For the first few months of this year I wasn't able to get to the cinema at all, since I was working twenty four hours a day as a carer, and was therefore effectively housebound. I am trying to make up for it now; please excuse the lateness of some of these reviews.
Somehow, this one didn't quite fit with its hype; it wasn't that it was worse, rather that it was different. Refreshing in that it played to Hong Kong cliches rather than Hollywood ones, it was boosted by some impressive performances, especially from the redoubtable Michelle Yeoh, who made a great deal out of a quiet, subtle part. Some of the cinematography was stunning, especially the desert scenes and the later cave and river snapshots which made charming references to Chinese folklore. It was interesting to see what the choreographer could do with a Matrix sized budget and a less pretentious, more competent director. Ang Lee showed with this film that he can handle the fluidity of physical drama and conflict as superbly as he handles intimate interpersonal discussion. I was pleased to encounter an intelligent film instead of just another fight show. The fight scenes present never seemed gratuitous (except where they were deliberately so, for comic value). They were beautifully filmed, so that I never found my attention drifting. Not the greatest film I've ever seen, but a fine, thoughtful piece of work, perhaps promising greater things to come.
Bigger louder, faster, more of everything than the original, as we have come to expect from Hollywood sequels; and, as a consequence, naturally weaker, though I still think this was a movie which was savaged by the critics to an unfair degree. Despite its difficulties, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Its principal problem was that it had two many characters and two many subplots, so that it had difficulty bringing them together or properly developing any of them. That, and the kid was excruciating, not natural in the last, though that became less of a problem towards the end when all he had to do was run about and yell occasionally.
Character motivations were unclear. In the first movie, the mummy Imhotep, played with surprising subtlety by Arnold Vosloo, wanted only to retrieve his lost love; so why, now, the sudden ambition to do the cliched villain thing and Take Over The World? As for Rachel Weisz's Evie, whom he had first thought resembled his beloved Anck-Sunamun, what the fuck was she doing suddenly turning out to be the reincarnation of somebody else? This was all superfluous nonsense. Brendan Fraser, however, still provided an engaging hero, and it was nice to see Oded Fehr getting more to do as Arab leader Ardeth Bey, even if one did get the feeling that it might be due to tokenism following the accusations of racism which assailed the first film. One still wondered why John Hannah's Jonathan failed again to respond to the dashing Arab's obvious interest, in what has to be the stupidest move since Sarah rejected the Goblin King.
Unusually, it was the special effects which really carried this film along, restoring in places that creepy feeling which raised the first film above its competitors - the feeling that there's something really big and nasty lurking just around the corner, anmd that the horrors which we can imagine are far from being the worst. The mummies in London provided a genuinely impressive chase and fight scene, and the pygmy mummies which turned up later were scariest of all. That's what action films ought to be about, not wise-cracking eight year olds and improbably big houses. This is a series which still has real promise, and it would be nice to see it done properly next time.
I went to see Shrek by accident. The Emperor Penguin phoned me one evening after I'd spent a long, hard day at work, and I thought I could do with a break, even if the entertainment was only passable, as I expected, having been unimpressed by badly chosen promotional clips. I stayed in the film by accident. After just two lines of Mike Myers' agonising 'Scots' accent (apparently a version of his mother's attempts), whose vowels ranged from Glasgow to Fife to Outer Mongolia, I was honestly thinking about leaving - I didn't think I could put up with that for two hours - but then the animation got me.
Bear in mind that there is a long tradition of the public going gooey over amazing new-style special technology animation which is, in fact, a big pile of pants. The BBC productions The Box of Delights and The Chronicles of Narnia, for instance, were hyped up by the media and the public as being breathtakingly wonderful. Sorry. Those were shite programmes with shite animation, and it was painfully visible at the time. Hearing the hype about Shrek, I naturally considered it a plaything of the same conspiracy. How delicious to be proved wrong. It actually is amazing. Shadows, textures, background movement, everything was put together with scarcely a flaw; there were one or two scenes near the end which might easily have been live action. I was very impressed. Not only that, but this animation was used subtly and intelligently, with great humour, never pushing things further than the technology would allow.
Accent aside, Mike Myers worked well enough in the lead. Cameron Diaz was amazingly good, in a role which, for technical reasons, was extremely difficult; I've only seen her in shite films before, but I've always been rather struck by her; she is probably the single best comic actress of her generation. Even Eddie Murphy was perfect in his part, and didn't manage to irritate me once. This was vital in a story which centred as much around personality and personal chemistry as an adventure-packed plot. Visually, the film was incredibly dense, packed with jokes and references which came across as humorous improvement rather than feeble spoof. Its musical scenes were unusually powerful, its wit remarkably vicious, its central love story genuinely touching. Altogether, it's one of the best fairy tale films ever made, right up there with The Princess Bride.
Ordinarily I love Tim Burton's work, though I did think Sleepy Hollow was weak in many ways, and Mars Attacks! could really have benefited from a stronger editor; on that basis, I had been looking forward to Planet of the Apes for quite some time. Considering the word of mouth I had received from certain sources, and the rather feeble trailer, I was, on the other hand, convinced that I was about to subject myself to something awful. As it happened, the film was nowhere near as bad as I expected. It showcased some truly dreadful performances (poor Tim Roth, never more flimsy, especially opposite Charlton Heston, who squeezed more charisma into his eleven lines than the rest of the actors had all put together) and in places the script was dire, but elsewhere, unexpectedly, came moments of genius.
The whole thing looked like a Tim Burton movie, of course, which was interesting in contrast with the original. I liked the way that the ape city had been built to suit ape movements and lifestyles, though I was confused by the notion that civilised creatures obsessed with hygeine would have built anything so dark and dirty. Helena Bonham Carter, when she wasn't being irritatingly super-feminine and Earth-mothery, was impressive, especially in the scene on the riverbank, which suggested that the story might have been something far more interesting if only the differences between ape and human behaviours had been genuinely explored. Mark Wahlberg was adequate in a necessarily blank leading role. Estella Warren's character rather intriguingly managed to be dumber than Nova despite being able to speak; I was pleased by the way that she was sidelined and never allowed to be more than a groupie, never allowed to overwhelm the hero's reason just because she had blond hair and prominent tits; this was altogether more convincing and affectingly pathetic than what happened with Nova in the original film. The, ahem, liberties which Burton took with the form of the spaceship were delightful, as were his religious jokes, seemingly well enough hidden from the fundy critics. At times I wondered if what I was really watching was a re-interpretation of Michael Moorcock's classic tale Behold, the Man!
After all that, the ending seemed tacked-on and unnecessary, signifying nothing. I'd venture to say that it also made less sense to non-Americans; I have only ever seen the statue in question in cartoon form in an episode of The Simpsons, which served simply to persuade me that Lisa Simpson could have made a far more interesting protagonist. Visually, this film was gorgeous. In terms of the ideas involved, it had a lot of potential. I would love to see this version remade properly. It has an unfinished, making-do quality which only makes me sadder over last year's loss of Stanley Kubrick, who knew how to do this sort of thing properly.
Moulin Rouge took me by surprise. For some time, I had been interested in Baz Luhrman's development as a director, but I hadn't yet encountered anything of his which I actually liked, and I was hesitant about this one; that I eventually saw it at all was something of an accident. Basically, I figured that there were worse ways to spend an evening than looking at the lovely Nicole Kidman in corsetry. Though it was by no means a perfect film, and aspects of it were truly awful, I was, overall, very pleased. This little concoction of feathers and fluff was more than just a pretty face. It had a darker, more intense, more genuinely emotional story than any of the publicity had suggested, yet it retained the energy and spirit of classic cabaret. I can't wait to see what Luhrman does with his next project, because I've a feeling that he's still learning his craft, and that he's going to come up with something really special in the future.
Moulin Rouge was perfectly cast, Ewan McGregor in particular making a superb job of the always difficult straight role and handling with all the necessary conviction a character very different from anything else he has recently played. For once, Jim Broadbent got the meaty role he has long deserved. I've heard a few punk versions of Like a Virgin in my time, but his was the sleaziest of all. Kylie Minogue made a delightfully disturbing Green Fairy. Nicole Kidman was not only beautiful but also charismatic, reminding me of her impressive performance in Dead Calm, with a strength which Hollywood seemed to suck out of her in the intervening years. Furthermore, the film made great use of the musical form, establishing an emotional hyperrealism of the sort that only ever works when no-one's faith or courage falters.
Where the film fell down was in its sometimes weak choice of songs and lack of original musical material, in comedic scenes which were pushed just slightly too far to maintain that essential illusion, and in its pacing, which was, at times, painstakingly slow. Its rich visuals sometimes diminished the impact of the performers, especially in the final number, which could have been much better. The contrast between bright, glossy glamour and underlying misery was impressively handled, however, true to the subject matter (with fine small touches such as the unrequited love of a devoted servant), and the violence, when it happened, was truly horrific. Bold, vivacious, and remarkably affecting.
I've seen this movie twice now. The first time, to be honest, I was underwhelmed - though I liked it very much, it was by no means the masterpiece which I had been encouraged to expect, and I felt it lacked the energy and the confident style of much of Peter Jackson's early work. The second time, however, I felt that I was free to concentrate more on the details and the subplots, and I liked it much more. Whilst it contains some truly awful dialogue and an annoyingly charisma-free performance from Liv Tyler, who makes Arwen seem quite extraneous, it also has its moments of genius, with intricately created sets and superb handling of a cast of characters so large as to give anyone difficulties getting to know them over the course of a two and a half hour film.
What gave the film its greatest strength was its cast, in particular Elijah Wood, who gave a remarkable pivotal performance as the hobbit Frodo. In a difficult understated role, he managed to win audience sympathy whilst portraying the transformation of a youthful, happy-go-lucky character into something gradually, irredeemably darker. Ian McKellen was perfect as Gandalf, making him much more dynamic and vigourous than I had previously imagined. Orlando Bloom brought a surprising amount of personality to the much reduced role of Legolas. Viggo Mortenson was suitably charismatic as Aragorn, and Sean Bean did well to develop the role of Boromir sufficiently, in very little screen time, to make his fall and his eventual ending emotionally resonant. As Saruman, though the character itself was robbed of much of its original complexity (perhaps this shall be rectified in the next installment?), Christopher Lee seemed to have come home to the thing he does best.
The other really impressive aspect of this film was its action sequences. The attention to detail was superb, especially considering that it would have been easy to satisfy an audience with far less. Not only was the initial battle sequence as impressive in scope as any hype had suggested, but the smaller scenes and the choreography were brilliantly co-ordinated. Characters who didn't get very much to say were able to make their personalities known through their actions. It was particularly pleasing to see Legolas played by somebody who could use a bow properly, and, for that matter, to see anyone fighting dynamically with a bow instead of just hiding at the back. The vulnerability of the inexperienced hobbits in violent situations was also convincingly portrayed.
Many of my friends, and professional critics likewise, are swooning over the cinematography and gorgeous New Zealand landscapes which lent this film much of its mythic quality. So sure, it's pretty, but does it have substance? To my mind, the most striking thing about the camerawork was the integration of very simple and very complex special effects, so that there was scarcely a moment when the characters were not believably different sizes. It's these details which are often the hardest thing to get right, and they are of vital importance in making the whole thing believable.
Despite the sections of plot which were cut out of this story, a necessary thing considering its length, it hung together remarkably well. The use of languages was well handled, especially in the background music. There were a few slips, like Gimli's line during the escape from Moria, but generally a good balance was maintained between warm humour and that chilling sense of impending doom relating to the eponymous ring. Personally, I didn't find the cave troll or the Balrog particularly scary, but I thought they worked well. The Nazghul were suitably vicious and creepy. The hobbits were charming and sympathetic without being too cute. On another note, the film had plenty of less intentional humour, and amazing slash potential. And there was a merciful lack of singing. For anyone to deprive hirself of this cinematic experience would be a real shame. Frankly, Star Wars: Episode One, which wanted so badly to be this cool, can go fuck itself.
There are a lot of these this year, to account for the time which I spent housebound; I still have a lot to catch up on.
The Talented Mr. Ripley - slow in places, and sometimes, oddly, too linear, this was nevertheless considerably better than I had expected, sufficiently so for me heretically to declare it better than the French version. ;) I was pleased to discover that media darling Matt Damon can actually act; Gwyneth Paltrow was less irritating than usual (though she has yet to match her performance in Se7en, despite this character's similarities) and Jude Law was perfectly cast, even if he had to do little more than play himself. With a fine supporting cast and subtle, considered direction, this proved far more satisfying and thought-provoking than the usual fare.
Titus - played with proper enthusiasm, energy and anger, and with a surprisingly sensitive performance from the usually hammy Anthony Hopkins, I found this version of Shakespeare's oft-derided play to be very satisfying. Jessica Lange's awful accent, though, I could've done without. Some nice visuals and impressive attention to detail.
Octopus
- obtained along with the above to satisfy the anti-cultural element whilst maintaining a theme (films ending in '-us') this was actually a lot more fun than I'd expected. A masterpiece of tacky US paranoia quite unaware of most of its own stupidity, it started out at a cracking pace and never let up. Plenty of explosions, passionately played stereotypes and an elegantly misjudged monster.Summer of Sam - I'd been waiting a while to catch this one - previous flatmates would not have appreciated it - and it was everything I had hoped it would be. A much more mature work than any previous Spike Lee film I've seen. One of those gems which seems random and wayward at first, but gradually turns up the pressure, drawing every loose thread together to deliver a powerful conclusion.
The Ninth Gate - I'd been told that this was a good film with a bad ending. Bollocks to that. Most people seem to have completely missed the point of Polanski's clever juxtaposition of human weakness for glamour and ceremony with actual obsession and moral change. Johnny Depp does well in a difficult, necessarily blank central role. The mystery of the manuscripts is compellingly presented, and, of course, the Devil's in the details. This is a highly intelligent and evocative film with nobody should miss. The best thing Polanski's done in twenty years.
Eye of the Beholder - an odd little movie which never quite seemed to figure out where it was going; painfully slow in places, irritating in others, it needed a better editor, but at least it wasn't as obvious as most modern entertainment.
Boys Don't Cry - since it covered issues which are very close to home for me, and since it was well acted all round (though I still have my doubts as to whether Hilary Swank could pass in real life), I found this film unusually affecting. A shame, though, that the script and direction were not a little tighter. It might have been something remarkable; it came off as a glorified TV movie with better actors than it deserved.
The Virgin Suicides - successful at capturing the mood of the novel whilst seeming somewhat to miss the point of it, and coming off as much more slight than was necessary considering tconsidering the richness of opportunity. Fine performances though, and it's nice to see Kirsten Dunst finally getting another role worthy of her talents.
Miss Julie - stagey, naturally, but wisely kept that way, sticking to its strong script and not allowing itself to be distracted by a lot of silly additional picaresque shots such as are popular in most film adaptations of theatre these days. The chemistry between the leads is believable; in places their performances are gripping; but somehow, the whole is not as powerful as it ought to be.
Quills - Slow in places, but excellently performed, with Joaquim Phoenix, surely the most underrated actor of his generation, once again on fine form, and even Michael Caine managing to play someone other than himself. Geoffrey Rush works superbly in the central role, but then, it's a good role, with a script much better than anything the Marquis himself might have written, and one which any half decent actor should be able to shine in. Kate Winslet is adequate, except for her inability to keep still, and provides a vital measure of warmth at the centre of a sharply intellectual drama. Although it never quite succeeds in its ambitions, this is a powerful film. It reminds us what storytelling is for. A highly topical and relevent musing on freedom of speech and on the price of liberty in general. Theerty in general. The sex and violence is incidental.
Toy Story II - Bigger and louder than its predecessor, as is always the case; yet, surprisingly, this movie doesn't suffer for it. The scriptwriters have done an excellent job, packing every moment with humour and action, with even their most blatant spoofing maintaining an energy and sympathy of its own, inspiring delighted laughter where most such projects would inspire groans. Wisely, the story is kept simple, allowing plenty of room for character development. Actors Tim Allen and Tom Hanks don't let anybody down. There's a strange lesbian subtext and a melancholy atmosphere unfashionable in modern childrens' films, but even the happy ending manages to be uplifting rather than mawkish.
Last updated 26th February, 2006