On Legend

Mark Kermode suggested that perhaps the title of Brian Helgeland’s Kray twins’ film was ironic as it plays so fast and loose with the myth that has surrounded the Krays. Whether film has a responsibility to accurately represent reality deserves robust debate, but when the promotional material states ‘true story’ and you’re dealing with biography, the advice should be, tread lightly.

Legend takes the route of glamorising gangsterdom, showing Reggie Kray handing out money to the poor, fulfilling the role of the friendly uncle to his East London neighbourhood. The violence, the fear and the crime takes a back seat in Legend to the point where we leave without any sense of the psychopathic thuggery or criminal entrepreneurship the Kray twins possessed. Instead, what we are left with are disparate and disjointed scenes covering many years resulting in a narrative that is incoherent and fragmented and what Helgeland believes to be the most interesting parts of Ronald and Reggie’s lives. This unusual shift away from narrative and towards a snapshot style of filmmaking may be because Helgeland was aware that his greatest asset lay not in story, but in his lead actor.

As the Kray twins, Tom Hardy is phenomenal, with performances that are distinctly different, yet allow us to see the family connection beyond simply appearance. When the film does, infrequently, convey fear, it is because of Hardy. The root of the problem with Legend is that, more than tipping its hat to Goodfellas (1990) it tries to scoop up its style and replicate it. Goodfellas is a studied account of the gangster life that offers us the highs, draws us in only to make the low so damaging, a skill Scorsese repeated with The Wolf of Wall Street (2013). Legend offers us glamour and style and romance of a life choice that should be treated with intelligence and equanimity. 

On Southpaw

For some reason, critics feel the need, at the release of any boxing film, to immediately rate it as ‘the best boxing film since … (insert either Raging Bull (1980) or Rocky (1976)). No other sub genre is submitted to instant ranking in such the same way and it does whatever new boxing film being rated is, a disservice. No film is an instant classic as such a saying in an oxymoron. A classic should survive at least one generation. The two films mentioned above have achieved this label and it is simply unfair to use them as a default barometer for additions to the canon.

Southpaw, directed by Antoine Fuqua, is another addition to the boxing sub genre and tells the redemptive story of the subtly named Billy Hope. Direction and script are solid, yet Southpaw illustrates the emotional pull of the sport. The collaboration in preparation leading to the isolation in combat very quickly develops excitement, fear and a raw connection with the fighter.

In its narrative Southpaw pulls no unexpected surprises and keeps us closely tied to Hope, making this his film and only his. The coup for Southpaw is in casting, for without the talent this film boasts, it would have been easier to forget. Gyllenhaal (now well established as a daring actor), Forest Whitaker and Rachel McAdams are all remarkable here; they hold this film together, making it hard to look away and impossible to root for any ending, but the one we are given.

Forget attempting to rank boxing films against each other; they are not boxers. Southpaw is enjoyable now. 

On Mission: Impossible Rogue Nation

The dictionary shows synonyms of the word rogue to be: dishonest, unprincipled, aberrant, faulty, unpredictable. Apply these adjectives to a nation and you could be describing the US. The powerhouse that is America is being attacked externally and internally and they know it. Yet, it could be argued, only a few within the states recognise it to be a rogue nation.

It’s been clear for some time that this awareness is not in the Marvel or DC studios, as superhero films now seem to serve no purpose other than reinforcing neo-conservative propaganda. They roll out the same narrative a few times a year, so clearly that’s not a concern. In this latest instalment of the Mission: Impossible franchise, entitled Rogue Nation, Ethan Hunt’s IMF team must bring down an anti-IMF intent on causing havoc around the world. The anti-IMF, we learn, are made up by spies that have been left in the cold by their nations after being involved in criminal actions abroad on the orders of their nation (at times the US).

Hunt’s own IMF team find themselves in a similar situation in this film. They are disowned for causing destruction and disorder globally (at last, someone is asking questions about all the death that goes ignored), yet the film never really makes enough of this parallel with the anti-IMF. Hunt is essentially hunting himself, but seems not to realise this. Not unlike the States fighting terrorists without realising they share they same tag. Rogue Nation isn’t quite at the propagandist levels of say, Captain America Winter Solider (aka Snowden was wrong), but with this film, the franchise is moving in that direction; acceptance rather than inquiry.

Like all Mission: Impossible films (apart from the second), this one is full of well-choreographed action and that Cruise is still performing them is impressive. The cold open at the start, with Cruise boarding a plane that is taking off is good, but doesn’t quite reach the excitement levels of the Dubai tower from the forth instalment. The third film from 2006, the last before sub headings were added, remains the strongest in this five-film collection. This is down to the casting of Philip Seymour Hoffman as the film’s villain. It’s not that Hoffman steals the show, but that as the finest actor the franchise has included he forces everyone else, especially Cruise, to raise his acting game. Cruise is a great actor, but has only occasionally shown this. Most Mission: Impossible films bring in solid supporting actors, but Hoffman is no supporting actor and Mission: Impossible III is more than an average action film.

Rogue Nation is entertaining, heading in an uncomfortable direction, but unfortunately forgettable and unnecessarily on an IMAX screen.  

On Chasing the Real Amy

For those who have casually, even cheekily sung along to Amy Whinehouse’s Rehab, be prepared to experience guilt. For the more ardent Whinehouse fan, the art versus life reality of Rehab will be known, but for many, Asif Kapadia’s documentary reveals the torture behind the genius; ‘they tried to make me go to rehab, but I said no’, takes on new, more distressing connotations.   

Following on from Senna (2010), Kapadia has turned his journalistic eye to tell his story of Amy Whinehouse. The footage on offer here not only includes professionally shot performances and home videos, but also video captured by the public and paparazzi as Whinehouse found fame as social networking was on the rise, allowing for greater and more damaging exposure. Kapadia’s narrative is clear and convincing; he sees Whinehouse as a victim of disease and influence and the manner in which he presents his footage (unobtrusive, hidden editing) makes it easy for his audience to agree. Yet, even if we see through the documentary filmmaking tricks and understand this to be his view of a complicated life, what is said, on camera, by those that influenced her life is compromising. Kapadia is skilful enough to present footage that pushes us in this direction or that, while he remainins free from criticism; he simply shows us what is said, make your own mind up. Although in reality, the pacing and the order are helping us along.

Both Mitch Whinehouse and Amy’s husband, Blake Fielder-Civil entangle themselves with words that have proved damaging to their persons and difficult to walk away from. Both father and husband are here guilty by neglect and combined with the savage and mercenary British media Whinehouse is presented as a trapped and scared animal who found some relief in drugs. In this story of abuse, Whinehouse is the victim and the triple threat of father, husband, that the media are the villains. That the tabloid media is still not regulated after the years of incriminating evidence against them is a travesty.

Amy is nothing short of engrossing; she was a magnetic figure and like many truly talented people, a mix of emotions. The film shows her spontaneously breaking into impersonations, showcasing the confidence that would later allow her to stand in front of thousands and perform. There is a sharp humour here, too. Yet, at other times she jitters nervously, clearly affected by the external and internal demons she wrestled with. It is a harrowing sight to see her stand on a stage in front of thousands unable, unwilling or both to perform. The performance becomes all the worse when we learn her own father sent her there against her wishes.

Amy is a sad story that brings greater appreciation of the artist and at the same time, highlights the danger genius can bring. Would you rather have the once in a lifetime piece of work, or the person that created them healthy, but less productive? Surely the latter. 

On Ted 2

Not as funny as the first and with a less cohesive, confident narrative that also suggests too much cutting for the cinema. Yet, worth seeing for a hilarious, eye watering scene in a supermarket with Liam Neeson.

On Finding Form with Slow West, Terminator Genisys and True Story

Cinema, as a form, is exploring and testing many disciplines; some of them rooted in history, such as photography, editing and acting; some relatively new such as motion capture or computer generated imagery. In projecting the three dimensional world on to a two dimensional screen, life and character must somehow not get lost in the transition. An emotional response, of some kind, feels necessary in order to render the experience memorable. Success rates are hit and miss, even for the most practised.

Slow West, John Maclean’s feature debut makes a hit early on with his careful composition and steady character study. His script doesn’t rush and his characters unfold nicely, remaining engaging throughout. His mise en scene is uncluttered, like his story, reflecting confidence in his story and location. Maclean makes this western look easy.

Yet, easy is not a word one would associate with Terminator Genisys. An inexplicable misspelling is not a good start for this messy narrative. Director Alan Taylor, who has worked on some of the best American TV of the last decade, does a decent job of bringing this fifth Terminator film to audiences. There’s simply too much going on here. For some reason, Genisys attempts to rewrite the original Terminator narrative from 1984 whilst telling its own story. Time travel is complicated enough at the best of times. Here, it becomes impossible.

Moving from one form to another, Rupert Goold steps over from the theatre to direct True Story, the story of American killer Christian Longo. Longo’s story is fascinating, but the film is not, which leads to a strange situation. Once Longo’s dilemma is established, it is hard to not want to find out the end of his case. True Story is a film of conversations, so how to make that engaging was Goold’s task. Unfortunately, the performances are too understated and noncommittal and the many scenes of talking, too similar and too often without enough revelation to reward our attention.

Hits and misses, experience and first timers, form is found and enjoyed or lacking and disappointing. Slow West is the one here to seek out. 

On Magic and Jurassic World

In 1993, Spielberg created cinematic magic with Jurassic Park. A film that combined relentless action, real characters, groundbreaking CGI and messages ahead of its time (environmental concerns and cloning). The reason it endures is because Spielberg made a film that appealed to thirteen year olds, both when they’re thirteen and thirty years later.

Jurassic World extends the narrative Spielberg started in a natural direction where capitalism has won out (when doesn’t it) and the park that never was has now come to fruition. Isla Nublar is now a combination of Thorpe Park and a Safari Park, where bigger is better and danger is secondary to money. The narrative progression is appealing and there is something perpetually alluring about the John Williams theme playing over the establishing shot of the island that will always raise goose bumps.

As director, Colin Trevorrow has drawn out strong performances (Chris Pratt is the film’s secret weapon) and keeps the action rolling and at times, the tension high. The reveal of the new dinosaur is a particular high point. Yet, the magic is missing and while Jurassic World is good, it perhaps reveals the great skill that Spielberg is able to bring to a film. The reverberating cup of water, the electric fence, the “clever girl”. These are moments of cinema that will last forever and Jurassic World has few of those moments of real fear and wonder. It is an action film of its time, a time when audiences are wowed by bigger rather than better.

Visiting Isla Nublar will always be enjoyable and the success of Jurassic World would imply we’ll be back, but there is nothing quite like the first trip.