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. 

On One of the Most Deserving Best Picture Winners with Spotlight

When The Revenant won an Oscar for Best Director, it felt right to reward the technically impressive Western, revenge picture. However, the thought of The Revenant winning Best Picture felt just a little incongruous as when you strip it down to its narrative, this is a simple story, built around simple characters, all well executed. 

Yet, Spotlight, Tom McCarthy's exploration of the Boston's Globe story on abuse and corruption within the Catholic Church is a deserved Best Picture winner. This is difficult subject matter and a narrative that requires attention and demands respect. These are qualities that you would expect any film being rewarded such a high honour to possess and with Spotlight, we will not be looking back in 10 years on this as an undeserving winner, in the way we speak about Braveheart (1995) for example.  

Spotlight is quietly terrifying, both in relation to how endemic the abuse was within the Catholic institution and how powerful the church is in being able to make such allegations disappear from public interrogation. This is why Spotlight is so important and why it is so important that it win Best Picture. For the record, Philomena (2013) does a great job in making a similar criticism. The Catholic Church should be open to interrogation and probing and as answerable in the same way government is (in an ideal world). Yet, it closes itself behind a heavy door of history, claiming a greater sense of itself for having inventing it. That a film that is explicitly about this corruption can win the most coveted film award and be critical against an institution that is well practised in covering up their faults is important. For these reasons, and many more that are on screen, Spotlight is one of the most deserving Best Picture wins. 

On the Medium is the Message with The Big Short

Falling somewhere between Margin Call (2011) and a Christopher Guest mockumentary, The Big Short is an unusual cinema experience. Part traditional narrative, part to camera fourth wall breaking narration in style and in genre a mix of comedy and tragedy, it is impossible to second-guess how The Big Short will unfold. This is certainly something only cinema could achieve as the text from which The Big Short is inspired has only one method of delivery – the page. So, the medium is message as McLuhan taught us, but unfortunately here, the relationship is one sided and the message becomes lost in a busy, frustrating exploitation of the medium. Cinema can, and should be used for experimenting with storytelling, but here the message is the financial corruption within Wall Street that led to the 2007-08 crash that crippled thousands of ordinary savers worldwide. There are few more important stories to tell in the 21^st century and The Big Short deserves a less fractured narrative in the telling of this story. Perhaps this will appeal to a younger audience who feel disconnected from words like austerity and crisis and need educating and this is no bad thing, but from a cinema point of view, the aforementioned Margin Call was a greater piece of storytelling whilst passing along the same message. No film that seeks to criticism and satirize those responsible for the crash is bad and The Big Short has its heart in the right place, but a style that one could settle into may have benefitted in this instance.

On Creed

The Hateful Eight (2015) received many glowing reviews, even being referred to as a masterpiece. The masterful score and opening shot of a crucifix promise much that the following three hours do not deliver. Yet, what is particularly confounding about The Hateful Eight are the allusions that have been made to the film as a comment on contemporary racial issues in America. If these links exist in Tarantino’s western they are tenuously commented on by critics too eager to see an angry black character in a sea of white and jump.

However, there is a one film, arriving only a few weeks after The Hateful Eight that does offer a commentary on black lives in modern day America and it arrives within the unlikely franchise that is Rocky. The film, of course, is Creed.

Creed follows the son of Apollo Creed from the early Stallone films as he is born fatherless and brought up in inner city foster care, violent and resentful of the system, unable to back down when challenged nor accept help when offered. An issue that is true of many young inner city boys. When Creed leaves the inherited wealth of Los Angeles to train in Philadelphia we see a side to life in America that isn’t regularly offered by big budget franchise films. There is an gritty authenticity to these scenes that make up the middle part of the film that are missing elsewhere and that is perhaps because director Ryan Coogler is more at home on those streets. There are scenes that feel improvised or spontaneously caught, a comment you could rarely aim at such a big budget film. Coogler’s first feature, Fruitvale Station (2013), is an examination of the death of Oscar Grant in San Francisco, perhaps highlighting that his focus for Creed is an ideology he wishes to push. Character matters to Coogler. More than falling back into the safety of a popular franchise.

The film isn’t about Creed’s ethnicity, but through his journey there is a commentary on the struggle of inner city teenagers that is communicated through Coogler’s roaming camera that observes rather than judges his characters and extras. A scene with Philadelphia bikers surrounding Creed as he trains feels both magnificently staged and genuine. Creed may start hesitantly and end as you might expect, but in between this is a great piece of film making.

On Challenging Form with The Revenant

What to say about The Revenant that has not already been said? Stunning photography that takes advantage of the landscape’s big skies and seems to come directly out of a McCarthy novel. You could walk away thinking The Revenant is what an action film made my Terrence Malick would look like, especially in its rare, but beautiful dream sequences that evoke Malick’s unique way of seeing.

The performances driven out of the actors by the brutal weather conditions have rawness to them; they are not acting cold, soaked and filthy, they are in that state and as their hands tremble any attempt to control them is legitimate. As he did with Birdman (2014), Iñárritu employs his long takes and invisible cuts to good effect, not quite as he did with Birdman, but then that had a mostly fixed location whereas The Revenant roves. Yet, the long takes work, demanding more from his actors, who deliver, and bringing new life to his action sequences. The three main action set pieces are literally breathtaking and shocking in their immediacy and relentlessness. They also make perfect use of CGI because it becomes hidden in the story, instead of being the story.

It is a good job that this film is impressive on so many levels and has the talent it has behind and in front of the camera because the narrative is slim and in lesser hands, would not captivate. Yet, like Boyhood (2014), like Birdman, like Gravity (2013), The Revenant is a new film that is experimenting with form and the results are worth the long running time.