On Jack Reacher

Jack Reacher is better than you’d expect it to be, but still with its fair share of weird funny sad juxtapositions. The main narrative thread is dark, relevant and engaging. Tom Cruise’s arrogance as Jack Reacher works, at times, at other times the comedy that’s meant to arise from it feels misplaced. His don’t-give-a-damn anti hero isn’t quite the Driver, but still works. Enjoyable, slightly weird and sure to spawn a franchise. Bourne has nothing to fear. 

On Taking a Chance with The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

A director who dropped out, a troubled production, a controversial casting choice and a more controversial image; these are the just some of the pre-release headlines that surrounded The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. Such stories cannot have been welcome news for fans of Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings trilogy (2001 – 2003).

Yet, when you look closer at the news it was never that bad. The director who dropped out, Guillermo Del Toro (it would have been fascinating to see his take on Tolkien) was replaced by Jackson himself, who had already brought Middle Earth to such incredible realisation before. The troubled production involved pay disputes in New Zealand and were quickly resolved. Martin Freeman would have to wait till the film’s release to prove any critics wrong and the image, the controversial image… a brand new high definition 3D, shot for IMAX and, uniquely in 48 frames per second, twice what other feature films offer! Yet, is this, a CGI reliant, epic adventure film not exactly the type of film with which to experiment with? Such experiments are not for Ken Loach films to which serious film criticism is applied. The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey is film as film was intended: pure, unadulterated, magical fun. Just as audiences wondered at the spectacle of Melies, so will audiences marvel at feat Jackson has achieved here, for this is no less an experiment in cinema. An experiment worth celebrating.

At 48 frames per second The Hobbit is a unique experience and even seasoned cinemagoers may find the image at first unsettling. The sharpness of the scene is incredible and more akin to a BBC nature documentary than a feature film. The close ups reveal such detail it is almost intrusive. This could be that the first 30 minutes of the film are set in the claustrophobic hobbit hole, heightening the realism as it closes off space. However, the eye soon adjusts (if only the same were true of 3D) and when it does, Jackson’s choice to film in 48 pays off. As The Hobbit relies so much on CGI, the quicker frame rate blurs the distinction between real and imaged. This results in less of those ‘computer game sequences’ that plagued The Two Towers (2002) and The Return of the King (2003). In fact, the concluding scene of The Hobbit, involving giant eagles, is so majestic in its realism and cinematography that you could swear you were present.

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey is an excellent addition to the Middle Earth canon that Jackson is creating. Not as accomplished as The Fellowship of the Ring, but equal to the others. Freeman excels as Bilbo and the dwarf clan are increasingly engaging. This is a film of tremendous fun and does not feel its 160 minutes in any way. Yet, even with all its expensive technology and high definition image, The Hobbit can still not solve the issues of 3D, but it does make the case for IMAX.

On Smashed

Films about alcoholics battling alcoholism are not uncommon and in its main narrative thread, this is what Smashed deals with and it deals with it well. However, it is the secondary story, involving protagonist Kate that provides the grounding for the drama and humour.

Kate, the alcoholic primary school teacher, throws up during class. When one of the children asks her if she is pregnant, Kate decides this is the better option than admitting she is wasted, or smashed. This sounds like an absurd idea, but writer / director James Ponsoldt handles it with great skill. The lie grows into even more difficult and cringe inducing situations and compliments that main narrative thread of Kate battling alcoholism. When Kate is eventually fired from the school, for admitting to the lie, Smashed loses some of its appeal and charm and continues doing ‘recovering alcoholic’ well. 

On the Avatar Effect with Life of Pi

Life of Pi wants to be a film full of quirky, idiosyncratic characters that drive the film. A lead named after a French swimming pool; a father with a comical limp caused by polio; an uncle with an exaggerated chest that makes him an excellent swimmer. To begin with it all feels very Amelie (2001) and like Amelie it’s difficult to really connect with the characters. Instead we bond with detached amusement. For quirky characters with heart see Wes Anderson.

Therefore, more than a character driven dramatic piece of work, Life of Pi is a visual accomplishment, much in the same way Avatar (2009) was. The use of 3D in Life of Pi, while good, is not displaying massive strides in the technology and doesn’t improve on what Cameron did three years with Avatar. The image is crisp and at times stunning and the 3D adds fantastic depth especially in the scene where the boat sinks and Pi is stranded on the empty pacific. However, during fast moving action scenes, it still blurs.

More impressive than the 3D is the creation of the Bengal tiger, which is fantastically realised with CGI and terrifyingly real. However, like Avatar, the story will not stand up to repeated viewings and with repeated viewings the technology will become less impressive and soon look out of date. This is a shame as Ang Lee is obviously very capable of not only creating great character driven films (Brokeback Mountain (2005)), but also doing this while combining them with technology (Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon (2000)). Life of Pi is fun and entertaining, but soon forgettable and another argument for 3D not having a long shelf life.    

On Intertextuality and Seven Psychopaths

Intertextuality is where one media text references another. This is hugely common occurrence in cinema, but perhaps done more subtly than in writer / director Martin McDonagh’s latest film Seven Psychopaths. Not only does the film reference other media texts, but also it references itself.

To begin, the film opens with two gangster discussing gangster issues. These gangsters are played by Michael Pitt and Michael Stuhlbarg, both familiar to Boardwalk Empire (2010 - ) audiences for playing gangsters. We therefore, as audiences seeing these two onscreen, automatically associate them with their Empire roles. A move McDonagh would have been very aware of.

One of the main psychopaths is played by Christopher Walken an actor with a significant past in cinema history. Walken is best known for playing criminal roles with an edge, an edge that is usually bordering of the psychopathic: King of New York (1990), Batman Returns (1992) True Romance (1993). McDonagh, obviously aware of this casts him as the most Buddist of the psychopaths.

Beyond this external level of intertextuality, Seven Psychopaths references itself as this is a film about a film being written called Seven Psychopaths, where the characters in the ‘reality’ of the film are amalgams of the characters in the one being written. This makes for a very interesting concept that proves to be a lot of fun, but remains a hollow cinematic experience.  

On Questions of the Image with End of Watch

There was a time when the quality of film was a point to be proud of. A clean, crisp image was to be admired. This has by no means completely disappeared. Directors like Christopher Nolan are experimenting with wide, sharp images for IMAX. Paul Thomas Anderson did the same with 65mm for The Master (2012), which looked fantastic. The onset of digital filmmaking, perhaps led by Michael Mann in mainstream cinema offers a different aesthetic, but remains of a high quality.

A poor image used to connote a poor, cheaply made film. No longer is this the case. Digital film has made the art form more accessible and the Internet provides the platform. This disregard of the link between poor quality poor film, has spread into mainstream cinema. Take the Paranormal Activity (2007 – 2012) series; films that rely on the grainy, vintage look of the film to tell their stories. End of Watch works on the same principal by following two LA policemen, one of who is documenting the life of the police for a film class he is taking.  The image switches from that of the handheld digital he holds, to button cameras he and his partner wear to third party shot footage by director David Ayer. The difference in image is clear, but never detracts from the suspense the film creates and actually uses the variants in image as a driving force in the narrative. The issue may be that audiences newer to the cinema will be unable or unwilling to differentiate between the qualities of image produced by 35mm, to 70mm, to digital to pseudo-vintage. The art form maybe disappearing.  

On Cinema of the Absurd with Argo

Mid way through Ben Affleck’s third film as director, John Goodman’s character refers to the Iranian rescue mission as theatre of the absurd. As dramatic comedy genres go, Argo is more farce than theatre of the absurd, but the reference is accepted. Farce is defined as a piece of work that ‘aims at entertaining the audience by means of unlikely, extravagant, and improbable situations…a fast-paced plot whose speed usually increases, culminating in an ending which often involves an elaborate chase scene.’ Argo fits the definition snugly.

Affleck has crafted a tense drama that swings between comedy, menace and tension with ease. The story, one almost too unbelievable to be true, is the film’s hook and while the ensemble cast is strong, the story is star. Affleck is continually maturing as a director and Argo is a mature thriller, choosing to take a balanced political standpoint rather than create a jingoistic American heroes story.  A gripping and fantastical film, Argo is well worth watching. 

On Enigmatic Filmmaking with The Master

How do you follow a film like There Will Be Blood (2007), a film so instantly an American classic? If you’re Paul Thomas Anderson, writer / director of some of the most interesting contemporary American films, you release The Master, a future classic, but for reasons far less clear.

The Master is best described as a loose narrative piece of cinema exploring issues of posttraumatic syndrome following WWII, the notion of cult and the balances of power. Freddie Quell is a returning American solider suffering (or excelling, if you asked him) from alcoholism and an unresolved and untreated fear of female abandonment. Lancaster Dodd is a man of blind confidence, a man not to be trifled with who possess the power to control the malleable, backed up by his Lady Macbeth wife. When the two meet, what follows is a piece of filmmaking that is impossible to ignore.

An interesting facet of The Master, and one that contributes to the feeling of unease on the part of the audience is that way Anderson frames his scenes. As an audience we are used to seeing the action, seeing the character that the scene is focused on. What Anderson does brilliantly is keep hidden what we are so used to seeing. We hear it, we see the reaction of others, but we aren’t privy to it ourselves and this endears the film with a sense of mystery and is uncomfortable to watch.

Furthermore, The Master first presents us with Freddie Quell faking sex with a woman made of sand on the beach. This is not a man we can relate to. Lancaster Dodd on the other hand, when juxtaposed with Quell appears reasonable and focused. We are therefore naturally drawn to Dodd as a point of recognition, someone to relate to. Yet Dodd is a man of very questionable ethics and when considered objectively, outside of the film, is a character as unstable as Quell.

As well as the major themes discussed above, The Master examines the forced loss of identity, achieved through enigmatic means, surely the basis of cult. Quell, like Harold Pinter’s protagonist in The Birthday Party (1958), Stanley, is a man who has fallen out of expected societal conventions. Dodd and The Cause form the society that Quell is brought into, after his identity has been questioned. However, unlike Stanley, Quell breaks free, proving too much of a free spirit, too damaged if you like, to be controlled. Whatever your interpretation, The Master is filmmaking at its highest level. 

On Violence Begetting Violence with Rust and Bone

De rouille et d'os (Rust and Bone) is Jacques Audiard’s follow up to the fantastic A Prophet (2009). The latter achieved what it set out to do with perfection, combining style with substance and creating a masterpiece of the crime/prison genre. Rust and Bone does not replicate this achievement, which may be the result of it being a combination of two short stories and therefore feeling more episodic. 

However, it is incredibly well acted and at times as stylish, brutal and powerful as A Prophet was. 

A Prophet was a film that did not shy away from violence and used it often to force the audience to face the realities of the protagonist’s incarceration. It is interesting to look at Rust and Bone from the point of its violent interactions, which ultimately propel the film forward and, as A Prophet did, forces an audience to face uncomfortable realities about characters they have engaged with.

Matthias Schoenaerts’ Alain is inherently violent; he treats his young son with the temperament of a man with a short fuse; he is drawn to jobs that require confrontation and attempts to make it as a professional mixed martial arts fighter. This is a man who lives with violence, even if he is not explicitly violent that often. Marion Cottillard’ s Stephanie, a trainer of killer whales is a woman who has violence done to her. While putting on a SeaWorld show she is attacked by one of the whales and loses her legs. This act of blameless violence draws her into the arms (literally as he carries her) to Alain. The violence done to Stephanie begets, to a greater degree, Alain’s own violence as she encourages and inspires his illegal mixed martial arts fighting. Yet, Stephanie is a woman coming to terms with violence, she is not a home with it and ultimately Alain’s treatment of her and others drives them apart.

It is only an act of self harm – violence unto himself – that allows Alain to develop as a person. Here Audiard, while looking at (often glamorously) violence, may be making the point that only when violent people turn their brutality inwards and accept it can they develop.

Rust and Bone can feel contrived. Yet it is at times beautiful and challenging cinema. The scene where Alain and Stephanie walk into a illegal fighting ring, with the sun setting behind them to Springsteen’s State Trooper is as memorable as anything this year.  

On Mise-en-Scene and On the Road

How do you adapt one of the most enduring and loved novels of the 20^th Century? Hiring a director perhaps best known for already making a great road movie is a good start. In 2004 Walter Salles directed The Motorcycle Diaries and word has it that it was this film that got him the job of bringing Jack Kerouac’s On the Road to the cinema screen.

To compare the film to the book is a pointless exercise. They are different mediums and use different tools to achieve something absorbed in completely different ways. Fans of novels, especially ones as meteoric as On the Road will never be happy, even if Kerouac could somehow direct it himself.

Therefore, how does On the Road work as a film? The best way to approach a review of this film is through Salles’ construction of his mise-en-scene, which is very impressive. From the costumes to the sets to the props, all communicate an incredibly vivid sense of time. Even the roles are very well cast. Everything within the frame is so meticulously constructed that we wish we could step into the screen and be instantly transported to this world of bohemian intellectuals in New York, or San Francisco.

But we can’t step into the screen and if we could would we like what we found, for even though Salles’ mise-en-scene is rich and warm, his film is cold. There is a distance between the characters and us that is never breached. We remain observers unable to enter the world of Sal and Dean; uninvited for being too conventional or conservative. So much occurs within this film and that we never feel engaged with the story or care about the characters is a major problem. On the Road may have suffered by being swamped by its own expectations.

On Cinematography and Skyfall

Even for a Bond film, Skyfall has received massive amounts of hype. Maybe this time (the 23^rd in the series) it was justified. An award-winning director in Sam Mendes, the talented Javier Barden as the antagonist and Daniel Craig returning as James Bond. None of this really matters when the films are so formulaic that any talent attached to them is diluted by the strictures imposed upon the story. However, this is a ridiculous criticism to make of Bond films as they remain essentially unchanged and if you don’t like the formula, don’t see the films.

Where Skyfall deserves celebration is in hiring Roger Deakins as cinematographer. Deakins has worked on countless films of a quality far greater than that of Skyfall and has brought to this most average of spy franchises a beautiful image. Fargo (1996), Jarhead (2005), The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007) and True Grit (2010) are just some of Deakin’s more recent films as director of photography.

Some of the dialogue in Skyfall is excruciating and there are plenty of times when the film could be muted and pleasure could be taken from what Deakins has achieved. A silhouetted fight scene atop a Singapore skyscraper is incredible. The mist hanging over the Scottish moors communicates more about the atmosphere of the film and the mood of the characters than the script can achieve. Talent will (almost) always survive being attached to a Bond film, but rarely does it shine throughout it. Deakins makes one aspect of Skyfall something to be admired. 

On Beasts of the Southern Wild

Beasts of the Southern Wild is one of those films that comes out of nowhere and is suddenly everywhere. The actors and filmmakers are relative unknowns, which allows the film to quietly approach cinemas, but also means that its success seems to be magnified, as if critics can’t quite believe these unknowns made a full feature length film.

BOTSW tells the story of a young girl and her father living in the bathtub, an area of an unnamed US state that has been flooded in a storm and then walled off by a levy. The leap to the real life events of hurricane Katrina are purposely and clearly made, despite the film taking on a more surreal direction, where some residents, despite being asked to leave, have decided to remain living in the bathtub.

The narrative is very loose and at times shaky. There are elements that feel contrived and those that feel repetitive. Yet, it is an ambitious film and for writer/director Behn Zeitlin it is a very impressive debut feature. Where Zeitlin’s skills lies are in the performances he extracts from his inexperienced cast, specifically Quvenzhané Wallis, who as the young girl forced to learn how to survive in the bathtub, carries the film. Wallis’ performance is beyond her years and acting experience and the immediate attached we feel to her makes BOTSW the emotional rollercoaster it is and makes it easy to forgive or forget some of the more obvious weaknesses.

Cinematographer Ben Richardson has done a fantastic job as the film has a beautiful grainy feel to it that uses light majestically. Richardson brings what is a hard landscape to film to life. BOTSW is not a flawless film and is probably not fully deserving of the unending praise thrown on it, but it is a brave film and should be celebrated.

On the Writer and Ruby Sparks

Is writing the least glamorous glamorous job that one can hold? You may walk red carpets, mingle with celebrities, travel round the world and earn money to make life a comfortable experience, but in many cases remain anonymous. Without your work the finished product doesn’t exist, yet once it does and it is out there, an audience unfamiliar and uninterested unconsciously casts you aside with your methods, as do a press concerned only with the ‘names’ of entertainment.

Ruby Sparks concerns itself with a rare creature, the novelist who has achieved recognisable fame.  Fame he doesn’t necessarily crave. Yet, he is still portrayed as we expect writers to be portrayed; an indoors type, lonely, bookish (obviously) and out of place in a gym. Despite this stereotypical presentation, Ruby Sparks is mostly about writing, the pleasures, the difficulties and the dreams of writers. When we meet the film’s protagonist he is writing using a typewriter, despite this being the 21^st Century; he is anachronistic. Not just in his equipment, but also in his approach to love, believing in the magic of romance (a magic that becomes literal).

As the film progresses, his love of writing and of what his writing manifests reveals its true nature, its difficulties and complications. He writes less and when he does it is not for love of writing, but for a need to control his writing from spiralling out of his control. By the end of the film, he has come to learn that the magic of writing and of love does not exist in a romantic ideal somewhere located in the past, but exists in the present where it requires work and constant attention. He swaps his typewriter for a MacBook Pro and writes his next great novel. 

On Safe Comedy with Liberal Arts

It’s easy to think that a young, hipster looking writer/director like Josh Radnor would, when tackling the romantic comedy genre, produce something off beat or indy-esque. You would not be at fault for thinking this; he stars in a popular E4 comedy, How I Met Your Mother (2005 -) and his first film as writer/director was perfectly titled to connote eccentric cinematic sensibilities, Happythankyoumoreplease (2010). His new film, which he wrote, directed and stars in is Liberal Arts and tells the story of a graduate of a top university finding himself, twenty years later, back on campus and falling for a freshman.

However, Liberal Arts is, beneath the liberal, arty title, a very traditional romantic comedy. There is the mismatched romantic pairing, the wiser, foreshadowing older mentor, the off beat side-kick and a style of comedy which falls very much under the family friendly, don’t offend the elderly banner.

All of this feels very nice and fresh within the continuing onslaught of comedy inspired by the Judd Apatow lewd, bromance genre. Liberal Arts is funny and is touching and is able to reach out to a wide audience and make itself relevant and relatable. The performances, like the direction aren’t flashy, but display the restraint of a director confident of his vision. A film that is memorable for being unremarkable. 

On Star Power with The Campaign

It is a fair observation that without the comedic acting talents of Will Ferrell and Zach Galifianakis, The Campaign would not be a success. It may not even be a film. The entire script is written around the talents of the actors and what they have shown, time and again, they can bring to a film. Both are talented dramatic actors that bring these talents to dramatic comedy.

The result is a very funny film that has no significant secondary characters and a story that is wafer thin. Yet when Ferrell and Galifianakis are on screen The Campaign is entertaining. 

On a little bit Noir with Looper

It’s a little bit Blade Runner (1982), a little bit The Terminator (1984) and a lot noir, but entirely original. Looper is the latest film from writer, director Rian Johnson. Johnson has created a futuristic, time travelling story and in the vein of Inception (2010), has told a complex narrative with impressive ease. Yet, more than science fiction, Looper is a neo noir. A film that takes the conventions of the most uncertain genre, film noir, and updates them.

Like film noir, Looper focuses on a down and out anti-hero. A drug addict and a man stuck in a dead end job, literally. This man tells us his story in flashback surrounded by a shadowy, dirty, urban environment and with a sense of pessimism. All conventions of film noirs.

The differences come in the representation of the film noir staple, the femme fatale and this is not unusual for neo noirs. In classic film noirs like Double Indemnity (1944) and Detour (1945) the femme fatale is manipulative and dangerous, often knowingly leading the anti-hero to his end. Here and in other neo noirs, like Drive (2011) and The Dark Knight (2008), the main female character is dangerous, but in different ways. Looper’s protagonist is lead to his end by the involvement with a woman, but she is not bad, she does not lead him to his end, he takes the decision himself. Just like Drive’s Driver was led to his end by attachment with the female neighbour, she would have preferred his company; he chooses his absence or death.  

There seems to be some key to successful and creative films that attach themselves to noir, as Looper, like those films mentioned above, is fantastic. It has the potential to be both a financial success and a critical success. 

On Jesse James Comparisons with Killing Them Softly

In 2007 Andrew Dominik released The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, a masterpiece of contemporary cinema. Jesse James was a measured, contemplative, beautiful film that was always going to be difficult to follow up. Five years on Dominik releases his third feature as writer, director, Killing Them Softly, which reunites him with Jesse James actor, Brad Pitt.

Killing Them Softly is a perfect choice as a follow up to Jesse James. It is a contemporary piece, much shorter and blackly comic, yet the principal characters of both films share similarities, making Dominik something of an auteur. Dominik and Pitt’s interpretation of the American civil war outlaw/hero Jesse James was as a man who felt betrayed by his country. A man who was increasingly isolated by a changing America and searched for and on occasion found his identity in violence. Specifically what he saw as retributory violence.  Pitt’s character in Killing Them Softly Jackie Coogan is a gangster, specifically a hit man, brought into clear up a difficult situation. As the entire film is an allegory for the depressed economic state of America, Coogan’s frustrations in carrying out his job can be read as frustrations with American economic policy. Like Jesse James, Coogan sees himself as the only sane man in a corrupt system, a man who sees his own isolation as those around him struggle to adapt and a man to whom violence is an answer and an identity.

The politics may not be subtly intertwined, but there is great humour created from comparing organised crime to struggling businesses in a depressed America. And Coogan is relatable because his actions come from a place of pragmatism, when the powers that be (in this instance George W. Bush) are making decisions with apparently no thought.

The performances are terrific and as expected, Dominik has created a beautiful aesthetic from the glum settings with a script that may not be subtle, but puts fantastic dialogue into his characters’ mouths. This may be a new genre, the anti-Capitalist gangster film.

On Lawless

Lawless first tells us it is based on a true story. Writer Nick Cave has however clarified this further by saying his screenplay is actually based on a true myth, which is a convenient way of avoiding historical criticism. What we get from Lawless is a probation era story of three brothers running a bootlegging operation in rural America. The film is well acted and violent enough to make the period piece uncomfortably real, which is a positive. The narrative however feels too busy and therefore the film doesn’t flow in the same way that Michael Mann’s Public Enemies (2009) did, a film that Lawless share many similarities with. Cave’s screenplay, or what parts of it made it to the screen, don’t dedicate enough time to certain characters, which results in detachment from an audience perspective. So, instead of becoming involved, emotionally and intellectually, with the brothers’ story, we instead find ourselves entertained passengers. There is much to admire in Lawless, but little to remember.  

On Breaking the Rules with Anna Karenina

It should come as no surprise that Joe Wright’s Anna Karenina is more than just your average period drama. Wright’s adaptation of Atonement (2007) had a savage edge that shocked and gave the film a vividly contemporary feel. The Soloist (2009) and Hanna (2011) were both well constructed genre pieces that benefitted from Wright’s creative camera.

Throughout his relatively short career as a director, Wright has quickly learnt all the rules and now he knows them, with Anna Karenina he breaks them. Wright takes creative film making to another level. This film is best described as a mixture of film, opera and dance. The way Wright intertwines sets and scenery using characters and props feels utterly unique in contemporary, mainstream cinema. Characters move as if dancing. Twirling in and out of each other’s space and in and out of sets that frequently overlap in fascinating ways.

This film is an absolute treat on the eyes, assuming the audience posses the right level of film fluency. As after all, film is a language and to fully appreciate Anna Karenina, you need a high degree of fluency. This adaptation is not for everyone and will anger some audience members who will find its treatment of Tolstoy’s text sacrilegious.

As with Atonement, Wright has made a period film (19^th Century Russia), complete with period costumes and props feel incredibly contemporary. The heavy plot flows unpredictably between different narrative threads and the actors all play their roles with a sense of tradition, yet modernity. Jude Law especially is fantastic as Alexei Karenin.

Where Anna Karenina falls down is in the emotional resonance that is lost amongst the magnificent work done by Wright and his team. As engaging as the film is, the affair between Anna and Count Vronsky never feels as dangerous as it should and it is hard to become emotional invested in their lives. Even at the end, when sacrifices are made and the tragedy of the story is revealed, there is still more to enjoy about the art of the film making rather than the lives of the characters. This is a shame. If Anna Karenina packed an emotional punch to match the artistry, this would be a breathtaking film. 

On Total Recall

It’s loud, fast and mostly ludicrous, but it is fun. In a summer of disappointing blockbusters, Total Recall is better than expected. But, it does not make enough of its what is real concept. The idea of reality isn’t explored enough and instead the film becomes a brainless action film, rather than an action film with some depth. 

On Low Key Spying with Shadow Dancer

Documentary filmmaker James Marsh turns his hand to dramatic fiction with an adaptation of Tom Bradby’s novel. Shadow Dancer is a spy thriller surrounding the war against the IRA in the 1990s. As recent spy films go, Shadow Dancer is low key and shares most in common with the slow paced, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2010) and like that film, Marsh’s is beautifully crafted and paced. Bourne and Bond can create suspense and thrills with action, Shadow Dancer does it with hidden threat made all the more dangerous because of the female spy and her family. The acting is all round fantastic with Andrea Riseborough standing out above the rest. The danger with a slow paced thriller is that naturally, the film should be moving towards a climatic ending, which is harder to achieve when the rest of the film has relied on a slower style. Shadow Dancer does this, but it feels rushed and we’re left with an anti-climax to an otherwise superb film.   

On What is Real with The Imposter

What is real? Not in a blockbuster, Total Recall kind of way, but in a manipulative artistic kind of way. The Imposter asks this kind of question and challenges audiences to answer it. The story is that of a thirteen-year-old boy who goes missing in Texas. Four years later he shows up, in Spain, with a French accent and dramatically altered physically. The once grief stricken family, now delighted, accept him back with no questions. The audience however, have lots of questions.

Director Bart Layton is very aware of the conventions of the documentary genre and because of this he can break and play with them. For a documentary The Imposter looks like a dramatic feature and Layton uses his camera in ways that will remind audiences of feature films. The use of actors, of found film footage and Layton’s staging of his scenes all reinforce this notion that what we are watching is fiction. Yet maybe this is the point. The Imposter is not a one sided documentary, Layton does not favour one argument over another and the people involved all imbue the audience with feelings of ambivalence. By creating a style of documentary that forces us to question the validity of what we are seeing, Layton is giving his film a style that matches the theme: uncertainty. It may be a true story, but the outcome is far from clear.

Not too long ago, Catfish (2010) achieved a similar effect, but by using very familiar documentary techniques. In the case of Catfish, the tidiness and remarkable nature of the story, made audiences unsure. In the case of The Imposter, Layton wants us to be unsure, wants us to question the truth, but in reality, it’s likely to be true.    

On Parallel Storytelling with The Bourne Legacy

Tony Gilroy, who wrote the previous Bourne trilogy, has expanded his role from writer into writer/director as he attempts to expand the Bourne franchise beyond Paul Greengrass and Matt Damon. Gilroy has approached this by creating a narrative that runs parallel to The Bourne Ultimatum (2007) and this is the most fascinating feature about The Bourne Legacy. We see scenes from the latter of the previous trilogy extended and given more depth. The events from Ultimatum and the chaos that Matt Damon’s Jason Bourne causes in that film are referred to throughout. This technique, while not necessarily unique, is a different approach in today’s cinema as many filmmakers look to create their own stamp on a franchise with reimagining’s, prequels or even worse, remakes. Gilroy displays his respect for the previous work by creating this parallel storyline.

Unfortunately, beyond the expanded narrative The Bourne Legacy fails to live up to the quality of the previous films. While Jeremy Renner makes a good rouge agent and Edward Norton is fantastic in his role, the film strays too far into science fiction. This is a shame as it was the realism and the practicality of the characters that made the previous films so engrossing. The focus on the science behind the agents hints at some element of super human ability, which detracts from the tension in the fight scenes. Additionally, Gilroy also seems too focused on what it next to create a complete film here. There is talk of bringing Renner and Damon together for the next film, when the best option maybe to leave the franchise alone. 

On Expressionism and Rom-Com with Take This Waltz

Written and directed by Sarah Polley, Take This Waltz follows a traditional romantic comedy narrative, but is vividly offbeat due to Polley’s creative, non-naturalistic devices, which makes this an expressionist rom-com.

The quirky character traits (a fear of fear) can at first be confusing, as the characters seem too exaggerated to be believable. However, once you realise the effect that Polley is aiming to create, one where distortion and exaggeration express the emotion, the film really takes hold. The film is set and shot in Toronto and Polley has found locations of fantastic colour, both interior and exterior and in the use of costumes to bring the film off the screen and reflect the mood.  

The film rejects expected conventions of rom-com while keeping the narrative very typical. A beautiful underwater dance where the characters don’t touch says so much about the relationship we are experiencing without the use of dialogue. And this form of expression is what to expect from Take This Waltz and also what makes it a unique rom-com, more memorable than other films sharing the genre.   

On Technology and Comedy with Ted

Gollum, King Kong, the Avatar aliens and now Ted. All created using the same state of the art motion capture technology. Only one of them allows prostitutes to defecate on the apartment floor. Using this technology for an X rated comedy is a nice touch as it allows writer, director Seth MacFarlane to bring Ted to life and make him a character in the way Gollum was. So far the technology has only been used to generate dramatic or alien characters, with comedy maybe seeming undeserving or unlikely to need the technology. But, even when the character is almost 100% comedy, as Ted is, rendering them with more realistic human emotions and movement that motion capture brings, makes the film, in this case, much funnier. And Ted is funny, pretty much in the same way Family Guy is; it hits and misses, but mostly hits. The comedy is generated through MacFarlane’s writing mostly, but the combination of Wahlberg, who is more and more versatile, MacFarlane’s voice and the cleverly animated Ted, makes this essentially a live action version of Family Guy.   

On Breaking the Trilogy Trend with The Dark Knight Rises

It has almost been an unwritten rule in film history that trilogies always have a weak chapter and that chapter is usually the third. Yet, recent filmmakers have sought to break this trend. Toy Story (1995 – 2010) and the Matt Damon Jason Bourne (2002 – 2007) films being the most notable to date.

Christopher Nolan sought to add his name to this list and was in an excellent position to do so with Batman Begins (2005) and The Dark Knight (2008), which set a new standard for not only superhero films, but also summer action films. With The Dark Knight Rises, Nolan has created a successful trilogy, but this latter film does not meet the high standards Nolan has set. Where Batman Begins was more a character study than an action film and The Dark Knight was a crime/action epic, The Dark Knight Rises combines elements of both, without being as successful as either.

As we have come to expect, the acting is fantastic and the technical features are exemplary; sound design, lighting and cinematography create a beautiful film and Nolan once again illustrates that IMAX is a more immersive technology than 3D. Yet, surprisingly the narrative lacks the consistency in its complexity that made The Dark Knight (and Nolan’s Inception (2010)) so fantastic. Also missing is the bite and the risk taking that has become expected in Nolan’s films. The Dark Knight Rises favours a safe, conventional ending and with its many story threads feels busy rather than smooth. This is even more frustrating as Nolan has the opportunity to end his trilogy with the edge that his reimagining of Batman suggests and deserves.

However, it would be unfair to say The Dark Knight Rises is a weak film. Tom Hardy, Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Marion Cotillard are all excellent additions and Anne Hathaway’s master thief fits into the Nolan world very well. Hardy’s Bane is terrifying and his face off with Batman is a brutal and memorable scene within the whole trilogy. Yet, Bane’s end is equivalent to the lack of risk and narrative bite discussed above. Nolan also creates a very satisfying cyclical story that picks up on aspects of the two previous films and continues to embed his Batman films with an ideology that is very critical of the risk-taking, economy-ruining capitalists of today. Unfortunately, The Dark Knight Rises only occasionally shocks and thrills in the way the previous films have, but when it does, it does it better than any other superhero/action film out there.