On Ready Player One

CGI has meant cinema can explore stories it previously could not. George Lucas once said that he had not imagined being able to make (and some wish he never had) Star Wars Episodes I, II and III before he saw Jurassic Park (1993). As it was only then that he saw the technology had caught up with his vision. The Matrix (1999) and Avatar (2009) provide other key moments in American cinema’s use of CGI. In these examples there are those that mix CGI with actual locations and those that create entire CGI worlds. Some do both in the same film. Ready Player One may be another key moment, where CGI combines with that other creator of imaginary worlds, the games industry. Unlike Avatar, which espouses technology over story, Ready Player One comes from the master of American childhood and a cult novel by Ernest Cline and therefore the, at times, relentless CGI matched with an almost impossible rate of 80s referencing is anchored by a story that is timeless and delivered with absolute skill. Ready Player One is sometimes hard to absorb. It’s big, busy and loud and so full of detail that it is hard to consume. But this world is only one part of Ready Player One, the virtual reality world. The other world, ours, this one, but in the future has gone in a direction that feels very possible and therefore a desire to escape is not only believable but understandable. All of this gives the CGI world weight. There is a strong story here about growing up, about our future and, despite its reliance on technology, on the dangers of losing ourselves to it. It may not look like it, but this is a film that balances story and technology perfectly.

On Solo: A Star Wars Story

It was announced after the disappointing box office of Solo: A Star Wars Story that Disney would slow down with their planned Star Wars output through fear of over saturation. It is a shame that this announcement is attached to Solo because despite its publicised trouble production, this spin off, much like Rouge One (2016) proves better than the continuation of the original narrative. Solo exists in an era of this world that many won't have experienced and this unfamiliar familiarity is a nice place to find ourselves. The representation of Han Solo is the same; recognisable without being an imitation. This is a view of Solo we can believe became the man we know so well. The heist genre, with its twists and turns and moral shades of grey is well referenced and the film also manages to pull off some genuine surprises. It appears that a little freedom away from characters and narratives that are so well loved, to the point of obsession, leads to stronger Star Wars films, which doesn't lead to much hope for Episode IX.

On Mowgli: Legend of the Jungle

Andy Serkis' adaptation of Kipling's The Jungle Books attempts to take the stories away from the familiar, Disney roots where bears have an incredible knowledge of musical genres outside of their environment and back to Kipling's more wild, lawless parables. Mowgli: Legend of the Jungle (moving away from the original title to avoid confusion with Favreau's 2016 Disney remake) adapts the familiar stories: Mowgli's Brothers, Kaa's Hunting and Tiger! Tiger! into one narrative. So, what is left is Disney's The Jungle Book (1967) with no songs and more aggression. Serkis makes great use of a technology that he has been at the forefront of, which is motion capture. The Indian jungle is also wonderfully rendered. Legend of the Jungle, however lacks substance as it is let down by a perfunctory script. Most of the voice actors bring life to their respective animals, although Cate Blanchett's Kaa is a misstep in direction and unfortunately, the young actor playing Mowgli lacks the ability to convey the emotions he is tasked with. It is an impressive, but forgettable film.

On The Ballard of Buster Scruggs

For a few years Netflix have struggled to repeat the quality of their TV series’ and documentaries in feature film. But, what began with Noah Baumbach’s The Meyerowitz Stories (2017) (their first good film) has snowballed into their Autumn/Winter output: Outlaw King (2018), The Ballard of Buster Scruggs and the upcoming Roma (2018), which early reviews would suggest is very good.

The Ballard of Buster Scruggs finds the Coen brothers on familiar ground, the western. Joel and Ethan Coen are certainly ‘up there’ with some of the most consistently good, often brilliant, American film makers, so it is no surprise that Buster Scruggs is good, but it is welcome to find that it is excellent and one of their finest. Unlike their other films, Buster Scruggs is not a single narrative, but instead a portmanteau of short stories that share one significant feature in common: The American west.

Each of the stories, which begin and end with an unseen reader looking through a book, are connected by a love of the landscape and an awareness of the history and mythology of the time. Therefore, we find, in each story, the familiar and generic delivered in ways which are fresh, funny, violent, fantastical and much more. There is the gold prospector, the caravan moving across states, the Native American attack, the gunslinger, the coach, the bank robber. In each of these we find invective ways of telling old stories.

This is first a film that you first fall for with your eyes. It is shot with love. Each setting, each piece of landscape, recognisable from so many other Westerns could be framed and put in a gallery. A second common theme is that of the oral tradition and here we find the Coens in more familiar territory. From Fargo (1996) to No Country for Old Men (2007), stories as a main form of communication, the notion of the hearth, is core to their narratives and in each of Buster Scruggs’ stories we find tales being told. These could be musical, as with O Brother, Where Art Thou (2000) or seemingly, at first, insignificant, but to which you must pay attention. The Coens’ films are rooted in myth and here it is the myth of the American West.

The Ballard of Buster Scruggs is masterful and demands repeat viewing.

On Widows

Widows is a curious piece of work. Curious as a choice of feature film to follow up the award winning 12 Years a Slave (2013) and curious in its mix of styles and themes. As you would expect from McQueen, every frame is carefully constructed, which is what raises the material from feeling like it was made for TV. Although this comparison is perhaps only present due to Widows’ previous adaptations. Regardless, McQueen’s shot choices are masterful. Whether it is his use of mise-en-scene to build character and narrative or his shots which are stylish because he knows how to be.

Widows, as a heist film, is also curious as the heist takes a back seat to two more prominent themes. That of female empowerment and an examination of a city and politics that borders of the sociological, similar to aspects of David Simon’s The Wire (2002-2008). Firstly, this is not Ocean’s 8 (2018), where James Bond style women glide their way through an unbelievable scenario. The widows of Widows are conflicted, angry, sad and driven by a threat of violence and relative poverty. This immediately makes for a more interesting dynamic.

Familiar to the genre, Widows is full of twists and turns, but these are muted and the feeling is that McQueen wanted them to be less impactful than the larger corruption, gerrymandering politics and crime driven politics that drives the film forward, slowly and powerfully. Widows is not a heist thriller. It is far more interesting than that.

On They Shall Not Grow Old

Peter Jackson’s restored WWI footage, a documentary that follows a traditional fictional film’s arc, is contrary to the message that is often presented in war films. Jackson has framed his story with a handful of unseen narrators, all veterans of WWI, who recount their stories of being young (often illegally young) men who enlisted; they explain their thoughts and feelings from enlisting to training, from battle to surviving. In this way, They Shall Not Grow Old follows a familiar pattern.

These narrations are placed alongside footage taken from WWI. This footage is of a ratio no longer used and using black and white film that is now, understandably due to its age, grainy. The first, approximately, 20 minutes of Jackson’s film use this footage and then, with jarring effect we see the magic done by Jackson and his team. The footage has been expanded to widescreen, cleaned up and most shockingly, coloured. Suddenly, these people come to life, but in a way that is not quite real, like ghosts that have been coloured in by someone who occasionally goes over the edges. Technically, it’s is hugely impressive and brings the often discarded black and white footage (discarded for being ‘old’) into the ‘now’ and suddenly and unignorably relevant.

Jackson’s effort here with the footage is impressive throughout and needs to be for the stories told by the veterans’ demand care be taken. Jackson’s footage is delivered to mirror what is being told and here, through the words, brought to life with the images, is where we find a story counter to what many war films tell us. Deaths are not heroic here and neither are survivors; prisoners are treated respectfully, sometimes as friends; training is not contextualised, they know little about what they are walking into; conditions are more terrible than many films suggest; there is no charging run over the top, but instead a solemn walk into, for many, death. But, most of all, this is an anti-war film, a film whose narrators instead highlight the futility, the fear, the naivety.

That is the message we should take away from They Shall Not Grow Old. Not just that these voices should be remembered, but what they say should be listened to. It is a timely message.

On Outlaw King

David MacKenzie has a long a varied career as writer/director. His last three films have seen him work in the prison drama (Starred Up, 2013), the bank robber/western genre (Hell of High Water, 2016) and now the historical epic with Outlaw King, an important story for his native Scotland.David MacKenzie has a long a varied career as writer/director. His last three films have seen him work in the prison drama (Starred Up, 2013), the bank robber/western genre (Hell of High Water, 2016) and now the historical epic with Outlaw King, an important story for his native Scotland.

Set in the 14^th Century, Outlaw King weaves a story of the personal and political together well, focusing on a specific time in Robert Bruce’s life, rather than trying to cover it all. It is a film that is all the more powerful for its thoughtfulness, both of characters and dialogue. There are the rousing speeches and the battle cries, but they come from quiet, introspective Scots, rather than the histrionic Braveheart (1995) like mould. There isn’t really a weak performance in the film. And, despite the success of Gibson’s film, Outlaw King feels its superior in every aspect.

Many of the expected genre tropes are present, and the period is recreated well, with some stunning scenery and ferocious battles, that do owe much to the model that Braveheart carved out. The environment is key here and MacKenzie is eager to show the beauty as well as the mud that almost comes off the screen. Yet, there are aesthetic flourishes that set this apart from being a by-the-numbers historical film. Some of MacKenzie’s shot choices really stand out (see Bruce at the head of a boat) and the restraint he shows in his narrative is equally impressive. This could easily have become a chest pounding, patriotic, sprawling epic. Instead, it is personal, never less than engrossing and finished on a moment of intimate happiness.