the words of comic writer Brian Bendis: "you basically had Superman save the world but not without causing a worse than 9/11 disaster, make out with his girlfriend in the middle of it, and then murder the bad guy in front of children". When civilians emerge from the rubble and say "he saved us", it's hard to take that seriously given the entire city (and untold millions of lives) seem to have been lost in the meantime. This is not a film in which Superman (Henry Cavill) goes out of his way to save people's lives - at least outside of scenes where that is the express purpose (such as the oil rig and school bus bits near the start). And the aforementioned make-out with Lois Lane (Amy Adams) is even worse when you consider Superman has super hearing: surely he's kissing her whilst hearing the screams and tears of those trapped in the rubble?

For those that think I'm over-thinking that bit or (heaven forbid!) "taking it too seriously", I remind you that Snyder's film - created with 'The Dark Knight' duo David S. Goyer and Christopher Nolan - takes itself incredibly seriously, expending a lot of effort and energy creating a joyless, colourless vision of the hero and his world. A film in which young Clark Kent is bullied by stock movie jerks, when all he wants to do is quietly read Plato. And for a film that takes itself so seriously, it's really odd when it runs headlong into the cheesiest movie cliches - never more so than when Kevin Costner's Jonathan Kent (the film's one genuine triumph) dies trying to save the family dog from an incoming tornado.

Aside from the greatness that was the casting of Kevin Costner as a kindly, middle-American patriarch, Henry Cavill makes for a compelling Superman (speaking with authority but never arrogance) and you're never going to get better than Michael Shannon as an intense, shouty, slightly insane bad guy - but all of the above are wasted by the dreadful movie that surrounds them. It's got more in common with Michael Bay's 'Transformers' than Nolan's Batman: over-loud, tone-deaf, disaster porn and destruction occurring without conscience or consequence. In last years' 'Avengers', we similarly see an American metropolis beset by alien invasion and, whilst the city takes a bit of damage (though nothing on the scale here: it isn't reduced to a crater), there is also emphasis on the heroes saving people's lives and trying to limit that damage. The spectacle in that film comes from all the awesome things the good guys do as they save the day. By contrast, 'Man of Steel' puts emphasis on buildings being punched over as spectacle in and of itself, and Superman rarely comes out of this seeming heroic.

It being a bad movie in its own rite is bad enough, but 'Man of Steel' also makes it extremely difficult to see how DC/Warner Brothers can spin this out into an entire DC cinematic universe of movies, culminating in a Justice League team-up (featuring Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman et al). We've seen seen gritty Superman, and we know gritty Batman can work - and even gritty Green Arrow is currently doing the rounds on TV - but do we really now have to suffer through gritty Flash, gritty Aquaman, gritty Marsian Manhunter, gritty Shazam and gritty Wonder Woman? In the Marvel movies, which thrive on silver age, costumed spectacle and a sense of unabashed fun, it wouldn't be too strange for any character to turn up in all their weird and wonderful glory - a point born out by the in-production 'Guardians of the Galaxy': which features among its heroes a wise-ass, gun-toting Raccoon and an anthropomorphic tree. But with DC's movies to date, it's difficult to understand how this can work - and 'Man of Steel' poses more questions than answers in this regard.

It's also really difficult to see where the Superman franchise itself can go from here: a city got destroyed in this one, during a full-on invasion by dozens of soldiers with, basically, the same powers as Superman. That sounds like the final film in a trilogy, or the perfect scenario for that Justice League movie (with enough stuff going on to keep every hero occupied and necessary), but how can they top it with the next one in this series in terms of pure CGI-fueled spectacle? I'll say this for it: I'm intrigued to find out the answer, though I won't be surprised if the answer is even more explosions and an even higher body-count. Isn't the prevailing wisdom that sequels have to go bigger?

'The Great Gatsby' - Dir. Baz Luhrmann (12A)

This one's been out for ages, but I only found time to see it last week so I'll give my two-penneth a little late.

I haven't read Fitzgerald's celebrated novel - supposedly the masterpiece of American literature - so I can't speak with any authority on whether or not Baz Luhrmann's movie gets it right. But, for my taste, it's a vapid, tacky mess of a film, populated by underdeveloped, yet strangely hateful characters (is there anyone more simpering and with less agency than Tobey Maguire's Nick Carraway and Carey Mulligan's Daisy Buchanan?). A sickening, barely tolerable mix of hyper-active editing, overbearing music and a general busy-ness of aesthetic that drowns out all the details and is the enemy of subtlety. In some ways it feels like a Broadway musical stripped of its songs, and maybe a musical version would have been more watchable, but instead - with the exception of one character-driven scene: a climactic confrontation between Leonardo DiCaprio's Gatsby and Joel Edgerton's Tom - it's a total car crash.

It could be that these problems come straight out of the novel, but there are so many gaps in logic and reason that make this film infuriating. For instance, why is it claimed that nobody has ever seen Gatsby before, when he's constantly shown making the cover of national newspapers? Why are we told he NEVER comes to his lavish, celebrity-filled parties only moments before he makes an appearance at one such event? Why is Nick so instantly enamoured with Gatsby? What is it that Gatsby finds so appealing about the insipid Daisy? Why is it that Daisy and Tom's daughter - mentioned once in passing - doesn't feature at all? Why is it that Nick - the only character with a normal job - seemingly never has to go to work? Why is Jason Clarke's character totally fine with Tom seeing his wife (Isler Fisher) on the side? And why is he immediately enraptured by premeditated, homicidal rage towards a complete stranger when she's killed by accident? I imagine answers to these questions lie in the novel, but they certainly weren't apparent in the film. Which wouldn't really matter if the film was at least a little bit entertaining and not a flagrant abuse of your eyeballs.

And on the Jay-Z soundtrack - which litters the film with anachronistic modern R&B tracks from Beyonce and the like: I'm not inherently against that, even if I think the reasoning (let's show the kids that the excesses of the 1920s were similar to hip-hop culture today!) is spurious and superficial. But where that approach does become a problem is that it has the ultimate, unintended effect of giving the film a very short shelf-life: this is very much 2013's vision of 1925, and it's hard to see how that will have any value - or find much lasting favour - as we get further from the film's initial release.

'Much Ado About Nothing' - Dir. Joss Whedon (12A)

"Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites". Just one of many succinct and perfect lines in Shakespeare's play that really sing coming from the assembled cast of Joss Whedon regulars in this paired down adaptation of the bard. Directed by the 'Buffy' creator, with characteristic wit and lightness of touch, the film sees regular collaborators Amy Acker/Alexis Denisof/Tom Lenk (Buffy/Angel), Nathan Fillion/Sean Maher (Serenity), Clark Gregg/Ashley Johnson (Avengers), Reed Diamond/Fran Kranz (Dollhouse) in front of the camera, whilst brother and sometime writing partner Jed Whedon (Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog) contributes the soundtrack: it's a Whedonverse reunion - all shot on location at the director's Californian house, during downtime from production of 'The Avengers'.

If the idea of a group of wealthy, LA pals, shooting a black and white Shakespeare film whilst on holiday sounds like a recipe for a slightly self-indulgent and incestuous love-in, then it is at least one that works. Not only is 'Much Ado' a really heartfelt and sincere version of the play, featuring stunning performances from Acker and Kranz in particular, it's also riotously entertaining and laugh-out-loud funny in a way most probably won't associate with 17th century iambic pentameter. Without deviating substantially from the original play, Whedon has created something that feels fresh and modern and, in part due to the naturalistic delivery of his cast, is very easy understand for a contemporary audience - giving the old English verse a new lease of life.

Men of Steel - Sexism and the New Superman

From Zack Snyder - the director of the slightly rapey 'Sucker Punch' and nakedly homophobic, machismo-fest that is '300' - Superman reboot 'Man of Steel' is rightly getting a lot of flack from critics for being a terrible movie. I'll post my thoughts on it later in the week, when I get a chance, but today (on Father's Day, no less!) I wanted to write about one particular element that hasn't gotten much attention - and that's the film's abysmal treatment of female characters.

Forget for a moment that "Pulitzer prize winning" reporter Lois Lane (Amy Adams) - the film's only female with any agency whatsoever - only figures out one key plot point/survives an action scene because a hologram of a man literally tells her what to do, step-by-step. Or the fact that a female military officer only exists to say that Superman (Henry Cavill) is hot and to ask dumb questions in the many scenes of Richard Schiff-powered pseudo-science ("what is terraforming?"). Or the fact that the Daily Planet reporter trapped under rubble during one climactic action scene, is also (with crushing inevitability) a helpless lady. Or the cliche scene that sees Clark Kent come to the defense of a helpless waitress, suffering from unwanted male attention. Or the fact that the henchman of the villain we are most encouraged to want to see die is a woman, becoming the default enemy of "cool military guy #3". Forget all of that for a moment, because I want to talk about the parents.

What really bothered me was the film's relegation of Superman's mothers - alien and Earthling alike - to barely relevant supporting roles, whilst emphasising both fathers. A conscious decision highlighted by the fact that both men are played by high-profile leading men (Russell Crowe as Kryptonian Jor-El and Kevin Coster as Jonathan Kent), whilst the women are scarcely of the same high profile. Incidentally that's not to say they aren't of equal talent: the Academy Award nominated Diane Lane (who plays Martha Kent) and Israeli actress Ayelet Zurer (Lara Lor-Van - from whom Superman takes no part of his Kryptonian name) are both talented actors - but they aren't stars. They aren't required to be recognised or loved by the audience as soon as they appear, unlike Crowe and Costner who are expected to exude all the necessary paternal gravitas during the film's many father-son heart-to-hearts.

Comic book writer Mark Waid, author of the fantastic Superman origin story Birthright, penned his own fairly negative review of the film on his blog, after being left "heartbroken" by a midnight screening. But aside from his criticisms, he acknowledged with humility how Snyder's Christopher Nolan produced, David S Goyer scripted movie takes elements from his own telling of the origin story - from visual cues (like the transition from baby Kal-El's spaceship entering Earth's atmosphere to adult Clark Kent - not yet Superman - saving lives) to plot points (Lois Lane scouring the globe writing stories about Superman her editors don't want to publish) and whole chunks of dialogue. And this is true: the film does lift entire elements from Birthright to an almost distracting degree.

So it becomes very telling that when the film takes whole chunks of important dialogue and bonding moments between Clark and his mothers and gender swaps them in favour of male characters. For instance (and these are just a few examples gleaned from quickly flicking through the book again this morning)...

The history of the golden age of planet Krypton is depicted in the film - via a strange, metallic animated background - as quite a traditionally militaristic and very masculine affair. A page from birthright, below (shoddily photographed by me), shows the same historical events: but note ALL the warriors are female. It's a double-page spread and, as you might be able to make out, there's yet another female soldier in the bottom left-hand corner, on the fold. This isn't explicitly mentioned in the text - it's never commented on. It just seems to operate on the logic that Krypton is an alien planet, so who is to say they have adopted the same gender norms? Kudos to Waid and artist Leinil Yu.

Remember in the movie how Jonathan Kent tells Clark that he's the answer to the question of whether or not we're alone in the universe? In Birthright, guess who has that line:

That's right! It's mum. The same mum who, in the film, says and does practically nothing - aside from getting intimated by the bad guy (Michael Shannon's General Zod) and requiring rescue. After which she's completely forgotten about. In fact, Clark leaves her with a bunch of Zod's henchmen and doesn't ever go back to check on her. It's a miracle she survives, because movie Superman's priority in that scene seems to be "punch Zod" rather than "rescue mum".

In any case, Costner's Jonathan Kent gets all of Matha's key dialogue and character moments from Birthright - whilst retaining all his own - and the film is similarly skewed towards the male characters when it comes to the Krypton parents.

In the film, you may recall, it's Crowe's Jor-El who has the courage, scientific genius, emotional detachment and sense of perspective to send his baby son into space toward Earth, and off his doomed planet. Lara presses some buttons to initiate the launch, whilst Crowe has a pointless fist-fight with Zod (action! Please don't be bored kids!), but otherwise she's pretty passive and primarily ruled by emotion. And, when it comes to making the big decision, it's her who is portrayed as reluctant to send the baby into space - whilst Crowe is left to man-up and gets things done.

Here's how the exact same beat plays out in Waid's comic book (below):

That's right: the opposite way. Lara is the strong one, not ruled by emotion, with the courage and hope to send her son into the unknown, rather than leave him to certain doom with them on Krypton. It's Jor-El who wavers in a way that a male movie star apparently can't. Wouldn't that have been interesting in the film? But Russell Crowe had to be shown as the strong one who 1) got things done and 2) actually advanced the story. In the comic it's Lara who actually initiates the entire plot. In essence, she creates Superman as we know him, sending him to our world. And then, on Earth, it's Martha who helps create the man he becomes: the caring, selfless hero and saviour of mankind (incidentally the film makes it very clear - through the line "I'm as American as it gets" - that Superman belongs to the US and not to us). She encourages him and has unshakable faith in him, even whilst Jonathan gives air to doubt.

In fact, part of Martha's role in the comic book is in creating her son's costume and helping to fabricate his nebbish Clark Kent cover identity - both things rendered obsolete in this latest film adaptation, that presumably thought an outfit designed by the hero's mum wouldn't play as especially cool. Instead, in the film, the iconic outfit (or at least a muted and dour incarnation) is bestowed upon him by a holographic Jor-El. That's right: a long-dead father is more useful and relevant in this film than his living mother.

I bring the comic up for direct comparison because it seems clear it was a basis for much of what happens in 'Man of Steel' - and the gender swapping here seems consciously done in favour of the male characters. You can decide whether that's a symbol of patriarchy or the need to give Crowe/Costner more screentime, but either way, I hope you agree: it's pretty rubbish.

Oh and SPOILER WARNING!!!!!!!!!: the film's version of Martha Kent sends her husband INTO THE TORNADO THAT KILLS HIM in order to rescue the family dog. And she's not even shown to feel bad about that. She's a truly wretched character.

Review to follow.

'Populaire', 'A Hijacking', 'Fast & Furious 6', 'Behind the Candelabra' and 'The Iceman': review round-up

A bumper edition round-up this week, as I've not updated for a while. Been busy with other stuff, like hosting/writing the Hold Onto Your Butts film quiz at Komedia (in Brighton). Above is the latest of our picture rounds, as drawn by the excellent Joe Blann. Consensus is that this is the hardest of the picture rounds so far... I don't think anybody got the three point question!

'Populaire' - Dir. Regis Roinsard (12A)

Light, colourful and fluffy in a way that won't surprise those familiar with this brand of whimsical, middle-brow French comedy - 'Populaire' is an affable enough movie, mostly thanks to its supremely watchable leads: Deborah Francois as a clumsy, hapless secretary with a special gift for speed-typing and Roman Duris as her cold and competitive boss. Set in the late-50s, at a time when international typing competitions were apparently the hottest ticket in town, and a source of front-page news, it's a formula rom-com that's also equal parts 'Rocky' (with its heavy reliance on sports movie tropes), 'The Secretary' (in its power-imbalanced, sadomasochistic relationship between boss and employee) and 'Mad Men' (if only in its emphasis on the sartorial glamour of the period, as popularised by that TV show). It's chic and mildly diverting stuff, that provides a few gentle laughs - and just as many truly awful lines to go with its questionable gender politics.

'A Hijacking' - Dir. Tobias Lindholm (15)

An exceptional Danish thriller which takes an almost procedural approach to its realistic portrayal of modern day piracy, this is a tense, tightly-wound piece of filmmaking that explores what happens when a large freighter ship is commandeered by armed African pirates and its crew held for months on the open sea: a fate that's become increasingly common in the last decade. As the pirates haggle for ransom with the company that owns the ship, 'A Hijacking' follows both the struggles of the captured crew (mostly via Johan Philip Asbæk's traumatised cook) and the moral dilemmas facing those in the company board room - with Søren Malling's no-nonsense CEO taking a dangerously hands-on approach in negotiations, against the advice of a piracy expert (played with authority by real-life corporate security consultant Gary Skjoldmose-Porter).

Even-handed and intelligent, director Tobias Lindholm's film doesn't lay the blame at the feet of the corporation - it doesn't present the board as villains for not immediately caving in to all the pirates demands - and doesn't even really vilify the pirates (even if they are often quite frightening and capable of great violence). Instead it seems to simply present the experience as what it is: something terrifying and life-changing for everybody involved, right down the anxious families of those held captive. Malling's CEO is shown as a man under great pressure, who - though not subject to the appalling conditions of the ship's crew - has his life upended by events to a very similar degree. What the film doesn't do is explore any of the political or economic conditions that have made piracy increasingly common, but that's the subject for a preachier, less visceral movie: one potentially less devastating, shocking and emotional.

'Fast & Furious 6' - Dir. Justin Lin (12A)

I haven't seen any of the other films in this increasingly popular series, but I understand the franchise used to be about street racing - something that, save a pointless, mid-film diversion, doesn't really factor in this straight-up action movie. It's all shooting and punching and making things explode, whilst cops hire criminals to catch worse criminals - in a plot that involves some McGuffin weapon that, if sold to an unfriendly nation, could mean war and stuff. It doesn't really matter. What matters is Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson is in it, along with franchise mainstays Vin "The Mumbling" Diesel and Paul "Who Is This Guy" Walker. They drive fast and incredibly shiny cars - and they do ridiculous, physics defying things in the name of punching the bad dudes, scoring with chicks in hot-pants and safeguarding their "family".

That particular F-word gets bandied about a lot here, as the film goes to great lengths to show that it's actually a deeply emotional drama about a group of friends with feelings and character arcs such - just like in a real film. But it isn't and, frankly, it'd be better if they didn't bother pretending otherwise. The film is far more fun when tanks are crushing cars on a Spanish highway than when it's about gruff, musclemen explaining how they've got "to set things right" for some wrong committed five films ago that nobody remembers. Just explode more stuff already. Especially as the film's attempts to have anything approaching a plot always backfire, as our heroes repeatedly interrogate enemies in order to find out stuff they already knew - and one character even travels to another continent, has himself put in prison and very nearly dies, trying to unearth knowledge the rest of the gang seemingly already posses back in England. Very odd.

It's also amusing that nearly every scene in the first half of the film follows the exact same formula: a group of our heroes are ridiculed by unnecessarily rude people after asking a polite question, and respond by beating up everybody in the room. The message seems to be: don't mock Vin Diesel... he's, like, really strong and he'll probably smash your face in until you're unconscious. It's a difficult message to argue with, but it isn't revelatory, even to a 'Fast & Furious' series newcomer like myself. Don't pick on people with big muscles for no apparent reason, y'all.

In all seriousness, it's hard to get over how brazenly sexist this film is in order to sit back and enjoy the popcorn. It's all gyrating women in bikinis, dancing around cars, whilst our protagonists watch and say "damn", possibly whilst bumping bro-fists. At one point a character explains that cars are better than women because "when you trade up for a better model they don't take half your shit". This isn't an ironic statement and it says a lot about who these douche bag characters are and who they think this film is for. The Rock admittedly has a really appealing screen presence - self-aware and charming - but the rest of the lunk-heads that make up the cast, including a sadly under-utilised Gina Carano, are just grunting meat-puppets. Aside from a couple of jaw-droppingly ridiculous set pieces, this is a film that could have been gloriously trashy and over-the-top - in a way that compensated you for the aforementioned stupidity of it all - but ended up merely being a bit dull.

'Behind the Candelabra' - Dir. Steven Soderbergh (15)

Following his supposed "last ever film" - 'Side Effects', released earlier this year - Steven Soderbergh returns to cinemas with this blackly comic and extremely bleak portrait of glamorous entertainer Liberace, which focuses on the famously closeted pianist's peculiar relationship with a man named Scott Thorson, upon whose recollections the film is based. A TV movie in the US, produced by HBO after studios reportedly rejected the film as "too gay" to be commercial, 'Behind the Candelabra' is the fruit of a long-running passion project of the prolific director and sees Michael Douglas and Matt Damon deliver brilliant performances as Liberace and Thorson respectively. Douglas in particular is in inspired form, with his turn potentially career-defining, seemingly coming out of nowhere. In many ways his performance is the obvious joy and appeal of the film, with Liberace an outrageous, larger than life figure, so credit must also go to Damon for being the emotional center that gives meaning to all the mincing.

Even as it follows Liberace in his twilight years, with his peak decades behind him, the film manages to show us the highs and lows of his life: giving us glimpses of his performances on Vegas stages, in front of adoring fans, as well as showing us the loneliness and pitiful sadness born of that mix of hyper-fame/wealth and keeping such a large aspect of his life a (admittedly poorly kept) secret. He's a paranoid figure and a man with few (arguably no) real friends - or meaningful connections of any kind, beyond the revolving door of pretty boys that he keeps in his "palatial kitsch" mansion. We can only speculate about how close to reality the film gets, being based on the memoirs of a man who unsuccessfully sued Liberace, but the film is quite perfect at plunging the viewer headlong into the despair and loneliness we can imagine comes with extreme celebrity.

Where the film really excels is in its portrayal of the power imbalance shown in the relationship between Thorson and his self-described "father, brother, lover and best friend" Liberace. This has a universal quality, as Thorson - so in thrall to, and financially dependent on his partner - has almost no agency. He is in a precarious position, and is all too aware of that fact, which means he is to a certain extent unable to resist much of his cruel and often abusive treatment. He's a man who offers and gives so much to his lover but whose contributions are overlooked and frequently denied the moment there's an argument - a situation that's probably familiar to many. It's this transcendent bit of drama, along with Soderbergh's hauntingly sterile cinematography, the black wit of the script and the fine central performances, that means the film stands up very well next to the director's other minor masterpieces of recent years.

'The Iceman' - Dir. Ariel Vromen (15)

An impressive cast - lead by the intensely watchable Michael Shannon - doesn't stop this "based on a true story" biopic about a notorious hitman from being deadly dull. Basically, it's the tale of a guy who murders hundreds of people in cold blood - seemingly because he has a cold detachment that renders him indifferent to human life, brought on by an abusive childhood and lapsed Catholicism - but who's alright really because he doesn't want anything bad to happen to his young daughters. That's about the depth of it. Chris Evans and David Schwimmer are nearly unrecognisable in supporting roles, which is at least mildly interesting, but otherwise we have Ray Liotta as the schlubby, unpredictable head of an Italian crime family and Winona Ryder as the shiny-eyed innocent who doesn't know where her husbands money comes from. Maybe it's a victim of art imitating life, but it's a story we've seen played out a million times before, and with a lot more vigour and imagination.

For a movie about a contract killer, there's no style or panache to how he does his business. Some key "hits" occur off-screen and most are left to montage - with the only exception being a hit on James Franco, which many may find cathartic in the wake of his extreme over-exposure. This is fine if we aren't being sold the crime as glamour bit we usually get in mob movies, but the film offers nothing compelling in its place. The only consequence to violence and a life of crime that we see is that, eventually, people might be violent towards you and your loved ones. Aside from that it's a passionless film with nothing to offer.

'I'm So Excited' and 'Star Trek Into Darkness': review round-up

'I'm So Excited' - Dir. Pedro Almodovar (15)

Pedro Almodovar returns to his early trashy sex comedy roots with this unabashedly frothy and disposable little number about an airline cabin crew attempting to calm passengers after it's revealed the plane they are on has a faulty landing gear. In the wake of this news the various colorful occupants of this otherwise routine flight from Madrid to Mexico find themselves diving headlong into hedonistic excess - taking drugs and openly copulating left and right, with three extremely camp air stewards (and their sexually conflicted pilots) leading this descent, both literally and metaphorically.

While it's the Spanish director's least overtly serious movie in some time, there is clearly something else going on here beneath the veil of froth. It's telling that only first class passengers are kept awake for the entire movie, with the rest of the plane put to sleep by the crew before we join the flight - either because the director finds the lives of the extreme personalities and colourful characters at the front of the plane more interesting than those he imagines at the back, or because he is saying something about social class. For the record, I have no idea which. It's possibly a bit of both, but maybe he's saying something about modern Spain and those leading the country to ruin in the wake of a financial crisis that hit his country worse than most.

A real-life scandal surrounding a disused La Mancha airport lingers in the background; a high-profile businessman on the flight is trying to escape fraud charges by heading to central America; one of the passengers is world famous dominatrix; another is a hitman; and all put unwavering, superstitious faith in the words of a spacey and naive clairvoyant. Between these broad, larger-than-life caricatures and the eccentric and debauched goings on of the crew - freely swigging alcohol and staging pre-planned dance routines to their customers bemusement (and anger) - the film paints a picture of a reckless and extremely tacky Spain. A place where nothing works and nobody can be trusted to look beyond immediate gratification (the mechanical fault itself is the result of a distracted and incompetent ground crew in Madrid, as played by Almodovar regulars Antonio Banderas and Penelope Cruz), but where (SPOILER WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) everything somehow turns out OK in the end. It's an affable place, but not without frustration. Much like the film itself.

Beyond a gloriously camp set-piece which sees the stewards dancing to Pointer Sisters' number of the English language title, the whole thing feels strangely flat. It seems to want to be this dizzying, extravagant romp - full of naughtiness and cheeky laughs - but it never quite gets there. Some of that may be lost in translation, with Spanish-speaking friends telling me the English subtitles lose a lot of the humour, which comes from the use of language (comedy is a notoriously tough genre to effectively translate), but from my vantage point it just wasn't funny. And not just because I didn't laugh at the jokes, but because I could rarely see where the jokes were - unless, of course, I'm just supposed to laugh if someone talks about bi-sexuality and oral sex. Ultimately it wasn't nearly as entertaining as its premise or the record of its director would suggest, even if there's potentially some interesting social commentary lurking beneath its perhaps deceptively shallow surface.

'Star Trek Into Darkness' - Dir. J.J. Abrams (12A)

The "re-booted" 'Star Trek' - which "re-imagines" the crew of the original Starship Enterprise as super-slick trendies, each with one distinct personality trait and often also a funny voice - is back, along with the world's least inspiring filmmaker ('Lost' creator and Spielberg super-fan J.J. Abrams) and a script born from the minds that brought us the 'Transformers' trilogy (Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman) and 'Prometheus' (Damon Lindelof). It's promising stuff on paper, especially as this sequel is going the fresh, rarely-trodden path of being "darker and edgier" than what's come before. (Because everything wants to be 'The Dark Knight' so, so badly now.) The director's surely by now self-parodic love of lens flare is back too, along with a lot of others things which return from previous movies and which it would be churlish of me to spoil here.

If I read as unduly cynical about this whole project then I apologise, but I can't take these new Trek films seriously. Or as light-hearted fun. Or as anything else in particular. It's a big bag of ready salted crisps - maybe even those weird old ones where you used to have to add your own salt. It's quite clear that even the makers don't really know who they are trying to please, with fan service and nods to the original series (or should I say "timeline"?) every other second even as they take the bold step of turning it into a straight-up action film - jettisoning all of franchise founder Gene Roddenberry's principles and core ideals into deep space along the way. It's an action flick in Star Trek uniforms and science fiction only because there are spaceships. New Trek (or Nu Trek as I'm now calling it) is superficial and vacuous in the extreme, wearing the clothes of a beloved pop culture icon in quasi-ironic fashion - in crass American high school terminology: it turns the beloved property of bullied nerds into something more suitable for their jock tormentors.

That's not to say there aren't people involved who genuinely love the "franchise", just that these people - like those who made/continue to make the 'Lord of the Rings' films - think faithful adaptation of clothing, character names, places and the so-forth represent what something is about, whilst not thinking any deeper about what's actually at that property's core. So here a series that's always been about an idealised and optimistic idea of an evolved human race, that ventures out into space to spread the love and for the sake of discovery, becomes about horrible humans destroying each other because they're a bunch of dicks. Star Trek is, traditionally, a pop cultural counter-point to knee-jerk revenge fantasies, irrational bouts of anger and massive bodycounts - it was humanist, even to the point where it was sometimes a bit preachy and smug. I don't particularly like Star Trek as a thing, but I like this far less. I might not personally like Star Trek, but I have more respect for what it is and what it means - beyond clothing and laser guns and badges - then these people seem to. If anything about these middling films - and both films are 100% OK - has the power to annoy me, then it's that.

Like I say, the film itself is exactly alright - too bland and inoffensive for me to review without ranting around the subject (see Philip French's barely two paragraph write-up in The Guardian) and, like all of Abrams' work, built around so many twists, surprises and mysteries that you can't really properly talk about what happens either without spoiling it. I'll just say there are moments when it's laughable and some where it's genuinely funny. There are bits where it's exciting and others where it's lame. The performances are pretty solid across the board (Zachary Quinto is an excellent Spock and Karl Urban steals every scene he's in as Bones, whilst Benedict Cumberbatch is predictably good to watch as the baddie), though that depends on your tolerance for dodgy accents in many cases. The action scenes are uninspired on the whole and Abrams has some annoying visual ticks (his constantly zooming camera is one such distraction), but the film is not un-enjoyable for much of its length. Just not particularly memorable either. And (potential SPOILER depending on how sensitive you are!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) it leans uncomfortably on another film's reputation.

'Iron Man 3', 'Oblivion', 'The Look of Love' and 'Mud': review round-up and 'Thor: The Dark World' trailer

Here's a trailer for this November's terribly exciting looking 'Thor: The Dark World', just because. Now on to the business of reviews:

'Iron Man 3' - Dir. Shane Black (12A)

As much as I love 'The Avengers' and am (as evidenced above) obsessed with the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe, 'Iron Man 3' was not a film I rushed into with much expectation or the excitement I already feel for the upcoming Thor and Captain America sequels. Whilst Robert Downey Jnr's Tony Stark has been the most profitable one of the bunch so far for Marvel, with the patchy 'Iron Man 2' the most successful pre-Avengers "Phase One" movie, Iron Man has always left me cold. I've enjoyed the films enough, but I never loved them like I love the others. Perhaps because Iron Man seems to love himself enough for the both of us. That all changed, however, with Shane Black's new sequel to the series, which basically just turns the franchise into an awesome 90s buddy comedy, combining jaw-dropping action sequences - and some of the biggest and most imaginatively conceived superhero set-pieces yet seen - with dozens of genuinely funny and quotable lines. It's exciting, clever, superbly acted (Ben Kingsley's performance, in particular), and as close as you can come to a guaranteed good time at the pictures.

The script somehow blends all the best elements of a buddy cop movie (notably in Downey Jnr and Don Cheadle's team-up), a sort of Capra-esque Christmas movie (it'll sound shit on paper, but Iron Man's pairing with a smalltown kid is entirely winsome), an espionage thriller, a deft political satire (maybe overselling that a touch, but what the film does with Kingsley's villain is inspired) and a classic modern superhero movie. It's a 'Kiss Kiss Bang Bang' style deconstruction of action movie tropes and a faithful sequel to both 'Iron Man 2' and 'The Avengers' - which it references whilst also managing to be its own thing completely. It bravely takes Tony Stark out of the suit for most of the movie - putting him in more peril than ever before, and allowing him to be more genuinely heroic - whilst also still recognisably being a Marvel comics adaptation. It does a lot of things and it does most of them excellently. And it's probably the only superhero movie to have a satisfying "end boss" fight to boot.

I can't express enough how smart and purely fun Shane Black's movie is: unsentimental and yet full of unabashed heart, in a way that finally made me love this character. His screenplay - co-written with Drew Pearce - is fantastic, not only in its dialogue and character choices (Gwyneth Paltrow is refreshingly allowed to be much more than a damsel in distress), but in the way he contrives such wonderful and unexpected action sequences. Such as when Tony is forced to improvise new weapons after losing his suit and so nips into a hardware store, or when he successfully retrieves part of his suit and has to make do with what boils down to a glove and a boot. Here, for the first time in one of these movies, filmmakers have crafted antagonists who can actually pose a threat, allowing Tony to reasonably deploy his extensive arsenal in its entirety, hopping between suits in a sequence that's fast-paced and unlike anything else in the series to date. Don Cheadle gets more punch-the-air-awesome moments than I thought possible for an actor who was the British one in 'Ocean's Eleven' and Guy Pearce makes a sensational villain. It's just fantastic summer fun.

'Oblivion' - Dir. Joseph Kosinski (12A)

Say what you will about Hollywood "product" being derivative and low on original ideas, but surely nothing - no sequel or spin-off or re-make - is as cynical and brazenly plagaristic as the Tom Cruise sci-fi vehicle 'Oblivion', directed by Joseph Kosinski of 'Tron: Legacy' fame. You'd struggle to name a sci-fi movie or video game made in the last two decades that this one doesn't pillage for intellectual property, stealing wholesale plot elements, concepts and designs from the likes of the low budget cult hit 'Moon' all the way up to blockbusters like 'Independence Day'. There's weapon and costume designs lifted from the game series Mass Effect, whilst many will be quick to spot the embarrassingly blatant similarities between Melissa Leo's character - an untrustworthy, disembodied computer-treated voice - and the game Portal. And that's not even mentioning how much it rips off the filmography of its star, as we watch his continued slow fade from relevance.

It's a film that allows Tom Cruise - in the increasingly desperate "I'm not too old, honest, look what I can do!" phase of his career - to run really fast across sand, to ride motorcycles wearing sunglasses and to play an ace-pilot-and-ace-marksman-who-is-the-best-at-everything-he-does-and-a-scientist-and-the-saviour-of-mankind-who-is-irresistible-to-all-womenTM. Within the first twenty minutes he's taken two showers and gone for a dip in a swimming pool, and whilst the man is in unquestionably good condition for a fifty year old (much better shape than I've ever been in, for the record), his ab-flexing determination to prove how he still "has it" really isn't at all appealing.

The film itself is at its most tolerable when it epitomises the world of Tom Cruise cliche rather than when it's raiding every modern sci-fi classic for ideas - but mostly it's a bland, flavourless waste of two hours. Sometimes it's at least a slick and reasonably pretty diversion, with Kosinski's bright white Apple-influenced brand of future chic carrying over from the similarly attractive-yet-hollow world of his last film. Yet more often the whole thing is a display of baffling incompetence on nearly every level, with a central premise that doesn't stand up to any scrutiny, clunky exposition monologues repeated in their entirety more than once and twists you see coming a mile away (at least one of which is on the damn poster). The drone robots are fairly cool - with their use in war raising the film's only potentially interesting moral question - and the 'Top Gun' style flying sequences have their moments, but this is definitely one to avoid and, I would predict, one destined to be quickly forgotten.

'The Look of Love' - Dir. Michael Winterbottom (18)

The Steve Coogan/Michael Winterbottom partnership, which has served both so well over the years with the likes of 'A Cock and Bull Story' and '24 Hour Party People', continues with 'The Look of Love': an unfocused and shallow biopic about Paul Raymond - the infamous millionaire who was once Britain's wealthiest man. The film chronicles Raymond's career from - as the film would have it - a glorified circus ringmaster in the 1950s to an ageing property magnate and soft-core pornographer in the 90s, via his 60s/70s heyday as the proprietor of Soho's most sophisticated and talked about gentleman's clubs and publisher of a controversial, and widely read, men's magazine. The main problem with the film, aside from its strange refusal to engage with any social/political issues beyond glib one-liners, is that Coogan - a versatile performer - plays Raymond as indistinct from TV creation Alan Partridge.

Now, I bow to no man in my love of Alan Partridge as a comedy creation, but I'm guessing Paul Raymond was not so similar to Norwich's favourite son and Coogan's decision to play him this way is baffling. Every comic aside, awkward pause and geekish piece of trivia is pure Partridge, albeit a wealthy and successful one. It's a fact that cheapens the movie and renders its few attempts at real drama insincere. This is a pity as the film becomes more and more about the apparently complex relationship between Raymond and his daughter, as played by emerging star Imogen Poots - who steals the film out from underneath its star with a multi-faceted showing that ranges from vulnerable and troubled, to self-assured and downright cocky. The fact that the tragedy of Poots' character takes centre stage - being part of the film's framing device and used as a the catalyst for present-day introspection for Raymond - makes it even more of a pity that Coogan's central performance seems so disingenuous.

If the purpose of a biopic is to reveal something about its subject, to leave you feeling you know more about a person on the way out than you did on the way in, then 'The Look of Love' has well and truly failed. I leave the film none the wiser about what Paul Raymond was like as a man, with film engaging with this real historical figure the same way it engages with the "swinging sixties": presenting both with crude, cartoonish caricature and seemingly without affection. It certainly doesn't earn its mawkish and manipulative ending.

'Mud' - Dir. Jeff Nichols (12A)

In the very best of ways, 'Mud' - Jeff Nichols' follow-up to the impressive 'Take Shelter' - is a kids film. Not merely because its protagonist, Ellis (Tye Sheridan), is a 15 year-old boy, but because of the way the tale is framed: not simply as a coming of age story, but as a classic boys adventure in the mold of Mark Twain or vintage Spielberg of the 1980s. Or, better yet, 'Stand By Me'. The sort of film that looks children in the eye and treats a young audience with respect, refusing to sand away the rough edges yet not completely forsaking wonder. I have no idea whether Nichols ever envisaged the film as one for all ages - and it certainly isn't being sold that way and may not end up reaching that audience - but 'Mud' is a pretty perfect children's film, featuring a young hero in Ellis young boys can certainly empathise with. It certainly nails a certain time in a boy's life and this is easily as complete and challenging a role as a young actor is ever given, with Sheridan a real talent.

At its simplest, 'Mud' is the story about aimless, working class kids from broken (or breaking) homes who spend their days doing what boys do at that age: they go places they aren't supposed to, stay out later than they are meant to and make grand plans in secrecy. These boys, living on a river, take to playing around on a deserted and snake-infested island, climbing trees and playing with sticks, until one day they find an abandoned boat in a tree and decide to make it their own. The only trouble is a wanted man named Mud (Matthew McConaughey) has made the boat is home and makes them a deal: they can have the boat with his blessing, if they bring him some food and run some simple errands. Increasingly dangerous little adventures follow, which bring the kids deeper into Mud's difficulties than might be sensible, but - in the great kids film tradition - the kids go through hell to protect their new, social outcast friend from the threat posed by the local grown-ups: the police, the parents and the rest. In Mud McConaughey has a role every bit as memorable and intense as 'Killer Joe'.

'Mud' is a beautiful and moving piece of work. Sincere and populated by warm, genuinely loving characters right through the cast. It goes unexpected places and sidesteps every cliche you think you can see coming along the way. Overwhelmingly it's a film about love - in all its forms - in all its fragility and with all its pitfalls, but which ultimately manages to be warm and optimistic without compromising the gritty stuff. Love is hard and sometimes impermanent, it says. You might throw everything into it and get your heart ripped out, or even find yourself publicly humiliated as a result of unrequited affection. Yet it's worth it: it's the best thing we have and the only thing in this world worth having. That is basically the lesson learnt by the young hero through his trials and tribulations, but all without seeming twee or saccharine in the slightest. Quite an achievement - and a noble one at that.

'A Late Quartet' review:

The fact that I forgot I'd seen 'A Late Quartet' - and thus forgot to include it in my last round-up - actually speaks volumes for how I felt about it. There's really nothing bad about it. It's solid existential New Yorker angst stuff, with a great ensemble cast featuring the always brilliant Philip Seymour Hoffman, Christopher Walken and Catherine Keener, and Yaron Zilberman's drama (co-written with Seth Grossman) is smart enough and rarely boring. Yet it's hard to get excited about, being a sort of middle-brow and evidently quite forgettable American version of this year's earlier 'Quartet' - and boasting the same "legendary musical troupe re-group for one final concert" plot-line. The main difference here is that more emphasis is placed on music, and playing instruments with a group, as a metaphor for life and relationships.

I don't really want to spend any more time on this, so here's a trailer for a film I'm really excited about. Noah Baumbach's 'Francis Ha', co-written with (and starring) Greta Gerwig. 'A Late Quartet' could have used some humour, not to mention a bit of Greta.

'In the House', 'The Place Beyond the Pines' and 'Finding Nemo 3D': review round-up and more Joe Blann quiz art

Finally getting around to some more reviews. My January resolution of 10 posts a month has failed spectacularly! Anyway, above is the latest Joe Blann picture round masterpiece from the Duke's at Komedia film quiz - Hold Onto Your Butts (first Thursday of every month). Below are some reviews.

'In the House' - Dir. Francois Ozon (15)

Prior to this one, my only exposure to the work of French filmmaker Francois Ozon was the kitsch and campy 'Potiche' - a multi-coloured 70s-set comedy about sexual politics that really grated on me in Venice, way back in 2010. It's possible that my intense dislike of that film has grown out of proportion since being bored by it at that festival, perhaps as much as a result of its bizarre appropriation by Odeon Orange Wednesday ads as by exaggerated memories of the film itself. In any case, my disdain for his last work almost prevented me from seeing Ozon's 'In the House' which, it turns out, would have been scandalous. It's one of the best films of the year: smart, funny, gripping, with a sly wit - excellently performed and with lots to say about storytelling, writing, voyeurism and more. It's truly excellent.

It stars the affable Fabrice Luchini, who seems to specialize in playing oblivious middle-class intellectuals, as a French literature teacher and failed author who is intrigued to find one piece of homework not written by a vacuous moron and becomes obsessed with the student responsible (Claude, Ernst Umhauer). Convinced that Claude has raw talent in need of guidance, Luchini takes him under his wing, giving him extra hours outside of school. However beneath this inspirational 'Dead Poets Society' style love of education and artistry there is also a slightly grubby aspect to proceedings: Claude's writings to Luchini take the form of an ongoing serial based on the student's real life obsession with and manipulation of the family of one of his classmates. So, in aiding Claude, Luchini is actively encouraging this increasingly destructive venture into another's family home and doing so partly to satisfy his own voyeuristic interest in the soap opera of their lives. A saga upon which he and his art gallery manager wife (Kristin Scott Thomas) are hopelessly hooked - filling the void left by their joyless, sexless marriage.

In telling this story Ozon's film is always fresh and imaginative. For instance, we occasionally witness the same events told by Claude in different ways, responding to the directions of his tutor. His style of storytelling and preoccupations also change in reaction to Luchini's advice. We see Luchini pop-up and offer critique to his student, even as events in the titular house unfold, in a device that feels like something out of the best Woody Allen comedy. There's obviously something about storytelling as voyeurism going on here throughout - and also the way the same events can be warped and manipulated when described to an audience, but what I found especially intriguing is the way Ozon's screenplay - based on a Spanish stageplay by Juan Mayorga - eventually finds a way to come full circle and investigate the homes of the protagonists: their growing obsession with this one, pretty ordinary family, ultimately saying more about their own unhappy lives. Literature as theraputic release or as harmful self-delusion? The ending left me uncertain.

'The Place Beyond the Pines' - Dir. Derek Cianfrance (15)

High expectations for Derek Cianfrance's epic follow-up to 'Blue Valentine' were undermined by my increasingly aggressive indifference to the growing hipster cult of Ryan Gosling. But, for reasons that become clear about a third of a way in, 'The Place Beyond the Pines' isn't really the spiritual successor to 'Drive' it's been marketed as in some places, on account of "the Gos" playing an ace motorcyclist-turned-criminal. It's much better than that: a cross-generational tale of fathers and sons - of consequences and regrets. Ambitious, sprawling and never less than compelling. It's the tale of one ostensibly bad man who will do anything for his son, even if it means breaking the law. And one clean-cut good-guy who will do his utmost to defend the law even if it means neglecting his son. There's more to it than that, especially in the third act, but it's an interesting central dichotomy.

Visually it's stunning, as shot by Steve McQueen's regular DP Sean Bobbitt, and somehow structurally tight in a way that belies its long running time. Factor in the fact that both Gosling and the recently Oscar-nominated Bradley Cooper are on top, career-defining form and it's potentially a modern American indie classic. It's not the crime thriller a lot of people will be expecting (it's really a fairly patient and introspective drama), yet 'Pines' isn't for want of horribly tense moments or spectacular sequences - notably a one-take car chase shot from the perspective of police cars in pursuit of Gosling's motorcycle. To say much more about it at this point would be to risk spoiling it, so I'll just leave it there for now.

'Finding Nemo (3D)' - Dir. Andrew Stanton (U)

It's not really a new release as far as I'm, concerned, so I'll keep it extremely brief. Andrew Stanton's classic - one of the vintage Pixar films - returns to cinemas, and I was delighted to find it was as funny and charming as the first time around. The gags come thick and fast, and range from the knock-about and silly, to the existential and witty, and more often than not they work. The animation and attention to detail - particularly the work the animators have done acting the various characters facially (no small ask considering all the characters are still recognisably fish) - is terrific and still holds up very well, even given Pixar's constant boundary pushing in the decade(!) since the film's original release. The 3D isn't really noticeable in all honesty so, given the damage the process seems to do to the vividness of the colours, I'd have rather seen it re-released in 2D. But don't let that put you off: like I say, It's barely noticeable - though that does call into question being asked to pay extra for the privilege...

Also, on a related note, the new 'Toy Story' short that precedes the film is really, really funny. Probably the best one yet - and a perfect antidote to 'Spring Breakers' (you'll know what I mean if you've seen it).