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!