On Avengers Infinity War

“The trouble with movies as a business is that it's an art, and the trouble with movies as art is that it's a business.” Wise words from Charlton Heston and for a long time a way of thinking which has held true. Isn’t this why actors from Redford to Clooney have operated with the ‘one for them, one for me’ philosophy? To balance their own artistic wants with the financial greed of the studio? Sure you can have Oceans 12 (2004), but I want you to fund Syriana (2005) … Everyone’s happy. Audiences can see fun, but forgettable films, yet there is also a space for smaller, more intelligent films to find a cinema audience.

Well, the issue Heston spoke about seems to have been solved by Marvel. Not in the sense that they have managed to create films to rival Bergman or Bresson (as Ethan Hawke recently pointed out), but that they’ve changed the game and turned mainstream film into a business. Art has simply been removed from the equation.

It is not that many of the Marvel films are bad films; they are well constructed pieces of work. But it is their sheer number and repetitive formula that reveals their business mind and starkly highlights their lack of an artistic one. There is no risk. It is all reward. And this is not what art is about, it is not what film is about. If no one took risks, then the world of cinema as we know it, from day one in 1895, would looking nothing like it does today.

Marvel are not shy about this. They hold conferences that mirror AGMs, where their output for the next decade is laid out for audiences investors to see. Where is the surprise? The areas for audiences to turn for surprising, risk taking mainstream cinema are becoming smaller and smaller. It would appear that audiences have bought into a formula, which is safe and predictable and that is now the majority.

To watch Avengers Infinity War is to find these issues squarely in your face. As a narrative, it plays out like the first half of most Marvel films, just on a much bigger scale. But, it’s not the size of your CGI budget, it’s what you do with it and here they do little that is creative. Yes, the CGI is impressive, but its execution is lazy. The USP of Infinity War – that your heroes will die – is handled with such crassness that even the ardent Marvel fan must, has to be, aware that they are being used purely for financial gain. To ‘kill’ off a handful of characters for who sequels have already been announced at the yearly AGM is disrespectful of an audience in the extreme.

This is not to say that summer blockbusters have not always been about money. Of course, when Jaws (1975) was released and the phenomenon born, ways to cash-in were instantly hatched. Yet Jaws, outside of its sequels, is inventive, risky cinema, whereas Iron Man (2008), the first of the Marvel MCU canon, reveals the same formula we are witnessing 10 years later. Star Wars (1977 -) is only some exception and there is an argument to be made that Marvel for today’s youth will be what Star Wars is to the youth of the 1980s. But the level of formulaic, risk free storytelling (narrative as an investment opportunity) is new and it is depressing. As is the disregard for audiences. Star Wars, as a franchise (even since being acquired by Disney, Marvel’s home) still maintains more of a sense of risk than any Marvel film. We’re never going to see a cliff-hanger like that which closes The Empire Strikes Back (1980), and have to wait for three years, but The Last Jedi (2017) showed their willingness to take risks with story and character. A risk not taken in the Marvel world.

That Infinity War will appear on most lists for best films of the year in mainstream film publications, where films such as First Reformed, Soldado or BlackkKlansman will be absent or lower down the list is a real shame.

Just because it isn’t broke (financially), doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be fixed (artistically).

On Sicario 2: Soldado

A sequel to the 2015 Sicario directed by Denis Villenueve, when announced, did not seem like a good idea. Instead it appeared a cash-in for one the more critically acclaimed films of that year. A natural progression to Sicario was not immediately obvious and the risk of tarnishing the first was too much of a risk. Plus, Emily Blunt, so effective in the first was not on board. Yet, all of this failed to take into account two things: a direct sequel was never planned, more a continuation of that murky, violent world, and secondly, Benicio Del Toro was involved.

Del Toro was, unsurprisingly, great in the first, using his physicality more than his words, plus his association with the genre goes back so far that he brings with him an authenticity to any border cartel film. The hint from the title that his character was moving from assassin to solider should have made this a more highly anticipated film.

For Soldado is great. It does not suffer from its association with the critical acclaim of the first. Instead it builds on the corruption and threat of that world and expands it in new directions, taking Del Toro and Brolin along with it. Without knowing and surely hoping not to be this relevant, the story (script writer Taylor Sheridan) of people trafficking and children being lost in the border wars turned out to be sadly on trend as the Trump administration carried out its most despicable act to date, separating children from parents as they entered America. This is not something you would wish to be realised, but the film benefits from it, becoming a searing account of the damage done by political wrangling behind the scenes.

Like its predecessor this is an intelligent action film, not attempting to race to the bottom for box office, Soldado treats its audiences like adults. There are no easy fixes here or immediate closure. There are moral grey areas and uncertain characters to contend with. Yet director, Sollima, coming off of Netflix’s Narcos (2015 -) finds great tenderness in the violence and corruption and handles it well. The scene where Del Toro and his teenage charge come across a deaf farmer is beautifully rich, and, in other hands, easily lachrymose, a tone not befitting of this world.  

Soldado is one of those sequels where, if it had come first, would be considered the better film purely on timing. As it is, this is a powerful expansion to a dangerous world and the hope is that the third, if there is one, manages the same.

On Mission: Impossible Fallout

The Mission: Impossible films have always fallen somewhere between Bond and Bourne, despite being around before the latter. They are globetrotting films with world ending bad guys and gadgets and stunts. Yet, Hunt has more about him than Bond; he isn’t as unlikable and there is something in him which, like Bourne, feels a little improvised and therefore more interesting.

Fallout is one of the best of the series. It’s bad guys and gadgets are better than we’ve seen in Bond for a while and the stunts show what can be done when you have scope and money. Bond has lacked both recently. Cruise shows why he owns the genre and the revolving supporting cast, with a few regulars, keeps it fresh. Fallout is entertaining from beginning to end.

On Jurassic World Fallen Kingdom

There is something about dinosaurs that fascinates at all ages. Perhaps their scale and ferocity and knowing that they did exist in our world makes them a curiosity more than say a fantasy, such as werewolves or orcs. Something has to explain the constant ability of the Jurassic Park series to generate such incredible box office receipts around the world. Especially when, in this case, the film is bad. Jurassic Park (1993) remains a great film, and the rest are watchable, but Fallen Kingdom is dull. Unable to evolve and break away from what is now a tired formula, the film suffers from too much of the same and hopes by being bigger with the CGI it can hide its flaws. It cannot. And that there is clearly another to come shows how this has become all about business and not, like the 1993 film, about magic anymore.

On The Post & Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

Three Billboards is a meta film, the style of which McDonagh has made his trademark. It is a self-referential world that audiences appear to enjoy, a phenomenon Barthes spoke about decades ago in Mythologies, where he explored the idea that we take pleasure from knowing what is coming next as it provides a sense of safety. An unpredictable world makes audiences feel uncomfortable, unsure about what to expect from characters, which is why First Reformed is not a summer blockbuster and every Marvel film is.

We see this meta filmmaking in Three billboards’ characters who are both a part of the diegetic world as well as commenting on it, as if they occupy the position of audience too. As an example, McDormand’s patriarch screaming to her soon to be raped daughter, “I hope you get raped.” This creates an uncertain expectation of them. One where we assume they can see their fates yet also be surprised be the outcomes. Like all McDonagh’s films they reference their own selves as well as many others in a manner which fosters inconsistency. And because of this these characters are only sporadically interesting. Capable of, at times, powerful emotion and at others, broadly drawn stereotypical gestures which feel lazy and dumbed down. We get them and we don’t and too often is the mark missed for us to buy into the narrative fully. Yet the filmmaking is competent enough for individual scenes to carry great power and the overall effect is inexact filmmaking.

The balance of comedy and tragedy is often off, rendering scenes farcical. The cereal fight/knife/cry for example - with the bimbo stereotype thrown in for good confusion. There is genuine humour in the film (and genuine tragedy) but it comes from jokes that stand alone and aren’t character driven. Funny lines that are funny anywhere. It is sub-par Coen brothers. There is full commitment with the Coens, where characters are built into a reality that is then stretched to its extremes, but maintaining always, commitment to character. 

It isn’t that Three Billboards is bad, it is just too busy distracting us with some humour that is loud and bellowed but really says nothing. A film that does the opposite of this, and therefore received less press attention, but still awards recognition, is Spielberg’s The Post.

The Post works as a prequel to All the President’s Men (1976) and ends where Pakula’s classic begins. The newsroom is the same as are some of the characters and the world of political conspiracy remains unchanged. Unlike Three Billboards, The Post establishes its world and the characters that live in it and never deviates from it, creating the suspension of disbelief that is the mainstream filmmakers goal. The Post is solid storytelling end to end, it does not miss a beat and while it may be criticised for being scared to experiment or old fashioned, when placed next to a film like Three Billboards it helps reveal the latter’s flaws in character and story.

The Post will also serve as an early addition the canon of protest films about the Trump administration, taking aim at his attacks against the fourth estate, the press. There are many lines that, while not being anachronistic to the word created, are squarely aimed at Trump. Interestingly, Three Billboards may also find itself in the same canon as it attempts to address race in a post-President Trump world.

There is nothing really wrong with The Post and the added effect of Spielberg placing it against All the President’s Men feels respectful and not cheap and a fun nod to film lovers in the audience. To create a piece of work that is critical of contemporary issues, yet a period piece that references and enriches a classic of the conspiracy genre is a sign that Spielberg remains a class above many filmmakers today.

On BlackkKlansman

Spike Lee’s BlackkKlansman ends with footage from Charlottesville, where anti-Semitic, white supremacists, echoing chants and rituals of the KKK clashed with anti-fascist protesters in the streets. Included in this footage is the devastating, but important sight of a car running into the anti-fascist protesters. An act which we know killed Heather Heyer and resulted in Donald Trump labelling both sides as bad. This is moving footage, especially when Heyer’s name appears on screen. It is even more moving when anchored by the preceding two hours.

BlackkKlansman is a protest film. A film taking broad and unsubtle swipes at the Trump administration and the racist organisations that support him, including David Duke and the resurgent KKK. Lee has never been subtle in his career, but this doesn’t mean he isn’t brilliant, or masterful. BlackkKlansman is replete with his trademark style; he is here to entertain, but also to educate and the lecture style delivery and symmetrical framing alongside the isolated faces of those listening is again, recreated powerfully, especially with the inclusion of activist and performer Harry Belafonte. Whether you’ve heard it before or not, Lee’s dialogue and the performances here are not to be overlooked. And, anyone who is a fan of Lee’s work will delight in hearing the familiar Blanchard score and struggle to suppress their enjoyment from the dolly shot towards the end, here carried off with more weight than we have seen recently.

Within his script Lee finds the space to address issues of passing, therefore addressing the responsibility we have to fighting these evils. Washington’s character talks of light skinned black people passing as white and Driver’s Jewish office, Flip, admits to passing his life as non-Jewish, a reality he can no longer ignore. Is this a challenge for us all to wake up to a very real and present evil? It’s inclusion in the film is certainly one that raises further questions. Racial passing is a sensitive topic, and whereas a novel like Philip Roth’s The Human Stain (2000) can explore it in intricate detail, Lee places it carefully into BlackkKlansman, at a quiet moment, allowing its connections to slavery and antebellum America to sit there, waiting to be explored further, drawing a line from then to now.

Lee expertly manages the humour in the film, allowing us to laugh, rightly so, at some of the KKK figures without ever forgetting their very real danger. And this is why the news footage at the end is so powerful. For two hours we’ve laughed at some of the incompetency’s of the KKK as well as been shocked by their violence and rhetoric towards black and Jewish people and moved by the historical accounts of lynching and violence against black people. Yet, the film has been rooted in the safety of the 1970s. A fact Lee is very aware of. This may be a protest film. It may be a clear criticism of the Trump ideologies, but it doesn’t look or feel like now and there runs the risk of becoming only a ‘film’. The footage at the end does not allow this to happen. It takes the preceding two hours and injects it into the zeitgeist. It warns us against viewing this as historic only. It reminds that while we may have been entertained, this is real and it is happening again.

BlackkKlansman is the work of a filmmaker who has lost none of his energy or his anger. This should not be surprising. Lee’s work may have been absent from mainstream cinemas, but it is out there and it remains relevant. His Netflix show She’s Gotta Have It (2017) was inventive and felt so much of the time that you questioned how he could have made something so quickly that felt so pertinent to questions of gender. BlackkKlansman is impressive in the same way. There may be the occasional narrative misstep, or questions of accuracy with the reality, but Lee achieves what he set out to. A ‘fuck you’ to Trump and Duke and all those that support him as well as a vital reminder of what is happening in America today.