Film

4th film review: 30/10/11



Golden Eye - Martin Campbell (1995)


Bum Sex

Obviously everyone has already seen this film, but it’s so good that you need to see it again, now. I don’t even like James Bond films, but this is quite simply amazing. It starts with a bungee jump, then Shaun Bean, then a porno music soundtrack for a car chase. That’s already Oscar material. Then there’s poker and at least 7 sexual innuendos (question: can you have an innuendo that isn’t sexual? I erect to disagree. Oh come on (like sex) let’s not over do it (do it like sex)). That’s enough (sex)). They’re way more subtle than in most other James Bond films, such as Tomorrow Never Dies where one of the Bond  Girls says ‘if you get my point’, whilst licking the tip of a sword, and all the better for it. 

They even diss America, way before it was cool: ‘unlike the American Government we prefer not to get our bad news from CNN’, pap pap pap. There is also the line ‘in 48 hours you and I will have more money than God’ which is up there with Wilde et al. It even ties up loose ends, eg the girl at the beginning is an ex-pilot, and that’s why she can fly a helicopter, but it’s still really kitsch at the same time, so literally everyone is happy, literally.

It also has two of the hottest bond girls ever, which by the way is definitely a legitimate way of judging the film as that is part of the attraction of any James Bond film, which clearly and unequivocally means I’m not sexist. It also has Judi Dench, who is about as attractive as your mum is to you, who verbally kicks the shit out of Bond and reclaims a modicum of sexual equality for the film, of course more ostensibly than anything, but at least they’re trying. 

There is also a completely inexplicable cameo appearance by Mini Driver, appearing for approximately 3 seconds as a showgirl, in the same scene as you meet Robbie Coltrane pretending to be Russian. Bond also drives through St Petersburg in a tank. Normally a film review doesn’t revolve around just telling people what happens in every scene, but this film is so good that this is actually technically the best way to review it. 

Maybe the fact that every scene seems to be a classic is because they’re all also classic levels on the N64 game, but those missions are only classic because the film is so good. It’s the classic chicken and egg dilemma, and no one ever solved that one, so I’m not about to try.

There are flaws, like when, in order to escape death, Bond just has to headbutt a red button next to his head that says 'eject', but generally the action is sufficiently believable and high octane to boot. More significantly the action does trail off towards the end, but is saved from petering out by a kickass concluding fight scene with Sean Bean, so there’s pretty much nothing to complain about, and lots to be very, very excited about.

Guest film review: 30/10/11

Watership Down (1978)

It can’t be cheese if it came from a rabbit

Harpoon the pudding man warned me about the rabbits. “They give it large with their boiler suits and British Gas ID badges” he’d cry, “and before you know it they’ve eaten your kids”. A Buck’s need for blood frightens me, but I keep my head down and try not to be noticed. My Nana can’t stand them; caught one of them raping a cat around Agga Irene’s place, in the Tower Hamlets. Swore she could hear the rabbit laughing. I can remember when I knew all my neighbours by their first names:   Jen moved out of next door after Cliff died, Pancake Joe is still next-door-but-one and Marmite Maggie hasn’t been seen since she had that BBQ in May.  I made a big effort when Burdock and Duckweed moved in to 38, babysat their kids, looked after their dog, but the noise was unbearable.   Their youngest Nightshade posted dog mess through my letter box. The police did nothing. They own the streets, they do what they want, and now I’m afraid to leave my flat.

Watership Down twists the stereotype and portrays society’s underclass as the victim of the piece. The director, Martin Rosen, introduces us to a small, law abiding community, who have lived for generations out of harm’s way in a ditch just south of Basingstoke, Hampshire.  Annexed from their warren by a Barratt Homes residential project, our apparent heroes uproot and seek out new pastures on somebody else’s land. So begins 90 minutes of the most unintelligent, incredible tripe I have ever seen in my life. The main players would not look out of place in the green room of the Jeremy Kyle show.  Hazel, the ring leader, drags his team of misfits from one car crash to another.  Breaking and entering seems to be a way of life, criminal damage also acceptable and the treatment of innocent animals is appalling.  At one low point a seagull is goaded into forcing his own beak up his anus. 

It is impossible to empathise with the rabbit’s plight and I found myself hoping that rather than watching them relocated into comfortable and undeserved council property, they would scamper off to Dover with one way ferry tickets. It’s not all doom, gloom and fantasy, there are some uplifting moments: the choking ex-Owsla officer Bigwig spitting out blood after running into a snare; the ripped ears of the feeble Blackavar; and my personal highpoint, the climactic scene when a dog tears into an army of rabbits just for the hell of it, swallowing the main antagonist, General Woundwort, in one.  It is due to these scenes that the film scrapes 1 out of 10.

I can only imagine that Watership Down has been made to glamorise the ASBO culture rather than explain the reasons behind it.  It is the British “Boys in the Hood”, the Hampshire “New Jack City”.  It is crass and undeserving of the “family classic” label which has been pasted on the films poster.  The film serves no purpose other than to recruit the delusional and continue the spread of this anti-social disease.  Oh and don’t bother reading the Richard Adams book, it’s full of shit.

3rd film review: 21/08/11

Gattaca – Andrew Nichol (1997)

For the world is hollow and I have touched the sky.

What a shame. This has the makings of a great film, but is totally and utterly ruined by too many plot gaffs and pretentious one-liners.

The film is set up promisingly, aesthetically perfect in the creation of a future dystopia where developments in pregnancy screening have led to the creation of a human super-species. Through a subtle mixture of clean, bold lines in the forefront, on softer creamy backdrops, Nichol creates that rare thing of an instantly comfortable viewing experience: slow and patient camera shots, perfectly sparse dialogue and a smooth classical score – you just want to crawl inside the screen. He ticks all of the sci-fi dystopia boxes perfectly, eg retro-futuristic machinery and monochrome, uniformed figures everywhere. Again, there’s nothing new here but if you like that sort of thing, you’re all set up. 

And then, gradually, as the film unravels, so do the seams of its credibility. Too many scenes end with a pithy quip or a supposedly deep yet vapid aphorism, before you just can’t be bothered any more. When Hawke, a child born through natural means, inexplicably defeats his vastly genetically superior brother, we’re willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. Unfortunately, the whole clumsy moral of the film is revealed in this instant, twenty minutes in, (you guessed it, humanity will always triumph in adversity, even against beings who are superior to them in every way and, crucially, human to all relevant intents and purposes) and we spend the rest of the film watching Jude Law and Ethan Hawke tossing each other off, or something like that. The amount of holes in the plot really are ridiculous, to name a few: it relies on Ethan Hawke bearing even a passing resemblance to Jude Law which is fucking stupid, just ask yourself who you’d prefer to look like/go to bed with; it relies on the fact that the whole of society has forgotten about the use of photographs in identifying someone, which makes no sense in the context of  the detective investigation which provides the backbone of the plot; it relies on Uma Thurman being some sort of amnesiac nympho who only seems to understand the consequences of a given plot twist when she is told for a second time, and so on.

The whole thing is just a bit silly and it’s got one of the worst last lines of any film I’ve ever seen, which I won’t spoil for you. Basically, the distance between this line's intended impact and actuality is dizzying, as it attempts not only to philosophise on the issues touched on within the film but also to show how these considerations are so very small in comparison to an even bigger question. Instead we just get Ethan Hawke squinting awkwardly as his own jizz spatters into his face while he tries not to cry, or something like that. 

2nd film review: 10/08/11

Vicky Cristian Barcelona – Woody Allen (2008)

Bum sex, any kind

Who’d have thought a film with such a shit title would be so brilliant. Such is the coherence of the film’s plot (the film’s everything), even the title justifies itself as perfectly apt by the end. As it suggests, we are given a window into the emotional life of two women, generic enough in character to speak to women (as well as men) across the emotional spectrum, yet simultaneously depicted as believable individuals. Only Allen could strike this balance so perfectly, wryly hinting at the similarities we all share, which, all the same, don’t help in making us feel any less isolated.

Whilst Allen is the star of the show, all of the leads put in rich and convincing performances. It is actually Penelope Cruz however, the actor [ I got told ages ago that due to sexuality equality reasons this was now the PC word for ‘actress’, does that mean we should call policewomen ‘policemen’?] of whom we see the least, who comes closest to eclipsing the director. She sachets onto the screen in a flurry of sultriness and sex appeal, brooding then exploding intermittently in fits of Iberian passion,. She gives an utterly convincing portrayal (as all the actors do, just more so) to give an entirely personal feel to a potentially clichéd character (the arty, sophisticated and overly-emotional European – that’s basically how Americans see us, I promise). It is her raw emotion that really ignites the film, which leads up to her entrance in a mesmerising web of sexual intrigue and fantasy.

Why Allen chose to give the film a cheesy, 80’s American Sitcom voiceover (think the Wonder Years)I don’t know, but it works brilliantly. It prevents the film from taking itself too seriously , and adds to Allen’s persistent reaffirmation, that life, no matter how serious it can seem at times, is really not so serious after all. Indeed, the plot is slightly absurd, but remains comfortably within the realms of believability (because life is itself absurd bla bla...) and this is Allen’s greatest trick in the movie. There is no time spent laboriously over-explaining plot twists and turns, events follow naturally on from one another, aided by the smooth-flowing Spanish guitar which bridges every scene, resulting in a marvellous lightness of touch. It is remarkable that such a film never slides into self-indulgence, dealing with the boggy theme of love, but the film races by in 96 minutes. More amazingly still, whilst you wouldn’t call it a resolution, everything is neatly tied up by the end, and we are brought to a conclusion we should (or probably did in your case) have probably known we would be reaching the whole time; that is, the only viable one.

Put it this way, if this film had have been released in 1977, I would have begrudged it acclaim a whole lot less than I did Annie Hall (which let’s be honest, had no fucking right to beat Star Wars), and from a personal standpoint, I can’t give higher praise than that.

1st film review: 26/07/11

Gran Torino – Clint Eastwood (2008)

Social Commentary, Black Comedy (?)

I am neither disappointed nor happy, but feel slight resentment for consequently being reminded of the numbness of existence

I have read so many good things about Clint Eastwood as a director, mainly in the form of award recognition, that I thought it was really about time to actually watch one of his films. If this film is anything to go by, all of the other films he’s directed don’t deserve awards, but that’s possibly the worst line of reasoning I have ever considered taking.

Anyway, ignoring that pointless introduction, the film has a lot of things going for it, but is packed with too many downsides to leave you thinking anything other than ‘that film would have been good if it weren’t for all the downsides’. The basic plot sets Eastwood up as a grumpy post-war veteran who can’t get to grip with modern America, riddled with immigrants and material youth as it is. That’s not to say he’s into the spiritual side of life either, indeed, Eastwood finds such ‘superstition’ the most annoying thing of all. In short, he’s a very disgruntled old man who preferred things in his day, or maybe he just didn’t like any days, he’s pissed off anyway.

The aforementioned aspects of life as we know it are then portrayed to us through this rather one-dimensional perspective, and therein lies the central flaw of the film. The protagonist does not get along with his family, and concordantly they are pictured as exclusively self-interested (his grand-daughter asks him what he’s going to do with his prize asset (the eponymous 1972 Gran Torino) when he, like, dies and stuff. His far-Eastern neighbours are presented in a slightly more rounded manner and we are made to understand the radical cultural differences they bring to America in a straightforward and unpretentious manner. However, the young Thai girl and boy who serve as a bridge between Eastwood and this community spoil any credibility of such a relationship because, rather importantly, neither of them can act. Considering that they are both central to the plot of the film, namely one bigoted old man’s personal salvation through being able to see the humanity that overrides our superficial differences, this spoils the film. Regardless of the acting, the process by which Eastwood’s relationship with these people softens is incredible and seems a little rushed, for which the film has no excuse with a running time of nearly two hours.

Eastwood, although entertaining throughout, lacks the subtlety to give his character the hidden depths which would elevate him above stereotype. The script itself fairs no better: kids are bratty, gangs like shooting stuff, old foreign women are weird. For this reason, the film would serve better as an outright black comedy rather than a solemn social commentary, and is at its best in its lighthearted moments. Eastwood is always amusing, coming out with some superb racial slurs (I would list them but the fact I think they’re good probably indicates that they satisfy my racial preconceptions, so I’d best leave them out) and growling like some distrusting dog. The film also benefits from a strong ending, knowingly not descending into farce when it seems to have been leading that way for quite some time. So, I actually didn’t mind watching the film as it focuses almost entirely on Eastwood who is always entertaining, but the film seeks to do a lot more than this and I’m pretty sure I was laughing at some points which weren’t supposed to be funny. Oh and also the character of the priest as well as the actor who plays him is just totally fucking stupid; he seems to be involved in every issue, even stopping in to comfort the pagan Asian family. Sorry mate I don’t think they’re in your diocese. There are also several attempts to make us think, ‘hey, this priest is just a normal guy too’ but all that ends up happening is we think he’s wet and annoying and ginger.