A Review of Watchmen

Everyone Watches the Watchmen...



The opening minutes of Zack Snyder’s Watchmen are cinematically perfect; starting with an intimate and brutal murder and moving seamlessly into one of the best credit sequences in recent memory. Accompanied by Bob Dylan’s The Times They Are A-Changin’ – it showcases a visual and audio collage of events which are significant in the Watchmen universe, told with meticulous attention to detail and providing a peerless introduction to this very different world. As it traces the history from the Minutemen to the Watchmen it captures exactly the right mix of nostalgia and curiousity which will be needed to nourish the viewer through this epic film, while also giving them vital information in a way that is both clear and visually exciting. Then the famous blood-stained smiley face re-appears and we meld with the narrative and Rorschach’s first piece of gravelly narration.
The opening of Watchmen shows how film can be used to represent material from another media in a more efficient and accessible way. It also makes it clear from the first frames that the filmmakers are dedicated to not just making a solid adaptation of a wonderful story but also to using all the resources in their movie-making arsenal to also make the best film they can, with all the requisite concessions to accessibility which are required in a forum that will be seen by millions of people. As such, it should be taken on its own merits, as separate from the source as possible.
Watchmen starts with The Comedian – a long standing costumed hero turned government sanctioned killer whose death sets in motion a series of events which threatens to bring the world to the brink of nuclear holocaust. If the death of The Comedian is the inciting incident, Rorschach is the stories’ twisted guiding light, the oxymoron of a narrator who is possibly insane. He drives the investigation and it is he who reunites the Watchmen as they are galvanised into action by his paranoia. There will be no spoilers here but the tale which unravels is agreeably dark and tangled and filled with the kinds of motivations and events which would be anathema to any other superhero film.
What sets Watchmen apart is its’ characters. Although the costumes may be familiar enough, underneath lies a group of flawed and realistic human beings. They are drawn to a clandestine world for a variety of reasons and find it hard, if not impossible, to adjust once their activities are outlawed. The incorruptible but over-zealous Rorschach, the fearful Nite Owl and the conflicted Dr. Manhattan shine on the screen, with all their complex motivations and excuses given time to breathe, even in a large ensemble cast. The performances are generally excellent, with most of the cast managing to distinguish themselves despite the very real threat of being overpowered by design, effects and costumes. Jackie Earle Hayley gives a great presence to the character of Rorschach but it is Patrick Wilson who most clearly captures the realities of his role. Beaten down by life and unable to explain why he is drawn to the superhero fold, Nite Owl’s conflicts are dealt with carefully in a less obviously showy role. Billy Crudup is doubly handicapped by being rendered totally in CG and speaking in a controlled monotone but still brings a certain amount of pathos to Dr. Manhattan and Jeffrey Dean Morgan manages to make The Comedian the perfect melding of monster and realist. The only weakness in the performances lies with the female characters. In a film which would have benefitted from some strong female presence, neither Carla Gugino nor Malin Ackerman are up to the task – seeming distracted and unsure of the material.
Ackerman may not give the best account of herself in the dramatic sections but her commitment to the action scenes is total. Watchmen has some of the best action sequences ever filmed, with none of the over-cutting, hyper edited nonsense which we have come to expect from recent cinema. From the opening murder, to a jail break and even an attempted assassination, Snyder’s eye for camera angle and the effective use of slow motion is simply stunning. The fight choreography is superb, with each of the actors seeming like they could not just handle themselves in a fight but likely kill everyone in the room without breaking a sweat. The fight scenes in Watchmen are rough, rarely does a criminal escape with all his limbs intact, and the gore is effective and generally more restrained than that in 300 – although a few moments move from explicit into almost comical. Coverage and a consistent sense of geography are excellent, a necessity which many directors seem to have forgotten. Snyder expands on the action in the comic but these moments never feel as though they have been added just to create great trailer shots. With this and 300, he is truly one of the best action directors around but this film also proves, more importantly, that he can handle drama as well.
Watchmen is a sumptuous, visceral, immaculately created piece of entertainment. At 163 minutes it is never boring with dramatic sections well acted enough to be interesting, constantly fascinating design and action sequences which are tough and harsh and genuinely exciting. The camerawork is wonderful, with a constantly shifting array of dark shades and shadows creating many memorable images. The score, again by Tyler Bates, is mostly subtle and effective – rising into some perhaps ill-advised choral moments towards the end. The licensed songs are another matter entirely. Some work extremely well, like the above mentioned Dylan song but others are less effective and bring the tone dangerously close to parody at times – an odd cover of Leonard Cohens’ Hallelujah during a (slightly preposterous) love scene and the use of All Along the Watchtower spring to mind. The sound design is meaty, with gun shots and bone-snapping filling the cinema delightfully. On a side note, fans may want to know about the ending; it is handled well considering the time constraints but lacks the power and interconnectedness of the original.
Let’s get this out of the way – Watchmen is not as good as the graphic novel but that does not stop it from being one of the most mature and unique movies of the last few years. Snyder and his team have superbly realised a world that is both alien and familiar, with a host of recognisable 80s items and references melding completely with the paraphernalia of the Watchmen universe. As an adaptation it is a worthy attempt but as a film in its own right it is literally without peer, delivering a dark, dense tale of murder, betrayal and moments of the miraculous in the face of total annihilation.

A Review of Let the Right One In

'How old are you?'
'Twelve... more or less'


Let the Right One In (or Låt den rätte komma in the original Swedish) is an unusual coming of age drama set in snowbound Stockholm in the early 1980s. It tells the story of a boy on the razors edge of puberty and the trials of trying to rip a nascent adult from the restrictive cocoon of childhood.
Oskar is a typical movie pre-adolescent – he doesn’t really fit in at school and is perpetually bullied by his cruel peers, whose attacks are casually brutal in the awful way children can be. Oskar’s life is further complicated by the separation of his parents; he splits his time between living with his mother in the city and the countryside haven belonging to his father. Increasingly frustrated by his life, Oskar has taken to carrying a knife and seems on the edge of violent reprisal. Then a mysterious young girl moves in next door and Oskar’s world is forever altered.
So much of Let the Right One In conforms to the standard rules of the pre-teen, coming of age genre. The broken home, the bullying and, most specifically, the mix of curiousity and burgeoning sexuality which defines those initial interactions with a member of the opposite sex. Eli is a mystery to Oskar, a truism only heightened by the strange life she lives – not attending school and living with a man who is old enough to be her father but who she never obeys. Her habits are not kept a secret from the audience, but the filmmakers are smart enough to not define her merely by her needs. As the two young, isolated people grow closer together, we hope for a happy resolution, even though we know how unlikely it will be.
Despite its genre trappings, Let the Right One In never becomes a horror film. It has horrific moments and it is certainly not for children but the director, Thomas Alfredson, never forgets that his film is a drama and that the relationship of the children is the most important element of the piece. Combining themes of endless childhood, subsumed sexuality, casual violence and mesmerising performances from the 2 young leads, Let the Right One In is far more than the sum of its stereotypical parts. A sweet story of young love, with violent embellishments, wonderful effects and a healthy dose of the macabre – it is a gem in the increasingly stagnant horror movie genre.

A Review of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is David Fincher's follow up to the underrated minor masterpiece that was 2007's Zodiac. Here, Fincher reunites with his Seven and Fight Club headliner Brad Pitt, to deliver a very different kind of film.
The film deals with the life and times of the title character, a person born with the features and infirmities of a man in his 80's who gradually grows younger in appearance over time. Those who have summarised the film as being about a person who ages backwards have missed one of the fundamental points of Benjamin Button – namely that his miraculous reversal of the aging process is only on the surface. The film is also misleading in the way it deals with the central character. Fincher uses a number of methods to avoid answering any real questions about the man. The central conceit is a journal which Button has left for his lifetime love – Daisy (played by Cate Blanchett). But it reveals next to nothing about the man, a fact reinforced by the moment Daisy asks him what it is like to age backwards and his only reply is that he doesn't know – he is always seeing things through his own eyes. This issue of perspective also has an effect on the film. By not committing to any explanation or examination of the motivations behind the character, the film misses out on what could have been its best feature. The admirable detached objectivity which Fincher used so liberally in Zodiac seems to have bled over into his next project and, with a title like Benjamin Button, a little emotional involvement was not just important but absolutely essential.
Still, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is a well made film. Pitt makes an engaging lead, though as he grows younger he seems to become like a more and more distilled version of Brad Pitt than a younger Button. Blanchett is rather cold and, in her geriatric and much made up form, practically insufferable. Indeed, most of the characters are rather difficult to like – motivated mostly by selfishness without a thought for the repercussions of their actions. Such realistically complex characters simply do not belong in a movie which should only conform to fairytale logic. Only Taraji P. Henson (as Button's adoptive mother) seems to realise the type of film she is in and her warm and unrestrained performance is the only real heart of the film.
The rather cold tone is all the more strange considering that the story was adapted (from the original by F. Scott Fitzgerald) by Eric Roth – most famous for the smaltz and sentimentality smorgasbord that was Forrest Gump. The script is embellished by a dozen fanciful inventions which are straight from the Gump universe – from a (clearly symbolic) clock which runs backwards to the broadly drawn caricatures which populate Button's first job on a boat. And yet the movie's heart is barely beating, managing only a few emotionally charged moments in its nearly 3 hour running time.
Technically, there are no such disappointments with Benjamin Button. The design and camerawork are sublime, managing to evoke each distinct period perfectly. The score is subtly haunting and adds to the experience without being overpowering. The much vaunted special effects are very special indeed – with the many faces of Brad Pitt genuinely impressive.
In short, every individual department did an excellent job in the creation of Benjamin Button but some vital element was missing. Perhaps Fincher wasn't ready for a fairytale, there are certainly intimations here of a much darker tale lurking just beneath the surface. Without a doubt he is a talented director but some casting mis-steps and a not quite solid grasp of the fundamental point of the proceedings have left the movie weaker than it should have been. There was so much scope here for an examination of life through the eyes of an alien, one with a unique perspective and the apparent key to the fountain of youth. The ravages of age bearing down on the increasingly youthful looking Button are some of the most poignant moments in the film but they flit by in moments, mixed in with Daisy's underwhelming parallel story.
You may think I have been overly harsh on The Curious Case of Benjamin Button but that is only because I saw the possibility of something truly special from a director with obvious talent for complex stories. Perhaps making an enchanting, enduring fairytale was simply beyond even his copious abilities.

A review of The Wrestler (2008)

The Wrestler is without a doubt Darren Aronofskys most straightforward film to date and proves that he has the talent to handle a wide range of genres and styles, a skill which David Fincher may not have in light of his uneven Benjamin Button. Here, Mickey Rourke plays an aging professional wrestler who is lost in some no man's land between his 80's hey day and the realities of his bruised and broken 21st century self. After a brutal bout, The Ram's body betrays him and he ends up alone and battered by life, trying to recover from a heart attack. Unable to compete in the ring and alienated from everyone around him, he reaches out to a sympathetic stripper (Marisa Tomei) and makes a last attempt to connect with his estranged daughter (Evan Rachel Wood). The Ram is approached for a high profile rematch with a former foe and he must choose between a potentially fatal return to the ring and the tiny, nascent possibility of a real life which he has carved out for himself.

Much has been made of the parallels between Rourke and The Ram but making that connection takes away from the sterling work by Rourke. He inhabits the character totally – no doubt helped by his increasingly bizzare features (he underwent reconstructive surgery after a short lived boxing career) but also bringing a strange naïve sweetness to a difficult role. For The Ram, it is life outside of the ring that is hard, the everyday is not subject to the rules and controls which exist in a wrestling match. And, most telling of all, you always know who is going to win in a wrestling match – in real life it is never certain. Even when Randy's life is going well, there is always a sense of fatalism, the sense that he cannot allow himself to succeed because he is too afraid of not knowing what will happen next.

Alongside Rourke, Tomei gives a good performance, although she is far too attractive for the role of a forgotten stripper. Seeing the two of them together comes across as aspirational rather than real, an anomaly in an otherwise naturalistic film. Likewise, Rourke's relationship with his daughter, though heartfelt, is spiked with too much cliché to be truly engaging. She is the hate-filled daughter who grew up without a father while he plays the immature, absentee dad who lost his way in a multitude of character flaws. These elements weaken the film to some extent but are generally forgivable – especially in light of the fact that Wood features in some of Rourke's strongest scenes and she holds her own very well for such a young actor.

One of The Wrestler's greatest assets is its camerawork by Maryse Alberti. Fluid and almost documentary style, it also manages to be a commentary on theme and character. Often when Rourke is walking to a new location, the camera follows close behind, hand-held. This deliberately apes that oft-used shot of a fighter on the way to the ring, enhanced by the claustrophobic corridors he walks down, mirroring those underneath a stadium. This connection is made literal as Rourke walks in one long take to the deli counter, with crowd noises on the soundtrack. Rourke literally treats every moment as though he were on the way to the ring, and this is another subtle indication of his inherent immaturity and fear of reality. When faced with another life, he retreats – even going so far as working in the same dead end job for fear of being forced to grow up. Rourke's man child is pathetic, selfish and broken but in the ring he is loved, adored and lauded for not growing up. It is an escape for the character and not fundamentally different from the many ways in which we all escape from responsibility and the vicissitudes of reality.

The Wrestler is a strong and simple film about a deeply flawed and powerfully sympathetic character. Rourke's performance is mesmerisng and his envelopment in the character complete. As the film ends and Bruce Springsteen's 'The Wrestler' plays over the credits we cant help but wish that things could have worked out better for The Ram but the fact is, outside of the ring, no one ever knows who is going to win.