On Anomalisa

It is not unusual for animation to move us with its humanity. The inferno in Toy Story 3 (2010) or the waterfall scene in Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009) illustrate this perfectly, but for animation to appear so human, so anthropomorphic is a novelty. And this isn’t even necessarily what is being aimed for in this Charlie Kaufman, Duke Johnson collaboration. Anomalisa deals with the mundanity of human vulnerability, yet includes aspects of fantasy to communicate this, much in the same way all Kaufman films have; he really is expert at dissecting and analysing very relatable emotions in inventive ways. Anomalisa is subtler than say Being John Malkovich (1999) or Synecdoche, New York (2008) or perhaps his best film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) in how it presents the world for Kaufman’s characters. The sense of loss, the affair, the feeling of hopelessness are all laid bare and made wonderfully apparent in the simple metaphor of homogeneous faces and voices, something that is again so subtle, it isn’t at first obvious. Whenever any Kaufman film comes around it is something special, something decidedly different from English speaking cinema from that year. Anomalisa is no different and certain no anomaly in Kaufman’s collection of film.

On the Necessity of Rogue One: A Star Wars Story

How many times have you sat down and wondered what a fantasy, sci-fi version of The Dirty Dozen (1967) would look like. The Second World War sub genre is not one that often mixes with the first two, but thanks to Gareth Edwards’ Star Wars spin off, Rogue One, we now know. After a fitful and slow start, perhaps inevitable when introducing so many characters (but do they all have to be on oddly named new planets), we arrive on beaches of Normandy Scarif. Here we are presented with not just WWII iconography (the uniforms), but familiar narrative plots (the planes swooping in just when all looks lost for the soldiers on the beach). Edwards has, very purposefully shown us the war in Star Wars in a manner which is far more grounded than previous attempts. There isn't a lightsaber in sight. The spectacle of Rogue One is stunning. Edwards finds ways to mount his camera that feel fresh and exhilarating. The shot of the X-Wing mid battle, seen from the tip of the wing is a thrill. Just like his Godzilla (2014) reboot, he is a skilled technician, which is clear to anyone who has watched his director’s commentary alongside his best film, Monsters (2010). Edwards is happiest with visuals so the blockbuster comes naturally to him. What Rogue One misses, that Abrams was able to bring to The Force Awakens (2015), as well as spectacle, is soul. This is, aside from The Empire Strikes Back (1980), the darkest Star Wars film. We are told in A New Hope (1977) that many died to source the death star plans. Here we see the many die. Yet the story of Jyn Erso and her arc throughout Rogue One lacks emotion. She is orphaned, thrown into a fight she doesn’t know she wants and finds a future all too late, yet in all these moments Edwards is unable to draw us in emotionally. He is a great director of images, but this isn't yet matched in his direction of people. There is more strength of feeling in Han Solo’s last moments than in the entirety of Rogue One. This absence is a shame, as the film becomes a worthy addition to the collection buffering up to A New Hope with unexpected skill and balance (although, we didn’t need to see a CGI Princess Leia, the costume says it all). On seeing The Force Awakens it felt like it was needed, as if a piece of Star Wars was missing, but only on seeing the film were you aware of this. Rogue One is a great addition, but a want more than a need.

On the Poetry of Arrival

What prescient timing Denis Villeneuve’s latest film, Arrival has. Released in a year when politicians have taken their countries in the direction of isolation, populism and fear, Villeneuve, along with screenwriter Eric Heisserer bring us a story about acceptance and collaboration, intellectualism and trust. Arrival is a poetic piece of work, tinged throughout with an elegiac quality. For as much as this is a story of hope, it is also one of loss, presented to us through a time frame hidden from our understanding until the end. The flashbacks, appearing like echoes of sound and image that we believe are filling in the gaps in Amy Adams’ protagonist are actually offering us her future. This is sublime filmmaking and perhaps Villeneuve’s most subtle and sad film. Yes, it is science fiction, but not as we know it. The camera is so unaggressive that it is dreamlike, further blurring the boundaries in time. What we expect from the genre is there, but only presented to us with less sparkle. Instead we have a palette of greens and browns and natural greys, reinforcing the message that this is a sci-fi where planets are to be saved, not destroyed.

For a film so much about language, you leave Arrival feeling affected by something deeper that words. Perhaps it is the acute dissection of our current world without an optimistic ending to satisfy our need for closure or our feigned ignorance at how bad things are. In its layering of images and time frames, its use of sound and its ideas that feel unfinished until the final frames, Arrival is a poetic and beautiful film, a re-examination of a genre that is too often homogeneous.

On Bleed for This

Boxing is such a visceral sport that it takes quite a failure in writing and direction to ruin a boxing film. Bleed for This does not fall into this trap and despite being less than average in its depiction of the sport, makes up for this with a relatively unknown yet interesting boxer and great performances. Just as we would want, Bleed for This offers up a likeable fighter, with demons (here gambling and stubbornness) who, after seeming to hit rock bottom, comes back in a fashion that we cannot help but cheer for. The difference here is that the rock bottom is where the film feels most confident. The car crash, the surgery, the rehabilitation are all executed very well, using sound and variations in film quality to either makes us squirm with the perceived pain or find charm in the defiance of medical orders. This is a comeback story where the sport is almost irrelevant but is solid all round.

On Bone Tomahawk

There are some things you can never forget. The last 10 minutes of western horror Bone Tomahawk will be one of them. Like many westerns it follows a familiar narrative path, building slowly with the hint of threat before exploding in a final showdown. And like many of the best westerns Bone Tomahawk explores the relationship between savagery and civilisation, whilst neatly sidestepping the stereotype of feral Indians. This is a skilfully directed, yet simple narrative, building the fear with little on screen and developing the emotional attachment to the four men before the shocking yet cathartic ending. It is not to be missed. Bone Tomahawk also gives Kurt Russell a good reason for growing his facial hair in such fashion as it, and he, was wasted in the inflated The Hateful Eight (2015).

On the Scariest Film of the Year with Before the Flood

Ten years ago Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth sought to raise awareness of the dangers of global warming. Now, Fisher Stevens and Leonardo DiCaprio and treading the same ground, albeit in a more shocking and less pie chart way.

Before the Flood is beautifully bookended with a story of a tableaux DiCaprio had in his bedroom as a child. It is a rare insight into one of cinema’s most talented actors and proves his reason for campaigning so long for climate change awareness and for wanting to make this documentary. It also offers us a neat guide to where this documentary thinks we are and where we are going. It will come as no surprise that since Gore the situation has only worsened. DiCaprio himself describes his own view as that of a sceptic for what can now be done and after finishing this incredible film it is hard to disagree. Scientists offer hope, but only if change is made in the right direction by powerful people acting now. Yet, powerful people won’t act because doing nothing makes money now and, well, the future is the future’s problem.

DiCaprio holds together Before the Flood with skill; he allows his interviewees to speak, maintaining his integrity in his own belief throughout. His amazement and wonder becomes our own as he travels the globe, fully aware that he not the perfect ambassador for climate change, but passionate enough to carry the message and responsible enough to not renege on the role. It is a sobering film and perhaps the scariest of the year for what is changing for the better is changing too slow and recent US elections will only exacerbate the problem. It is a sad indictment on the laziness of most people and the corruption and the selfishness of the powerful that we are still in this situation ten years after An Inconvenient Truth. We will look back on Before the Flood and wonder why we did nothing.

On Jack Reacher: Never Go Back

An 80s throwback in more than one way, it’s never quite clear if Jack Reacher: Never Go Back is taking itself seriously or not. There’s certainly little humour in it, but star and director are both learned in 80s cinema and Never Go Back may be a well-honed homage to the decade’s action output. Slightly bizarre it feels less contemporary than the first of these films, Jack Reacher (2012), which had a much more knowing tone to it. The self-awareness feels missing in Never Go Back, but saying that it has a solid, mostly captivating story and everyone here is so practiced in what they do that it could never be truly bad, or boring. It’s just slightly odd!

On Delivering Revenge in Nocturnal Animals

It would appear that within the world of men’s fashion there a dark forces at work, deeper than those suggested by Zoolander. For Tom Ford has written and directed his second feature, a tale of revenge that delves deep into the corners of the ugliness that man is capable of.

Employing the story within a story trope, Nocturnal Animals plays out part 90s noirish thriller, with a Basic Instinct (1992) aesthetic and part western. Amy Adams is a curator, the wife of a philandering banker and ex wife of Jake Gyllenhaal’s university lecturer/writer. A character we see in flashback and as Adams’ projection of him as the protagonist of his own novel he sent to her as a gift. A book entitled, rather ominously, Nocturnal Animals, the name he gave her when they were together. What you think you see in this film is not necessarily what has happened. 

Revenge is order of the day here and it is delivered in two different, equally impressive ways. The book within the film is one of revenge, the type that is suspenseful enough to get the heart racing and uncomfortably realistic in its portrayal of an everyman whose wife and child are taken in an act of deliberate road rage. As this plays out, at night, on an isolated road, you can’t help but ask yourself, what you would do in a similar situation when faced with savage men (the other nocturnal animals of the narrative). The moral of this disturbing tale of a man who loses everything is not lost on Adams as she reads. We find out in flashback that not only did she leave her ex husband but she aborted a child they would have; he lost his wife and child and now he is expressing the same in a novel. This revenge is scary, yet fictional, and we know that. Ford handles it with the steady hand of a seasoned director, but it is his management of the second form of revenge, the one that catches us off guard that really impresses. 

The slow, steady revenge of the whole narrative, the one that is playing out in well distributed flashbacks and only reveals itself in a final frame is quietly devastating. It is the equivalent of the jump scare of the cat in Alien (1979) versus the slow decline of the actual Alien in the background. The ex husband, who Adams arranges to meet for dinner on finishing the book represents more than just a catch up; for Adams he represents hope, the possibility of repairing damage and a new start for her as her current relationship collapses and she questions her own decisions. The stakes are high as she waits in the restaurant. And waits. For the ex husband never shows; his revenge is delivered cold. He has not forgotten and he has not forgiven and the novel was not a gift, but a punishment. The bow on top - his absence. 

Ford’s script and direction are intelligent and beautiful. It is a film that is hard to forget, and not just for the kidnapping, but more for the lingering shot of Adams sat in a restaurant alone, being punished for decisions she made twenty years ago.

On I, Daniel Blake

In a week when Theresa May announced that post Brexit cuts will leave those struggling the most even worse off, I, Daniel Blake’s release could not be more important. The film that bought Ken Loach out of retirement is nothing short of a character assassination of the destructive qualities of a benefits system rendered complex and esoteric by the savagery of the Tory governments.

I, Daniel Blake does what Loach has always done, which is to show us who we are. His mastery of the social realism genre means there is nowhere for us to hide and our own beliefs are revealed as we watch. And, this is not easy. It is not an easy film to watch, but it is a necessary one. The balance of hope and despair that runs throughout the film, written beautifully by Loach’s long time collaborator Paul Laverty, sets us up for what’s to come, but by no means prepares us. Even for those of us sympathetic and aware of the issues, the ending has the power to reduce you. The authenticity of the writing and performances, Dave Johns and Hayley Squires are exceptional, makes I, Daniel Blake impossible to dismiss. Even if the experiences of the characters are foreign to you, the humanity and the realism should affect all.

Ken Loach has said in an interview that if you’re not angry, what’s wrong with you. I, Daniel Blake is an angry film. It doesn’t shy away from any of the hardships faced by the vulnerable. It exposes it and it’s difficult, but it’s important. We should all be angry, that in the UK today this is allowed to happen while government continue to make life easier for the wealthy. I, Daniel Blake is a record of today that should become a historical document for the future.

On Rage Zombies with The Girl with all the Gifts and Train to Busan

The zombie genre appeared to take a little dip in the feature form following the unfathomable success of The Walking Dead (2010 -), yet two films, falling under the rage zombie sub genre, show there is creativity still to be found in less than two hours.

The Girl with all the Gifts is adapted from young adult fiction, but feels far more adult than it does young. A post apocalyptic world that plays on the fears of corrupted children has an excellent cast and opens with a stunning attack on a military base. After this, the film becomes something of a road movie as salvation is sought. Despite an interesting central premise, there are some missteps in narrative decisions taken before the unexpected and slightly strange ending.

One of the main issues with TGWATG is that the suspense and fear of the opening twenty minutes is never replicated, allowing the plot holes time to shine. It is really only the strong performances that keep the middle third from sagging. A slowing pace is not a criticism that can be levelled at Train to Busan (Busanhaeng), from Korean director Sang-ho Yeon.

Train to Busan is relentless and endlessly creative. Essentially a confinement movie, Busan traps a handful of people on a train with a whole lot of violent, horrific zombies. There is immediacy to the narrative, as it throws us into the action quickly and Sang-ho finds new ways to put his characters in danger for the two hours. This is thrilling cinema.

It feels like a bonus that the characters are also well thought out. We understand them and they have traits that are relatable, which adds to the tension because we care about them, or in some instances, wish their death would come quickly. In all areas this is a well-crafted film.

TGWATG presents moral issues that are well balanced and when a film can do this, it will always have some lasting power. Busan, for sheer inventiveness and doing exactly what you want from a zombie film may be one of the films of the year.

On 13th

13^th is one of more important documentaries that you will watch. From Selma (2014) director Ava DuVernay, 13^th is the history of mass incarceration in the US, argued here as being a new iteration of slavery.

This is a film of numbers that should not be forgot. The statistics are devastating and delivered in a measured tone. The interviewees are angry, as everyone should be, but they have turned that anger into productivity towards a fight for justice; they are academics, authors, and lawyers for the incarcerated, as well as past inmates. DuVernay frames them well against muted, but stylish backdrops and the industrial aesthetic is attractive to watch without distracting from the issue, which is presented clearly with the help of contemporary graphics and an excellent soundtrack. 

As gripping as 13^th is, the message is distressing and you cannot help but be moved by the final third, which highlights, through video captured on phones, the more recent deaths of young black men at the hands of police brutality. The Eric Garner footage has lost none of its power despite its ubiquity. 13^th is so important because of deaths like this. The hope being that the documentary is more than just a source of information, but can actually affect policy change in the American criminal justice system. Criticisms may be levelled at the film due to its one-sided approach (a lobbyist for the privatisation of prisons makes a pathetic appearance), but this approach is far more welcome than a more balanced documentary that favours the argument on the other side. And DuVernay fortunately avoids the sardonic Michael Moore approach, which trivialised the importance of the issue he was reporting on.

DuVernay isn’t alone in currently pressing this matter as she sees the danger lurking in the form of Trump. It is mentioned in the documentary that Bush the first won by creating a fear of the black man without ever saying it and through a short montage splicing together footage from Trump rallies with that from the civil rights movement, she makes her point with shocking precision. The detailed description of how the prison system operates has also recently been dramatised by the excellent The Night Of (2016) shown on Sky Atlantic, this mini series terrifies by illustrating the ease with which the system is designed to destroy lives. Ta-Nehisi Coates’ book, Between the World and Me also explores the destruction of the black body and like 13^th, traces the issue back to slavery.

The strength of the argument here is overwhelming and it becomes clear that those refuting the statistics do so for self-preservation. Neo liberalism incarnate. This is a film to not just anger, but to motivate people into action.

As was said of American Honey, and will be said of I, Daniel Blake, 13^th is a reflection of the right now, as important a documentary as there can be and essential viewing.

On Swiss Army Man

There may not be many more films as weird as Swiss Army Man. Yet, this weirdness slowly decreases as the film, with its creativity and inventiveness grows and the central metaphor becomes clear. The idea of loss manifesting themselves in a corpse that comes alive and offers just what is needed and just the right for the suicidal protagonist takes a while to warm up to, but soon becomes a heart warming and apt exploration of depression.

This is why the ending is so strange. We feel we understand the rules of the world that the Daniels’ have created, and as bizarre as they may be, they are adhered to and therefore make sense. So, when other characters appear at the end and the corpse remains more than just a corpse, the rules we thought we understood appear to have been broken, calling into question the preceding enjoyment.

Perhaps this is bathetic, perhaps there are no rules. Paul Dano’s performance is strong and holds the abstractness together and mostly Swiss Army Man works with moments that are beautiful and wonderfully imaginative.

On American Honey

American Honey is a document on contemporary America. It’s immediacy in style and performance is matched by its thematic relevancy. This is a broken, but beautiful America that Arnold has captured through the eyes of those that will either be its future, or have to survive in whatever the country becomes in the coming years.

There are a few professional actors throughout, with the rest of the cast hired based on their impromptu auditions and willingness to pack up and join the film crew. What Arnold is able to bring out of them with their lack of training is absorbing. There are moments of, what feels like, genuine authenticity in American Honey. As if we’re witnessing spontaneity and that is something so rare in cinema that the film becomes intoxicating.

This ability to draw you in is part of the film’s brilliance. The lingering camera, observing never intruding, positioned as if the unseen member of the travelling sales group. Yet, as intoxicating as American Honey is, it is also depressing as it explores the damaged, poverty wrecked, drug fuelled forgotten towns of America.  The hope in its young characters is negated by the reality of their situation and while the film ends with promise, and it would be nice to think that their path will be one of opportunity, the film begins with the abandonment of the young and this act haunts the rest of the narrative and provides apt commentary on certain political approaches to the post-university age.

The balance that Arnold finds between beauty and damage is handled with great skill and is one of the reasons American Honey lingers long in the mind after viewing. It is a film of right now, in theme and style. The 4:3 ratio reflects the edginess of the characters, allowing them to take centre stage and not get lost in the vastness of the American scenery, as well as setting Arnold’s film apart from other cinema releases. This is an important and stunning piece of cinema.

On The Nice Guys

The Nice Guys is a comedy action that has the enjoyment and chemistry of the first Rush Hour film from 1998. As the action increases in the second half, the comedy is sacrificed, which is a shame as Gosling and Crowe are an excellent pair. Fortunately, their characters are rounded enough to keep them interesting and the story is very knowing of its LA setting and other detective crime conspiracies set in the area. More fun than any summer blockbuster apparently has, including all combined together.

On Needing a Shake-Up with Jason Bourne

Another Jason Bourne film will always be welcome. The initial trilogy with Matt Damon just got better as it went on and the parallel move sideways with The Bourne Legacy (2012) added to the Bourne universe. This fifth instalment, fourth with Damon, third directed by Greengrass is, unfortunately, the weakest of the group (but still better than most Bond films).

That’s not to say that Jason Bourne doesn’t have an important message to tell and it is clear to see why Greengrass and Damon felt the time was right for another outing. Here we find the manhunt for Bourne (a familiar narrative arc; he needs another situation thrown at him) set against the backdrop of information leaks and privacy, Islamic terrorism funded by Western regimes and technology giants selling our information. The landscape for Bourne is ripe.

In this post Snowden, post ISIS world, writers Greengrass and Rouse balance the muddled, uncertain, unknowable political issues very well. While the film starts very busy, it settles down into a solid action thriller. It just doesn’t have the impact, in action or narrative that previous Bourne films have had. Bourne ends the film in the same place he began it, with a new nemesis, maybe, but these films have always been about Bourne, not the antagonist. As you would expect, the action is impressively handled, but has nothing that matches the roof top chase and following fight of The Bourne Ultimatum (2007).

Bourne will always be welcome, but this film shows us that he needs shaking up a bit.

On Embrace of the Serpent

Just because there’s colour, doesn’t mean that black and white becomes a superfluous colour palette. Yet, that has been the case for the majority of cinema, so when a beautifully shot black and white film, like Embrace of the Serpent comes along, it feels like a novelty. Set across two time frames, the latter recounting the story of the former’s diarist, Embrace links the two through inventive, seamless pan movements and the character of Karamakate. Karamakate, as a young man, passionate, powerful and proud is, as an older man and following his encounter with a white man, jaded, tired and exploited; he represents what has happened to the South American landscape following the mining of rubber.

Embrace has a lot to say, and while the writer/director has claimed it has no anthropological value, it feels valuable in its exploration of conquest and colonisation and the message, which is one of Western opportunism, it passes on. At two hours long, Embrace is the perfect length for a film that will be isolating to many audience members. Any longer and people will start to twist in their seats. The performances are rigid, but strangely hypnotic, which feeds into the narrative of drug taking and the important hallucinations that follow that runs through the film. Embrace, an Amazonian road trip is a journey for the viewer, too.

On Independence Day: Resurgence

A painful watch where the only person who has any fun is Jeff Goldblum.

On Money Monster

In 2012 John Stewart grilled Jim Cramer on The Daily Show about CBC’s irresponsible reporting on the stock market, where a reality was being presented to an uninformed public that was not what was actually going on in the stock market.

Money Monster starts with this idea, with George Clooney in the Cramer role and one of the uninformed audience members hitting back in the form of a bomb and a gun. The idea is good and needs a film to explore it. Unfortunately, it’s not Money Monster.

What begins as one good idea with decent characters, moves into several areas and suffers by not really being too critical of any. The blame that should be laid at the feet of 24 news and social networking for blurring the lines between actual and fantasy is where Money Monster ends up, whilst still trying to investigate the stock market. Just last year, Nightcrawler (2015) took this on with impressive results.

Money Monster has its heart in the right place and it is commendable that it attempts to take on as many of today’s problems as it does, but it would be a more critical film if it stuck with the same fight that Stewart took on.

On Living Linklater with Everybody Wants Some!!

If you’ve never lived in America. Never gone to university on a sports scholarship. Never experienced the frat house, then be prepared to want them all after watching Richard Linklater’s Everybody Wants Some!! For this is because there is something about all of Richard Linklater’s films. Something unique. Something about the cinematic worlds he creates that is a far more appealing, habitable world than the self titled MCU.

Every Linklater film has the ability to capture your attention and drive it to yearning; a desirous state where you wish you could step through the screen and be transported to, wherever. We watch Before Sunrise (1995) and we want to be traveling Europe, experiencing first love or lust or just figuring it out; we watch School of Rock (2003) and want to teach or be taught in that classroom and learn to love a subject; we watch Boyhood (2014) and want to be cycling through that perfect American suburb. Of course, none of these worlds are perfect. None of Linklater’s films are vacuous. Behind the smokescreens are explorations of masculinity, of parenthood, of love, so finely tuned that they feel like our own. 

With Linklater’s latest, Everybody Wants Some!! we are presented with a light hearted look at a similar narrative in Peter Berg’s Friday Night Lights (2004). Young teenage men trying to find themselves following success in sport. Berg shows us the end of this process as college football players realize that good in college doesn’t mean professional outside of it. Linklater shows us the start of the journey, before the reality has set in.

Everybody Wants Some!! is a fun film, and as with his Before trilogy Linklater draws out performances that feel observed rather than directed. The characters never stop having fun, but as the film progresses we feel the sadness set in. These young men, so high on life, are only set up to enjoy the next few years and in one final scene, Linklater communicates this brilliantly. Our two freshmen, Jake and Plummer, after a heady weekend of sex and alcohol sit in their first class of the academic year. History and the study of imposed borders are the topic. As their professor begins, their eyes close and they drift off to sleep. Their future being no more than the next four years. 

On Stylish Horror with Son of Saul

Son of Saul (2015) is about as harrowing and impressive as a film can get. This story of a working prisoner discovering the body of his son and desperately looking to bury him not only sees the protagonist fail in his quest, but also explores in brutal half focus the mechanics of the Nazi death camps.

The story is a heartbreaking exploration of silent devotion, as Saul must keep secret his motives in a dangerous environment that looks to end his life at every turn.  Relative newcomer Géza Röhrig is very good as Saul, performing the physical demands of the role well and communicating the helplessness of his situation. He is pushed through life, bouncing from one problem to the next. When first watching, Röhrig may seem to convey too little emotion, especially when discovering the body of his son in a pile of corpses, or watching him drift away on a river as his task fails. However, he is so surrounded by danger that his blunted reaction is, it should be expected, contextually appropriate.

Director Nemes’ method of telling this story is striking. The camera follows Saul around, often from behind, trailing him closely, feeling his danger and catching, in his periphery the horror. The shallow focus also blurs much of what surrounds Saul, keeping our attention fixed on his quest, but not disguising the death camps. It is as if Nemes is saying that pain can be so great it blinds out greater horror. Yet, more than commenting on the second world, Son of Saul is a human struggle narrative and a difficult, important film.

On Captain America Civil War

For years superheroes have, without regard for the unseen public, caused mayhem in major cities, without doubt causing untold numbers of dead that are never seen or acknowledged. Out of sight, out of mind seems to be the Marvel mantra when it comes to collateral damage. There may be the occasional question put to a Superman or Batman or Iron Man about the lives lost because of their actions, but these are quickly forgotten in time for the bombastic final third. 

It is with regard to this issue that Captain America Civil War becomes one of the more interesting superhero films. And that is perhaps no surprise as Captain America remains the most interesting character Marvel has; a man out of time with an ideology that rubs aggressively against the neoliberal one he finds himself living in. The driving narrative behind Civil War is the approach to the restrictions and limitations that are being imposed on the growing number of 'enhanced' humans. The reason for this being two fold. Firstly, the risk posed to America by having these men and women 'free'. As someone comments, America wouldn't allow a nuclear weapon to be in the country without knowing where it is, why would they allow a witch to be the same? Secondly, the accountability for the lives lost during their jingoist actions. 

The argument is set up well, with solid reasoning on both sides making this less a battle between good and evil and more a regrettable falling out between friends. This brings emotion and humour to the action that is so often missing from these films. Civil War is about characters, not about CGI monsters fighting CGI robots, or whatever form the computer deems they take, and it is this that is the failing of so many blockbusters, from both Avengers (2012 & 2015) films to all Transformers (2007 - ) films. How do you expect an audience to care about a mash of computer generated imagery battling it out. Civil War is a smart move towards more adult storytelling, although of course it contains enough to keep its key audience entertained. The action is never far away and, despite being too shaky at times, shows creativity in choreography. There is also an annoying arrogance to the 'heroes'  that seems to appear as standard these days - apparently cockiness and heroism go hand in hand (with the exception of Captain America, another reason to like him). 

While Civil War seeks to address issues of morality and accountability, it does so with a hammer, rather than the light touch of say, Eye in the Sky (2016). There is no room for subtlety in the Marvel universe. Therefore, while the older audience may appreciate the more adult storyline, placating them with the verbal equivalent of flash cards may annoy after a while. Claiming that Civil War is one of the best of the superhero canon sounds like a roaring endorsement, and although it is entertaining and doesn't feel its length, the competition in the genre isn't exactly strong. 

On a Very Modern War Film with Eye in the Sky

There have been war films that have explored the contemporary nature of war. Philosophically, of course, but technologically, too. In Bigelow’s Zero Dark Thirty (2012) we saw the gadgets and the drone footage involved in capturing Bin Laden and comedies such as Grimsby (2016) display the comedy that can be found in drone warfare. However, Eye in the Sky maybe the first truly 21^st Century war film in its detailed investigation of drone conflict. And, in doing so, it shows us the horror and the farce of unmanned killing machines.

Gavin Hood has crafted a thriller of immense skill that balances its many spinning plates like an episode of Game of Thrones (2011- ). In short, the editing here is exemplary. We are exposed to several different rooms around the world and one exterior setting as we follow the decision making involving one drone, one house and two missiles. Guy Hibbert’s screenplay is superb. It does so much, while seeming effortless. It flows beautifully, covering drone pilots, diplomats, politicians, terrorists and bureaucracy without ever appearing crowded or rushed. Equally, this is a script that is morally challenging. Whatever your beliefs about drone warfare, Eye in the Sky will ask you to question them and if you had no beliefs, you’ll leave baffled at the state of modern warfare and ease with which killing can take place.

Hood’s mise-en-scene is quietly mocking as his characters, sat in comfortable rooms or in exotic locations are dressed in military clothing, playing ping pong or sipping tea. His distaste for the politics of death by remote is clear, but not stuffed down our throats. The humour is subtle, but has terrifying undertones as Alan Rickman’s Lieutenant performs mundane tasks at the same time as encouraging (convincingly) collateral damage. This is an intelligent, balanced film that benefits from Hood’s light touch and Hibbert’s well research script.

On Walking a Fine Line with Midnight Special

Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive (2011) is a good film, but it walks a fine line, and it treads closer to it than most films that have gained a cult audience that will only grow with time. When people say that Drive doesn’t work for them, it makes sense, whether you agree or not. The script, in lesser hands, would sound cheesy and the unnatural performances are close to not fitting. The timing of Drive is also serendipitous as the nostalgia for the 1980s at that time allowed the clothing and the music to work. If any of these small details were off, it wouldn’t take much for Drive to fall into the category of quickly forgotten cinema. To see this is action, see Refn’s follow up, Only God Forgives (2013), which falls on the wrong side of the line.

Jeff Nichols’ Midnight Special performs a similar trick to Drive. It plays on our longing to feel nostalgic. It employs characters and dialogue that are so close to frustratingly unclear that, as with Drive, if someone tells you they do not like Midnight Special, it’s easy to see why. Fortunately, the tone of mystery that Nichols has aimed for works, most of the time. There are so many unanswered questions within the sci-fi Midnight Special that would develop the story or characters in directions that an audience would like to go. Yet, we start and end the film learning very little. Instead, in this enigma, we find a father son story rooted in realism and packed with emotion, “you don’t need to worry about me anymore, dad”. “I like worrying about you.” Nichols’ CV displays practice in this area. The fantastic Take Shelter (2011) and Mud (2012), both explore the relationship between fathers and their children and Nichols has a sensitive and light touch that makes these relationships work. The difference here is that he has shifted them out of a world we know and into the confusing world of Midnight Special. But, they’re there and they can pull an audience’s heartstrings with skill.

Yes, this film is at times confusing and frustrating and it walks close to that line. But, it lands on the right side of it and, like Drive, Midnight Special will likely find a dedicated and zealous audience.

On Triple 9

Triple 9 is a decent crime film, but that after 15 minutes it becomes incredibly evocative of Heat (1995) in dialogue and delivery speaks only of the enduring success of Mann's film. Heat may be over 20 years old, but its impact on the genre still resonates today. This is both beneficial in serving as a point of reference for future film makers and damaging as such films live in the shadow of the continuously superior American classic. See Triple 9, then go home and watch Heat.