On Discovering Valhalla Rising

In Scandinavian mythology, Valhalla is a vast hall in which great warriors, the chosen dead are sent. In Nicolas Winding Refn’s latest film a great Scandinavian warrior has risen from Valhalla. This is the story of One-Eye, a mute prisoner of a Scottish clan, forced to fight while tied to a rope. This doesn’t stop One-Eye from brutally killing anyone who is put before him. With the threat of conquering Christian extremists, another clan offers money for One-Eye. Money that can be used to ward off a Christian massacre. One-Eye escapes his new captors, adopts a young boy and becomes a member of a band of Christian warriors on their way to Jerusalem to defend the Holy Land. This is Valhalla Rising.

Not deemed marketable enough to get a UK theatrical release, Valhalla Rising went straight to DVD. Not a sign of poor quality. Summer is a crowded marketplace and a small, violent film with a mute protagonist would struggle to find a profitable audience. Yet, there is always an audience to be found. It seems however that the powers that be behind Valhalla Rising decided that a deceptive DVD cover would offer the better chance of an audience and a profit. Hopefully this will be the case as there is much to admire in Refn’s symbolic film.

The story is minimal and characters are defined through the beautifully shot and savage landscape. As for One-Eye we are told, “He is driven by hate. It’s how he survives. It’s why he never loses” and this is enough. Mads Mikkelsen’s performance as One-Eye combined with the brevity of his back story creates a memorable character. One-Eye’s looks of disinterest at the Christian preaching and his protection of the boy give him recognisable traits even if his motives and conclusion are never clear. Symbolism takes centre stage over narration and while this may prove frustrating for some viewers, sticking with Refn’s film is a strangely satisfying experience.

On the Issue of Sequels with Aliens

When taking on the task of creating a sequel to the revered science fiction film Alien (1979), James Cameron ran a risk greater than many directors of sequels as here he was not the director of the first.

In 1979 Ridley Scott created a gritty, unpolished and tense horror. There is little comedy aboard the Nostromo and Scott drew subtle, believable performances from his cast. This is a director’s vision, very much a product of the 1970s mentality. In 1986 Cameron gave us a sequel very much of its time, Aliens, a bigger budget studio picture.

However, by being aware of what made Alien great and by expanding the universe and the characters in a realistic direction, Aliens avoids the same, almost expected fate that we assume most sequels will take. Cameron definitely created a more stereotypical Hollywood action film. The banter between the marines has dated badly and even the performance of Sigourney Weaver is more melodramatic than in Alien.

Aliens is bigger and more expensive with a larger cast, but by taking into account what the audience have learnt from Alien we are never confused, unlike the bigger, more expensive Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen (2009), which felt as if it had been created without even the awareness of Transformers (2007). Unlike The Lost World (1997) or Die Hard 2: Die Hard (1990), Cameron consciously steps away from what Alien accomplished and doesn’t retrace familiar steps. It would have been futile to produce another claustrophobic horror along the same lines, especially as Aliens continues – as far as Ripley is concerned – from where Alien left off.

Yet, a sequel doesn’t have to go bigger to be better. The Bourne Supremacy (2004) was a toned down, more talkative and more successful follow up to The Bourne Identity (2002). In the other direction and along the same lines of Aliens, The Dark Knight (2008) expands the world created in Batman Begins (2005) with greater exploration that allows us to remain familiar with the world, but find enough in there that is new to stay interested. What makes Aliens perhaps more impressive than other sequels that are better or as good as their predecessors is that Cameron was not the director of the first.

The issues of sequels will always create debate. The first in a sequence is often viewed favourably and the majority of the time sequels are unable to create or even recreate the formula that worked the first time round. When they do work though, is will be because they have followed the same basic rules that Cameron employed with Aliens.

On Dirty Cops in The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans

David Lynch once referred to Nicholas Cage as, “the jazz musician of actors”; capricious in his behaviour, unpredictable in his choice of work. Werner Herzog’s The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans therefore fits perfectly into the Cage canon. The origin’s of Cage’s dirty cop, McDonagh, are slightly blurred by the insistence of Herzog that he was unfamiliar with Abel Ferrara’s Bad Lieutenant (1992), in which Harvey Keitel turned in a crazed and hypnotic performance. Yet there are too many similarities (the title being just one) to suggest this is the case, and while cinema history is replete with dirty cops, it seems likely that Herzog’s film, while not a remake, is certainly influenced more by Ferrara’s interpretation than any other.

Through their behaviour, corrupt police often draw laughs, whether it’s The Wire’s McNulty inventing a serial killer for overtime or Ray Liotta’s Henry Oak in Narc, after an informant asks for a hit during questioning stating, “It’s impossible you’re this dumb”. Yet these are serious characters in situations and environments that are drawn realistically and carry serious weight in their stories. To its discredit, The Bad Lieutenant and Cage’s performance are played for laughs. Subsequently, the story of a family executed by a drug lord is merely a tool to allow Cage’s performance to progress and Herzog’s camera to explore and add to the hyperbole of the acting. McDonagh is without doubt a dirty cop; he steals drugs like it’s a second job; he gambles; he accepts sexual favours for leniency and, perhaps at his most despicable, he cuts off the air supply for a wheelchair bound old lady before declaring she is what is wrong with America. Cage pulls all this off with a crooked style and is mostly believable in the role. He has an incredible ability to switch instantly between crazed unpredictability, tenderness (the silver spoon scenes) and desperation. Yet the direction to play this as a comedic character lets him down and never allows him or us to really get under the skin of McDonagh. The performance is too big, too distracting to allow us to attach ourselves to McDonagh on any relatable level. Neither is this such a departure for Cage that we are convincingly with the character at all times. He played a similar character better in Scorsese’s Bringing out the Dead (1999) and has been far more memorable in Leaving Las Vegas (1995) and Adaptation (2002).

Herzog’s past films suggest an interest in larger than life characters that are altered by or change their environments. His documentaries including, Encounters at the End of the World (2007) and Grizzly Man (2005) show characters that come alive through their interaction with their surroundings. The protagonists of Fitcarraldo (1982) and Rescue Dawn (2007) must battle their environments to survive. Here, New Orleans, interesting as it is to see the underbelly of a city used so infrequently in cinema, has no impact on McDonagh past the opening scene; he moves around the city, but is not part of it in the same way Popeye Doyle manipulated while at the same time lived off the vibrancy of New York City in The French Connection (1971). Therefore, The Bad Lieutenant does not feel like a Herzog film. The visual flair (animal close ups, break dancing souls) while good to look at feel tacked on to remind us what a crazy film this is. In fact, this is a very standard story disguised behind tricks that exists on a surface level only.

One last point, which may be nitpicking unnecessarily, is how bad a lieutenant exactly is McDonagh. Obviously the answer is very, but what leads him to such reprehensible behaviour is an addiction to drugs that has arisen through a heroic act. As McDonagh and Pruit stand over the drowning inmate they take bets on how long he will live, yet McDonagh saves him. Maverick behaviour maybe, but not bad. It is Val Kilmer’s Pruit who is happy to walk away and let the coroner deal with the body. And again, towards the end, Pruit, who with no drug addition or clear need for money, is eager to kill and steal from Big Fate. And again, McDonagh does the right thing. A bad lieutenant or drug addict who needs help?

On Debunking Myths in Robin Hood

There has been a lot of talk around the latest reimagining of the Robin Hood story and how it abandons the common myth in favour of a more realistic approach. This is dangerous territory to negotiate when it comes to figures so entrenched in mythology that every report of their lives is contested from some angle.

Ridley Scott’s Robin Hood begins well, establishing Robin as an archer in Richard the Lionheart’s crusade and giving him reason to arrive in Nottingham. It is here the film begins to feel strained. An unconvincing deception attempts to reassert the belief around the Locksley name familiar from Robin Hood Prince of Thieves (1991). This in turn leads to a romance between Russell Crowe’s Robin and Cate Blanchett’s Marion that lacks chemistry, or any spark at all. A shame considering both are great, versatile actors. Familiar characters arrive in familiar guises (the alcohol loving Friar Tuck, the deceptive King John) and this effort to establish an authority on the Robin Hood myth starts to borrow more and more from the very films that reinforced our impressions, right or wrong, of the outlaw.

The principal difference lies in the lack of robbing from the rich to give to the poor by replacing what in the past films is an actual trait with a more philosophical approach. There may be very little actual robbing, but through his actions, Robin defends the poor by fighting against the imposing army of the wealthy and powerful. Although it is suggested that Robin will become the very mythological character we have always imagined him to be.

Through such instances the film neither embraces the myth nor abandons it enough to create an identity of its own. Instead, a sense of familiarity creeps over the film the longer it continues. Same players, different game. Robin Hood is neither as enjoyable nor as rousing as Prince of Thieves, which successfully balanced many of the themes Scott employs (bloody crusades, land taxes, tyrannical ruler) with the myth that has endured for so long. Robin Hood attempts to do for this myth what Antoine Fuqua attempted for King Arthur (2004), but the same is true here as it was for Arthur and his Knights; the myth is more fun.

On Bringing Back the 80s in Hot Tub Time Machine

The 1980s have seen a resurgence in the 00s decade across the board and particularly in film. Producers have plundered 80s concepts in an attempt to update them for a contemporary audience. This has been successful (Michael Mann’s Miami Vice (2006)), but mostly it results in heavy handed pastiche (Transformers (2007 & 2009)). Time will tell how Joe Carnahan’s The A-Team (2010) will fare.

Hot Tub Time Machine’s challenge therefore, was to parody a decade that we are currently paying homage to. A difficult task and one the film does not successfully achieve. On their return to the 80s, the four time travelers are greeted by classic 80s rock anthems, leg warmers, bright over sized clothes (including a Miami Vice sweater), archetypal 80s food and technology. This could easily be a (themed) college party and only a live Reagan broadcast convinces them the impossible has happened. However, this is not parody, it is a brief panorama of 80s memorabilia, designed to invoke nostalgia in an audience that only recognise the joke because of the current 80s revival. And in some strange, unintended twist, the film’s target audience are laughing at the presently fashionable because they have been told to and think they should, not because it stirs memories of the past.

Fortunately for them and for any audience members old enough to vividly remember the 80s, Hot Tub Time Machine quickly becomes like every other recent average obscene bromedy (a comedy focused on the heterosexual relationship of men). In fact, it probably falls below average as the majority of the jokes and performances fall flat. A scene involving a bet in a bathroom and an angry phone call represent the highlights. References to the 80s continue on a surface level only (there’s Chevy Chase; there’s Crispin Glover; there’s Poison and so on) without ever becoming a more resonant part of the narrative or even affecting the characters’ arcs. Would a man born in 1986 not be irrevocably changed and possibly damaged by a return to the year he was born?

Hot Tub Time Machine has nothing to say about the 80s decade other than spot the gimmick and if you look really closely, there may be a slight hint of John Cusack at his 80s comedic best. But you’ll have to look really hard.

On the Terrorist Comedy in Four Lions

This story of five enthusiastic, but unskilled suicide bombers merges an unusual dichotomy between comedy and terrorism. The reason for this abnormal mixing arises from the terror aspect arriving in the form of British Islamist suicide bombers trying to decide on where in the UK to blow up. That they come from the North draws immediate comparisons with the terrorist attacks of July 2007, which adds the film a further layer of realism.

The most potent example of this dichotomy comes in the scenes with the main protagonist Omar, and his wife and son. The question of Omar’s planned suicide mission is such an accepted fact in the household and discussed with such nonchalance that it goes away towards negating the labels we place on suicide bombers. This was also successfully achieved in Syriana (2005).

The combination is almost always successful and the comedy and the gravity of the issue are fused fantastically. What Four Lions offers is a opportunity for great humour, but placed alongside the jarring reality of terrorism in its most naive and dangerous fashion.

On the Lack of Mettle in Iron Man 2

The recent Marvel universe on film (with the exception of the Blade series) has always been more child friendly, smoother around the edges, than the DC world. The collection of films with Spider-Man, Hulk, The Fantastic Four, the X-Men and now Iron Man all take place in a glossy, recognisable world where threat is seen, but rarely felt and where danger could be around the corner, but is unlikely to place in harms way any innocent civilians.

Compare this to the recent DC films of Batman (going back to Tim Burton) and the Watchmen. Dark, gritty worlds set apart from our own reality, but instantly realistic. Even DC’s Superman Returns (2006) contains far more humanity than Iron Man 2 and moments of suspenseful threat. Quite an achievement for a character almost completely invulnerable. Rather than take a courageous step outside the formulaic, money spinning Marvel set up to challenge the likes of The Dark Knight (2008) and Watchmen (2009), Iron Man 2 sticks to worn out, unoriginal clichés. The script is weak, but disguises its weaknesses behind good casting. Sam Rockwell, Mickey Rourke and Gwyneth Paltrow give the story life, while Samuel L Jackson’s Nick Fury does his best Jules Winnfield impression, leading us to wonder what superheroes do with their time off. Watch Tarantino movies?

What raised Iron Man (2008) (another formulaic comic book adaptation) above the realms of the average was the cocky, slightly hyper, agitated performance of Robert Downey Jnr. How, in the scope of three films this has become as frustrating as it is in Iron Man 2, is difficult to say. Downey Jnr’s performances in The Soloist (2009) and Tropic Thunder (2008) were fantastic, yet here the arrogance grates and the overexcited agitation that previously added layers to the character here becomes an irritation. A scene where Tony Stark attempts to confess to Pepper Potts could lead to annoyed shouts of, “Just Speak”.

Iron Man 2 will make a lot of people a lot of money and further strengthen Marvel’s desire to go forward with The Avengers films and spin-offs for all those characters. And from this, good films may come, even a great film. But to achieve this, a writer, director or actor needs the mettle to take these films out of what has become a very profitable comfort zone.

On the Baltimore New Jersey Television War

There seems little left to say when it comes to the much discussed debate on whether The Sopranos (1999 – 2007) or The Wire (2002 – 2008) can be crowned, ‘best show on television’. However, having watched both along side each other and within a relatively short space of time, and with the advantage of access to material written post completion, the way the respective shows choose to end can reveal a victor by a narrow margin.

The Wire is perhaps the most comprehensive show that has been on television. The layered representation of Baltimore takes the viewer through so many varying aspects of how drug crime can affect a huge metropolis that a viewer could be forgiven for thinking they were watching a show on institutional restructuring. The constant strain for realism, a result of the creator’s massive experience in the subject matter and the fact that The Wire demands much from its audience will ensure that repeat viewings continue to reveal previously unseen layers. Yet the strain for realism that is so impressive for four seasons is strained a little too much in the final season, based around the industry of journalism. And, the final discerning message that the problem is cyclical is slightly undermined by the choice of concluding story lines for its main characters, mostly Jimmy McNulty and Marlo Stanfield.

Contrary to The Wire, The Sopranos is a much more cinematic experience. While it may not always be effective to the degree it was intended, the creativity in the storytelling is at times remarkable to watch. After the fifth series, the weakest of them all, the show comes back at its strongest for the final push towards a conclusion that has proved as controversial as anything in television for a long time. Whether the fate that David Chase creates for Tony Soprano is to your liking or not, going back over the last episode, even the last two series’, you cannot but be impressed by Chase’s singular vision and determination to achieve that vision. In this respect, the end of The Sopranos becomes a richer experience with repeat viewings (like The Wire). For a complete breakdown on the end of The Sopranos and what it could represent, this website provides a compelling argument: http://masterofsopranos.wordpress.com/the-sopranos-definitive-explanation-of-the-end/

What this brief piece does it merely scratch the surface of two very impressive achievements in television. The objective is a purely subjective claim that what may appear at first to be a self indulgent, anti audience conclusion is, with the necessary reading done, an example of a writer completely in control of his craft, his characters and his audience.