Monday, 10 February 2014


I was in one of my occasional sour moods approaching this one, wishing that it had rather been 'Dallas Buyers Club' (with overwhelmingly positive reviews here) which has been showing for several days, my attempts to see it having been thwarted by (a) inconvenient showing times and (b) horrendous weather of the 'moist' variety. Hope it lingers longer or comes back in the light of the upcoming BAFTAs and Oscars as it sounds like a 'must see'.

I found this particular 'Robocop' (a re-make of the 1987 Paul Verhoeven 'classic', with Paul Weller in the title role) a surprisingly satisfying romp, much against my expectations. It has a lot of energy, which doesn't flag, and a clutch of stars in significant screen-time roles, rather than the cameos which I thought - notably Michael Keaton and Gary Oldman. Add to that a pretty substantial part in a feature film at last for Marianne Jean-Baptiste after too long a time - though she's hardly stretched in this. Then there's Jennifer Ehle as well as Samuel L. Jackson. The titular character is played by Swede, Joel Kinnaman, and at the helm is Brazilian director, Jose Padhila, the last two names with which I was unfamiliar.

It's Detroit a decade and a half on, where mobile robots are doing the work of protecting the populace from terrorism. But they lack the human element of making rational decisions underscored by emotion. 'Robocop', in his completed state (disparagingly referred to by one cynical character as 'Tin Man' for obvious reasons), was a policeman with wife and young son (cue a bit of sentiment) who's been successfully targeted by a car bomb which leaves his physical body about 90% destroyed, save for his head and upper torso. Keaton, motivated by profit for his company, persuades scientist Oldman to incorporate these surviving parts into a robot to produce a thinking 'super-robot'. (The motivations throughout this film are muddy, to say the least.)  He's then let loose with physical and mental powers for which the Caped Crusader himself would have died. It's then a battle to keep him under control, especially when he's hell-bent on seeking out those who had targeted him.

It's longer than the original film, though still just under two hours. The content doesn't actually linger in the mind for very long, being essentially a vacuous, leave-the-brain-behind, story. Maybe my expectations, being low, enabled me to enjoy it more than expected. But it's efficient enough, with fairly impressive special effects. Reasonable enough to pass the time, then...........................6.

Thursday, 30 January 2014


Taut and verbally dense family drama, with cast of familiar or very well-knowns, which held my attention throughout.
Not being familiar with the stage play on which this is based (screenplay here is also by playwright Tracy Letts) I came to this without preconceptions, which most of a typical cinema audience will also not possess, though I was aware that this was a substantially pared-down version of the theatre piece. (One critic on the radio said that in the theatre it plays for four hours, which may be true but I think there must be some element of exaggeration in that claim. This film is two hours long and it's not one minute excessive.) I also understand that on stage it all takes place within one room, which is here naturally opened up, though the substantial and lengthy quick-fire dialogues do betray its theatrical origins.

Meryl Streep, all guns blazing, is the (medication) pill-popping, cancer-suffering matriarch, dominating proceedings during a rare, if ever before, family get-together following a funeral. She and her daughters (Julia Roberts, Juliette Lewis and Julianna Nicholson  - I was unfamiliar with the last name) form a quartet whose bickerings about relationships and their respective pasts reach heights of bitchiness and spite which I've hardly seen on screen since 'Who's Afraid of V.W.?". One occasionally gets such scenes as a basis of comedy but not so often in straight dramas - and I loved it! Though it's the women who determine the contours of the story, present for much of the time and drawn into its tawdry contentions are Ewan McGregor, Benedict Cumberbatch and, like an anchor of sanity, Chris Cooper.
The big 'set-piece' is the post-funeral dinner in which stored-up and festering 'hometruths' (as seen from the speakers p.o.v.) come tumbling out at the slightest provocation, especially between the female family members, who say what they mean and what they really think, as though for the first time. Rather than clearing the air the revelations shift the family's dynamics big-style.
Meryl Streep delivers as only she can - and we've long since come to expect no less. But I was most surprised and impressed by Julia Roberts. I never knew she was capable of portraying such depths of emotion and wildness as she does, really letting her hair down when called for.

I believe that by reducing the original play's length the film's focus on the mother character has been amplified, and that in the theatre it's more of an equal-handed ensemble affair. But I can only judge it as a cinema piece.
I liked it a lot, with no serious reservations, and would happily sit though it again. I award it .................................7.5 

Tuesday, 28 January 2014


All very deja vu, but thanks to taut direction by Kenneth Branagh, reasonably gripping.

The Jack Clancy-created character, Jack Ryan (Chris Pine), in an original story (though hardly original for film) is recruited by CIA senior, Kevin Costner (long time, no see), and discovers that Russian money has been poured into purchasing American stocks and shares, whereupon he is assigned to go to Moscow to root out why. There he meets the Russian who turns out to be, predictably, the arch-villain (played by Branagh himself, unsmiling, stiffly patriotic and complete with nefarious-sounding accent) and from there on it's a game of cat-and-mouse as Ryan attempts to get into the Russian's computers to find out what's really going on.
Keira Knightley plays the romantic interest whose curiosity about Ryan's secrecy (Does he have another woman? Heavens, NO!) pulls her into the centre of the action. But she remains essentially a peripheral figure, not having that much to do, aside from distracting the Branagh character during a meal, so allowing Ryan to get on with his treasure hunt quest.  

The whole film is so reminiscent of all those cold-war espionage thrillers (plus a good dose of 'Mission Impossible'). We get furtive meetings on benches in public areas, whisperings galore, instructions and communications through ear-pieces, surreptitious hand-transfers of information and evidence, 'goodies' who turn out to be 'baddies', car chases (plus a motor-bike pursuit), bombs with a helpful digital timer counting down to zero, hacking into computers while on the edge of being discovered, CIA operatives (all disconcertingly young) with lightning-speed typing skills (never a single mistake) - it's all here, and which of them have we not seen before? (Btw: Why is it that when a person, masquerading as an anonymous member of the public, 'accidentally' bumps into someone, the latter never checks immediately afterwards that his wallet is still in his possession? Don't these people ever go to the cinema?)

During the course of the film I did find myself being fairly entertained, though when it was over it all seemed  insubstantial and memory-disposable. Efficient enough, then, but not a contender for my 'Best of 2014' list................5.5.

Monday, 27 January 2014


Any film by the Coens is an 'event' for me - and here, boosted by the presence of hot-as-hell Oscar Isaac in the title role, it was looking good. Unfortunately the frequent appearance of cat(s), of which I've been long since aware, transformed a lot of the eager anticipation into apprehension. As it turned out, apart from just one short but heart-stopping scene involving said feline, there was little to have been too nervous about, though that particular incident did cut deep. And because a cat keeps re-appearing at various points during the film it was not possible to let it go. But I accept that most of a typical audience won't be distracted by this as much as I was.

I never knew the name of Oscar Isaac till now but I see that he has had minor roles in two or three films I've seen (almost certainly without that magnificent face-fur), including that folly of Madonna's, 'W.E.'.

In this one he plays the surviving member of a locally fairly renowned singing duo, in Greenwich Village over a few days in the deep Winter of 1961. (Lots of smoking in this film, as there would have been around then.) Trying to further a solo career we see him singing in clubs and elsewhere a number of songs (largely pretty good, I thought), accompanying himself on guitar. (All Isaac's own singing.) Circumstances thwart his attempted progress at every turn. But his personal life is a mess as well. It's noteworthy that he seems to take more care of the cat he befriends and has to carry around than any beings of the human variety. Carey Mulligan ('The Great Gatsby', 'Shame', 'Drive', 'An Education'), of whom few of us had heard until a very few years ago, turns in another highly impressive performance, as his one-time relationship turned sour, for reasons I shan't divulge. Mention should also be made that one Justin Timberlake is in the cast. Also, the ever-reliable Coen Brothers'  frequenter, John Goodman, appears in a minor-ish role.

What I like most about Coen films is their quirkiness. This one has some deliciously funny dialogue, but the 'quirks' are sporadic rather than being sustained for the film's entire length, as they did manage to be in just about all of their films up to and including 'The Big Lebowski'. Since then, although their films have definitely still been worth a watch, sometimes two watches, I don't think they stand for the multiple viewings that their earlier films can bear with ease. If 'Inside Llewyn Davis' doesn't quite come up to the standard of entertainment that I yearn for them to return to, it's not so far short of it..............................7.5

Tuesday, 21 January 2014


I didn't think this film was anything like as remarkable as some opinions had led me to believe. With Martin Scorsese's name to it most people, including me, would automatically sit up and pay attention. Without his name I think this film would quickly have been forgotten.

Between Leonardo DiCaprio's lead character's rocket-like ascendancy to the stratospheric heights of wealth (through stock market fraud and bribery) and his inevitable fall, the film's drama is curiously inert. The attenuated central section is a plateau of excess marked by frequent drug-taking and debauchery, in which unclothed female bodies are everywhere in evidence yet male participation is only cursorily depicted, if at all (and coyly at that) - all illustrated by flashy lights, quick jump-cuts and brash, pumping soundtrack, obviously reflecting the effects of the copiously ingested drugs. The absence of any arresting development is broken only by our witnessing the falling apart of DiCaprio's marriage, which is itself as predictable as ABC.
At a full three hours the film is too long by far. After DiCaprio, with his slick telephone sales technique, has recruited his handful of loathsome, bratpack young cronies, without a single redeeming feature among them, we quickly get the point, as his office expands into a hundred or so employees whose sole conscience is dependent on making more money for themselves and the firm, where nary a sentence can be uttered without the obligatory f-word - as well as (naturally) regular 'c/sucker's and a few 'fag(gots)'. After the 'boss' has reached his pinnacle of greed it's only a question of waiting to see how and when he gets his comeuppance. But it's a long wait - and a not especially interesting one at that. (Even when it eventually happens I was expecting he'd be punished with something rather more severe).
There's only a little bit of physical violence, once to the DiCaprio character's wife in long-shot and another, being the sole instance which results in the appearance of blood, is that inflicted on a marginal figure, the only character in the film who, significantly or otherwise, happens to be gay.

Comparisons with certain other films are plain. In terms of location, milieu and script it is not a million miles removed from 'Glengarry Glen Ross', which is also stuffed with many of the same 'cuss words'. I'm familiar with both the original stage play and the successfully expanded film version of 'Glengarry' and there's no doubt to my mind which is the superior in terms of drama, construction and screenplay - and it's not 'Wolf'.
DiCaprio's other recent equally frenetic offering was, of course, in the recent Laz Buhrmann version of 'The Great Gatsby' - and once again it's the latter which takes away the honours, not least because the ups and downs of F.Scott Fitzgerald's intensely interesting story is something to which this vapid film cannot hold a candle. And Buhrmann's direction is far more involving than Scorsese's approach of 'sit back and watch'.

I have to say that DiCaprio is really good here in 'Wolf'. Since the time he began to be noticed some 20 years ago I always regarded him as being a bit stiff, but here he shows himself in total command, displaying a range of which I never knew he was capable.
I didn't know any other of the actors (well, apart from Matthew McConaughey, who disappears not far into the film - and Joanna Lumley in a small role!) so I don't find it so easy to divorce them from the almost exclusively odious characters they are portraying.

I don't think 'Wolf' is anywhere near the best that Scorsese's capable of nor what he's achieved to date, and I can't see this one being listed as being one of the greatest in his catalogue. But if I'm wrong, I'm wrong. Meanwhile...............................5.5/10

Wednesday, 15 January 2014


This is the third film I've seen on the trot in which human suffering is to the fore. At least this one, coming in at under two hours, doesn't have the near-epic length of either 'Mandela' or '12 Years', so that's a plus. Unfortunately there aren't that many more 'pluses'.

Based on a true story, (aren't they nearly all?), Colin Firth plays an English survivor of a Japanese-run POW workers unit forced to build a railway in Burma during WWII ('Bridge on the River Kwai' territory.) We first see Firth a couple of decades later approaching late-middle age, as a steam railway buff, chance-meeting Nicole Kidman in a railway carriage in England, Kidman having yet again to adopt an English accent, which she always does very well. In no time at all they're married, he having kept in the dark from her his periodic flashbacks to wartime experiences, reflecting his barbaric treatment by a particular one of his Japanese tormentors, who is also the group's only translator. The action switches back and forth between his Burma experience (the young Firth character played by Jeremy Irvine quite convincingly) and later complications with his wife who is desirous to know the truth of what happened though he is reluctant to reveal it. We do actually see the treatment to which he is subjected. (One more difficult watch!) He has also kept contact with other survivors, one of whom is unassumingly played by Stellan Skarsgard (who was one of Firth's co-lead players in 'Mamma Mia'!). Skarsgard's low-key and measured performance seems to me a bit at odds with how the film develops concerning his character, though it might have been intended to be a case of 'holding it in' as Firth's character was also trying to do. When Firth is informed that his Japanese torturer is also still alive he becomes intent on seeking revenge.

I haven't seen any of director Jonathon Teplitzky's other films, none of which is particularly well known. I didn't think this was actually bad, just rather not special enough for the story it tells. And if it hadn't been based on fact I simply would not have believed the heavy sentiment of the very final scene, though I concede that it might well have taken place.

One to wile away a little time, then, but without it lingering in the mind anything like yesterday's did. I give it a...............6.

Film: '12 YEARS A SLAVE'

I approached seeing this film with considerable foreboding, having heard how gruelling are several of its scenes. My apprehension was well-placed. This is one of the most harrowing films I've ever seen. In fact, outside the horror genre, it could well be the most. At least with horror, even at its goriest, there comes a point where it becomes so ridiculous as to be laughable. Not so here, by a long chalk.

British director Steve McQueen has now begotten a consecutive trio of distressingly hard-to-watch films ('Hunger', 'Shame') - this latest one being the toughest to sit through.

 '12 Years....' has just won the Golden Globe award for 'Best Drama', and I wouldn't argue with that. But as to it being in the classification of  'entertainment', that is hardly an appropriate word.

The ever-fine Chiwetel Ejiofor plays a well-connected, respected and comfortably well-off, New York husband and father who is tricked into visiting Washington under the pretext of displaying his violin-playing skills. There he is drugged, kidnapped and sold off as a slave, firstly to a half-sympathetic Benedict Cumberbatch, then to the cruel and sadistic Michael Fassbender with his equally scornful white foremen and his dismissive family who regard all their slaves as being their property to do with what they will. The kidnapped victim's protestations about who he actually is are contemptuously dismissed and he quickly learns that in order to survive his appalling situation he has to accept his imposed-on new identity, suppress his true feelings and try to stand apart from the horrific suffering around him. The internalising of emotions captured by lingering shots of his motionless face during unspeakable acts of savagery meted out to him and other slaves is extraordinary.

Throughout the film all colours are subdued with many scenes being dimly lit.
I don't wish to give away the vicious severity of incidents depicted, save to say that this film scored very high on the number of times I flinched or had to look away from the screen.
I saw Spielberg's 'Amistad' just the once when it was released in 1997, another film with a slavery scenario. Scenes from that film have haunted me for the last decade and a half. '12 Years a Slave' goes quite a way beyond that and I know that I will be unable to dismiss recollections of it for the remainder of my life. If such scenes were to be shown on TV I'd be changing channels - and I could only survive this one by telling myself that what's on screen is not real, even though the events depicted are based on reality as documented in Solomon Northup's (Ejiofor's character) own book.

I found all the cast remarkable. In the recent 'Golden Globe' awards the 'Best Actor' category was won by Matthew McConaughy for 'Dallas Buyers Club', a film which hasn't opened here yet. Having pipped Ejiofor, surely his closest rival for the award, I can only assume that McConaughy must have produced something truly astonishing, which I really look forward to seeing.
In '12 Years' it might be said that the appearance of Brad Pitt in a couple of late final scenes was distracting.  So it was, but it was a distraction I welcomed in helping bring me back to my own reality.

I don't seriously think that many people who see this film will afterwards just shrug their shoulders in 'so what?' style, consigning it to their memory banks along with all the other films they've seen. It does stand out, heart-breakingly so. If I'd had the choice I would have preferred not to have seen it, as the memory will linger with some pain. But there's no denying that it is a significant film, and for that reason should to be experienced by anyone who loves the medium of the cinema.

It would be impossible, despite my own having been put through the mill, to endorse this film with anything less than an......................8.