Greg Mclean’s follow up to Wolf Creek is much more than another belaboured creature feature. It is a wonderful exercise in well-crafted tension, avoiding the horror movie pitfalls of staid and superfluous splatter. The plot is simplicity itself but the direction and generally naturalistic performances keep it from falling into cliché. The initial gentle pacing leads to a genuinely thrilling middle act, with a truckload of tension-creating devices slowly exerting more and more pressure on the dwindling human snacks.
The practical effects are squeamishly impressive and a pulsing vein of pitch black humour provides expertly timed release between the thrills. As with Wolf Creek, Mclean captures the terrifyingly isolated beauty of Australia, with every insect intact and the sense of unrelenting heat truly palpable. Unfortunately, the final act disappoints – having neither the careful pacing nor the plausibility of the previous hour. This, combined with some slightly distracting creature CG, means Rogue is not quite a classic but it has a lot more to offer than the average Hollywood fare.
In Taken, Liam Neeson plays an overprotective father with a violent past whose paranoia is proven right when his daughter is snatched while on a trip to Paris. Mere hours later he is on the ground in the French capital, determined to find his daughter and punish those responsible. What follows is a haphazard series of fights, interrogations, car chases, more fights, several smashed windpipes and an ending totally at odds with the film which preceded it.
The action should have been harsh and brutal and while it is sometimes effective it is crippled by being framed too close and by the PG-13 rating. Who thought that a film dealing with violent revenge, dozens of deaths, torture and prostitution rings should be watched by people in their early teens?
Taken is all the more disappointing given the talent behind the camera. Luc Besson may not always come up with masterpieces when he’s credited as a writer, but he can usually be relied on to churn out something that is fast paced and fun (Unleashed, The Transporter, etc). Likewise the director, Pierre Morrell was last responsible for the ridiculous but exhilarating free running action of District 13. Yet together they have managed to come up with one of the most underwhelming action films in recent memory. As for Neeson, he handles the few emotional scenes with his usual impressive restraint and, with his size and reach, looks like he might actually pack quite a punch in real life. But when the action pulls out a little and he’s forced to run or throw himself through the air to avoid a hail of gunfire his 6’4” frame just looks unwieldy and slow – essentially a really big, easy to hit target. There are also endless moments where Neeson suddenly appears behind another nondescript soon-to-be-corpse which always made me wonder what magic massive closet he had found to hide himself in. He is fine when he’s hitting things and emoting but I think his career as an action star will be rather short lived.
I wanted to like Taken. It had potential as a gritty revenge film with the realistic action so popular since the advent of the Bourne series. Neeson is always a likeable lead and the Besson pedigree with the French setting should have worked in its’ favour. Unfortunately, the weakness of the story and random, unmotivated nature of the violence is simply boring, the potential wasted. Taken also shoots itself in the foot with its choice of subject matter. By delving into the subject of kidnapping tourists for prostitution it appears as though initially Morrell and Besson have some moral lesson for their audience. It soon becomes clear that they were merely looking for a backdrop for the action and the ugly stereotyping of the Eastern European characters in the film is irresponsible, even for a film of this type. Also, for a film rated suitable for young people, the lessons imparted by the hero are less than reassuring – if something bad happens to someone you love you really have no option but to kill dozens of people mercilessly until you reach some kind of resolution. This is fundamentally at odds with the initial plot of the film, as Neeson is trying to leave his past behind in an attempt to reconnect with his teenaged daughter (played with vapid gawkiness by Maggie Grace – proving her vacuous performance in Lost was not an accident). I’m not suggesting every film should have a blatant message of peace and love and there’s no denying that nihilism can be cool but when it is taken to this level it has an effect on the overall coherence of the film.
Disappointing and bland, if this film was kidnapped in a foreign country I’d leave it there.
Postal is the latest movie from the much maligned German director Uwe Boll. It is, like every film he’s made since 2003's House of the Dead, based on a video game and, also like that film, has very little in common with its' source material. Postal follows a rather unique day in the life of a recently sacked factory worker (Zack Ward) who starts out at a job interview and ends up trying to save the human race. Along the way he is aided and thwarted (mostly the latter) by an eclectic mix, including: a bunch of bloodthirsty townsfolk, a cult comprised almost entirely of scantily clad models, terrorists, homicidal policemen, a dwarf who voices a popular (genital shaped) kids toy, Osama Bin Laden and … Uwe Boll! There is no real plot – the action proceeds from location to location seemingly on a whim as the Postal Dude’s day becomes more and more bizarre.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’ve been a champion of Boll’s work but, unlike most critics, I’ve actually watched most of his English language films rather than just jumping on the bandwagon and automatically deriding him. Most are mediocre, and some are stupefying awful (yes In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale, I’m looking at you) but the man is an industry unto himself and, until recently, was making a very healthy business out of it. With Postal, Boll has wisely returned to the openly ridiculous style of House of the Dead, while also turning the comedy dial up to 11. This, coupled with the complete disintegration of any sense of moral decency delivers what can most favourably be described as a unique film.
Boll gets many things wrong here, but the tone, while being his greatest liability, also manages to be his greatest strength. What works here works really well and the way the film unfolds is strangely mesmerising – you literally cannot guess what will happen next. Nothing is sacred and this approach is so all encompassing that he can’t help but hit the mark from time to time. The humour vacillates from quite effectively satirical to utterly tasteless. I would one day like to meet the people who find scatological gags funny. Actually I wouldn’t like to meet them but I would be willing to help sponser the creation of a gulag just for them. Occasionally, to its detriment, Postal crosses the line from tasteless to misanthropic – a moment involving a baby carriage and a fast moving truck comes to mind. However for the most part the content, while undoubtedly crude and misguided, is surprisingly good natured. No segment of society is particularly targeted and Boll’s willingness to make fun of himself (literally) is quite refreshing.
The performances are generally serviceable and sometimes effective. Ward does a good job with some difficult material and manages to strike a balance between playing the clown and the action hero. Verne Troyer is memorable in a bit part which manages to not be demeaning (despite the excessiveness of his eventual fate) and JK Simmons pops up in a strangely unobtrusive cameo. Boll has a reputation for making even talented actors seem terrible (Ray Liotta, get a new agent) but the cast here do a fine job. And even when they don’t, the ridiculousness of the plot and the lightness of the overall tone makes the film practically immune to criticism.
Postal is without a doubt Uwe Boll’s most accomplished movie to date. Some people would say that’s like the difference between doing a frontal lobotomy with a fork or a spoon but it doesn’t change the fact that it represents some maturation in his work. It is by no means a great film, nor by most standards a good one, but it has such boundless, manic energy that you can’t help but get caught up in it. The film is like a huge, mentally challenged, blood-soaked, foul-mouthed Labrador. With a gun. And nuclear weapons. If you are willing to give it a chance and get in the right mind-set (possibly some substance abuse might be helpful) then Postal is a bit of nonsensical fun.
It is also a film in which our hero uses a cat as a silencer.
Brad Anderson is one of those directors who everyone thinks they like until they look him up. Since getting attention with his creepy (but unsatisfying) Session 9 in 2001 his only feature of note was 2004's The Machinist - a movie which will always remain more famous for the extraordinary physical transformation of its star (Christian Bale) than its effectiveness as a creepy thriller. This is partly because Bale's emaciated form was genuinely mesmerising but mostly because the movie just isn't very good. So, after a few years directing TV episodes, Anderson had something to prove with his latest - Transsiberian.
I've never really thought of Emily Mortimer as a leading lady. She’s always seemed either hopelessly insipid or appears to be battling some unrecognisable accent and a cold at the same time. It may come as a surprise then to learn that she is one of the best things about Transsiberian but unfortunately that statement comes with a number of disappointing caveats. In the film Mortimer and a mis-cast, toupee sporting Woody Harrelson play a husband and wife heading home to the US after completing charity work in China. In a decision which screams ‘bad choice’ to the ever watchful audience, they forgo a simple flight home in favour of the famous 8000 km rail journey through the snowlocked Russian wastes. Hence the title of the film.
What results is billed as a twisty action thriller, with multilayered secrets and lies and the familiar device of a claustrophobic location surrounded by scenic wilderness. This may not sound particularly original but, done well, it could amount to an enjoyable few hours of escapism. And, in fairness to the film, it starts well – meandering slowly through the mystery laden landscape of character development, planting seeds of murky histories and maintaining a convincing sense of unease and displacement – 2 American tourists in the time warp of undeveloped Russia. Events occur in a fashion that makes sense, uncomfortable situations get steadily worse and, around the time Ben Kingsley shows up as a Russian detective, everything seems on a wonderfully dramatic collision course with the revelations of the final act.
But then the ‘twists’ begin. Not twists in the normal thriller sense of the word but closer to the M Night Shyamalan meaning ie: twists that spoil a perfectly watchable film. The final act of Transsiberian dispels any sense of tension and unease by blowing the films internal logic to smithereens. I’m not suggesting for a second that the follies here are on the level of the denouement of Signs (or the entirety of Lady in the Water), but they do manage to bring the films momentum to a halt. Both The Machinist and Session 9 had problems with their endings, Anderson seems to believe that if everything doesn’t reach an overedited fever pitch he isn’t doing his job correctly. This is a shame as the deliberate but inexorable pacing of the plot was one of the films strong points.
Ultimately, Transsiberian is a missed opportunity. Some good performances and impressive cinematography are not enough to smooth over the eccentricities of the final act. It cannot maintain the tension well enough to be a thriller but is too mild to fall into the category of suspense/horror. If it is a drama about the fate of foreigners abroad then why does it descend into near Outer Limits territory towards the ending? Brad Anderson may well have potential as a talented filmmaker but so long as he continues to make films which are only halfway effective he will remain in that halfway obscure list of directors-you-have-to-look-up-on-IMDB.
David Mamet has had a rather checkered history on the silver screen. As the man responsible for the screenplay of Glengarry Glen Ross and the director of minor classics like Heist he was rightly praised but rambling misfires like Edmond and the taut but slightly ridiculous Spartan have made his move from the theatre less than seamless. Mamet’s latest is Redbelt, for which he assumes writing and directing duties, and it is a mixed bag – indicative of his obvious talent as a storyteller but also his continued unease with the medium of film.
Redbelt tells the story of a martial arts teacher who, through a series of events, becomes embroiled in a morally bankrupt world where his way of life, his personal unwavering philosophy, is threatened. It is an archetypal story in many ways: the lone man with an unbreakable code, often associated with violence but somehow not corrupted by it. Archetypes in movies are necessary, they create shortcuts for the audience, allowing them to accept and understand characters and situations almost instantly. Problems arise when these shortcuts are also adopted by the filmmakers. In Redbelt, the main character is archetypal and nothing else. He is a cipher for the misunderstood hero; reacting to each situation in the most clichéd way imaginable. This would be forgivable if the lead were Steven Seagal or Jean-Claude VanDamme and if we were living in the 90’s but its not and we aren’t. As discerning movie-goers we demand a little more of our martial arts spiced character studies, and Mamet seems unable to deliver.
The worst part is that the movies faults are not that apparent. While the construction of the main character is undoubtedly flawed, Chiwetel Ejiofor's performance is simply mesmerising. He projects a palpable sense of restrained power and wisdom, and this is just the latest in a string of memorable roles. Let’s hope that it gets him the attention he deserves. Likewise the martial combat (when it happens) seems relatively fluid and real, at least by comparison with the stroboscopic editing of most contemporary action. The film is also nicely shot and peppered with a cast of impressive names. But technical competence and a single standout performance are not enough to save it film from its fate of curious mediocrity.
I was never a fan of Batman Begins (2005). It will forever remain in my mind as the comic book film where the hero escapes from the police during a chaotic chase scene by TURNING OFF HIS HEADLIGHTS! A ten tonne behemoth driving at 60 miles an hour changes lanes and disappears. How in the name of all that is good and mighty did that make the final cut of a major Hollywood movie. Add to this Christopher Nolan's uneasy approach to staging action - particularly in retaining a sense of geography during the fight scenes - and a less than thrilling denoument and I was left distinctly unimpressed. In fairness to the film, it was meticulously designed and the origin story was genuinely engaging but once Christian Bale donned the (rather humourous looking) suit and that hideous carcinogenic drag queen voice I swiftly lost interest. Batman Begins managed to steer the franchise well clear of the cringeworthy excesses of Batman and Robin (1997) but in doing so it went a little too far, and created the unthinkable - it made a comic book film rather boring.
With this in mind I approached The Dark Knight with mixed feelings. The hype machine has been revving away for almost a year, with the first teaser trailer appearing in late July 2007...
Needless to say it didn't do much to change my mind and Heath Ledgers performance of the Joker, taken out of context, seemed destined to be irritating rather than terrifying. Then, on the 22nd of January 2008 Heath Ledger was found unconscious in an apartment in New York. He died later that day. The press reaction was incredible, with the immediate call of suicide echoing around the world. For a time The Dark Knight was lost as the world mourned the passing of a great talent in an acting community which has few enough actors of any real depth.
Felon is a simple, familiar story of a man who is betrayed by the rule of law and finds himself alone in the microcosm of the prison system. The set up is simple but effective and the film is devoid of the usual forced theatrics of prison movies. The focus is not on a thrilling escape attempt or a courageous quest for redemption in the eyes of the law. Instead it is an intimate portrayal of the journey from being free to becoming an incarcerated, institutionalised felon. It is sometimes brutal and unflinching, occasionally pseudo-philosophical but always maintains a connection to the personal cost of a prison sentence.
Stephen Dorff and Val Kilmer head the cast, Dorff as the wronged man and Kilmer as an enigmatic lifer. The relationship is that of teacher and mentor, there is even a voice over with a montage, but the quality of the performances saves it from falling into overwrought cliché. Dorff proves that a slew of underwhelming roles sold him seriously short and Kilmer creates a compelling physicality and presence, despite his relatively limited screen time. To rate one performance over the other would detract from the impressive dynamic they create. The supporting cast are generally solid apart from Harold Perrineau, a man with no discernible acting talent who still turns up in all kinds of places. His character in Felon is supposed to be complex, gorged on power and alienated from his family but Perrineau simply can't pull it off. It is a shame in a film that does little else wrong.
The film was clearly made on a budget but the grainy, mostly hand-held camera work works well in this setting. The shooting style reminded me a lot of Narc (which can only be a good thing) in its low key approach and sometimes arresting imagery.
All things considered, Felon is a well made, impressively acted, tersely plotted drama which deserves to find an audience. It is better than many movies I've seen this year but can only be seen on limited release before being swiftly kicked to DVD where it will probably sink without a ripple in a sea of direct to video dross. If you find it wedged firmly between the latest Seagal pseudo action flick and some dodgy labelled classic that never was or will be, check it out. Its worth a look.
Max Payne was not the most obvious choice for another Hollywood attempt at reeling in the video game playing masses. Quite apart from the fact that the two games have barely half a story between them, it has been 5 years since the last game in the series, with no immediate signs of a return for the character. Regardless, I can't help but be a genuinely intrigued by this project, particularly after seeing the extremely well produced teaser trailer...
The action seems intense (despite confirmation that the desired rating is PG-13) and the production design and colour pallete really capture the mood of the games. In all honesty I was expecting a teaser which just showed Mark Wahlberg suspended in mid air firing a gun in super-slow motion, which seemed the limit of Hollywood's ability to interpret video games up to now. But the combination of the grim visuals and the symbolic use of demonic imagery has really caught my attention. So it really did its job well as a teaser!
Max Payne is set for release on the 17th of October in the US and UK and I, for one, am quite looking forward to it.
Is Wall-E Pixar's greatest film and, by extension, one of the greatest animated films in the history of cinema? The better question is, are these claims even meaningful in an arena as subjective as entertainment. You may love Cars (which I find unlikely) and I have a strange and lasting fondness for oft-ignored A Bug's Life but the use of hyperbole in critical reviews is, essentially, worthless. Rather we should deal in specifics; Wall-E is one of the most consistently entertaining and enjoyable movies I have seen this year. It is exceptionally animated, technically peerless and has a design aesthetic and attention to detail which would be the envy of most live action films. It also has its negative aspects. Some are common to many Pixar films - it is a little saccharine and, to my mind, the music score is a little lacking. Other issues are more or less unique to this film. I found the voice acting for the human characters a little weak and uninvolving (perhaps intentionally) and the plotting was quite one dimensional, despite supposedly dealing with some extremely complex themes (Centuries of isolation and that old Asimov chestnut of the evolution of robotkind).
I make these points merely to allow an element of realism into the proceedings, something which seems particularly relevant in a week where the Dark Knight is being heralded as the most super amazing awesome and exciting thing to ever flicker through mass consciousness. The hype is interesting and, no doubt, commercially important but after those first few weeks it becomes irrelevant. The real test of a films quality is whether people will continue to watch it in the future, whether it stands the test of time.
Is it smaltzy? Yes, but nowhere near as saccharine as the low points of Finding Nemo.
Is it funny? Yes, it beats misfires like Cars hands down and approaches the rapid fire success of Toy Story 2.
Is it surprisingly dark? Yes, but in the good way that The Incredibles did so well.
In these ways and many others Wall-E is emblematic of Pixar’s ability to learn from its mistakes, expand on its successes and highlights their maturation into one of the most deservedly successful movie studios in the world. I for one would love to see Pixar drop the ‘message’ and the constant reach for a g rating (in this way The Incredibles, with its PG rating, was a step forward) but that may just be my selfishness. I don’t want to share these films with anyone else. Sitting in a darkened cinema, I realized that what they managed to achieve is far more impressive. Several hundred people – from six to sixty - were entertained and enthralled for a full 90 minutes. There are very few recent movies, very few movies ever made, that can make the same claim…
P.S. The Presto short at the beginning is rather excellent too. A suberbly animated and insanely energetic tex avery style short. Enjoy
:)
Wall-E's introduction was one of the best teaser trailers in recent memory.
Tonight He Comes (Hancocks original, rather humourous, title) is one of the best unproduced scripts floating around Hollywood. And it should have stayed that way.
Hancock is a superhero film with a difference. The (genuinely clever) conceit is that the protagonist is an amnesia stricken, homeless, mannerless, alchoholic superman clone who is drawn to help people but often manages to cause more damage than he avoids. With personal property damage in his adopted town of Los Angeles spiralling into the tens of millions, Hancock is more of a liability than a defender of 'Truth, Justice and the American Way'. This neat inversion on the standard story works very well, at least for the first act.
Will Smith, as the titular character, flies around drunk, crashes into buildings, destroys fleets of police cars, derails a train and abuses the locals – all in the first 10 minutes. This serves to introduce the initial plot of the movie:Hancock is, according to our definitions, a superhero but he is more or less hated by the regular inhabitants of the city. This is an interesting perspective on the superhero character (though not entirely unique – Spiderman for example has a long history of being presented as martyr and menace) but it is dropped into our laps far too quickly. There is no sense of how this world functions, how day to day life continues with a super strong, inebriated idiot roaming the skies. He has lived in the city for years, so where is the damage? What encouragement is there for us to believe in this world? Yes I know it’s a superhero movie, disbelief is part of the contract between the filmmakers and the audience, but we still need to be enveloped by the internal, fictional reality of a movie world.
The whole film is stricken with a kind of PG-13 Tourette’s. The populace of Las Angeles seem intent on being rude but their lexicon of bad language is less well developed than the average six year old. I understand that it is partly a rating issue (the one use of the f-bomb here is relatively effective in the offhand way its tossed out) but surely someone could have thought of a number of less offensive swear words? I’ve never heard the word asshole used so many times, and to so little effect. It makes Smiths reaction to the word all the more laughable and unmotivated. He should be responding to the hate of the public, not to a particular word and placing the focus of his rage on a couple of syllables is just another example of the films lack of depth.
whats worse is I really thought this trailer had promise...
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