Cinema Review: The Dark Knight Rises (2012)

Hype: it's a blessing and a curse. If a film receives a lot of it, it must be onto something good. But it can also be cruel, building up expectations that no film could hope to meet. When the hype reaches fever pitch levels, as it has for The Dark Knight Rises, there's an even greater height from which to fall, and an even greater potential for backlash from a disappointed fanbase.

The Dark Knight Rises surpasses the hype.

Cinema Review: The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)

As a general rule, the current average cinemagoer likes to know exactly what they're getting with any given film. Anything that's slightly challenging or unexpected tends to face a backlash and invariably slumps at the box office, a few Christopher Nolan-flavoured exceptions notwithstanding. That's a big reason why sequels are so popular - basically, audiences just want the same thing over and over again. The Amazing Spider-Man takes this to the extreme, because it is essentially a remake of a ten-year old film. It retells the same origin story that Sam Raimi's Spider-Man did, covering many of the exact same beats - spider bite, learning new powers, school bully, Uncle Ben, yada yada. The fact that it still manages to feel fresh and interesting is almost a miracle, and is mostly down to the excellent cast and director Marc Webb's more realistic take on the material.

Cinema Review: Prometheus (2012)

In the months prior to the release of Prometheus, Ridley Scott has been trying his hardest to distance his new film from Alien, refusing to call it a prequel. All the early signs suggested a prequel is exactly what it is, and indeed, in the sense that it depicts events that take place before those in the 1979 classic, it fulfils the prequel brief to a tee. However, expectant viewers should retain Sir Rid's comments in their head before watching, because Prometheus certainly doesn't play the simple join-the-dots game that may have been anticipated. It really doesn't dovetail much into Alien, and provides few clear answers to any of the burning questions, such as, "where is the alien from?" or "how did the derelict spaceship full of eggs end up crashed on that planet?" If answers are what you're here for, prepare to be disappointed.

Cinema Review: The Avengers (2012)

It's difficult to think of another film that has been teased for so long before finally appearing, so The Avengers (official UK title: Marvel Avengers Assemble, which I will ignore) has a lot to live up to. Beyond the usual trailers and TV spots, you could say that this film's marketing campaign has consisted of five actual movies: Iron Mans 1 and 2, The Incredible Hulk, Thor and Captain America. All of those films shared to varying degrees an identical problem: none of them felt like complete films within their own right, with that everpresent distraction of The Avengers lurking on the horizon. Laying such groundwork for a future film has been a ballsy plan by Marvel and a first in cinema, but the signs are that it will pay off big time. Finally, at last, here is a film with no obligation to build up to a figurative "To be continued". Sure, there will no doubt be further sequels, but this is the main event.

Cinema Review: John Carter (2012)

Since I saw it about two weeks ago, John Carter has already gone down in the record books as one of the most costly flops of all time. That will therefore be its legacy, rather than the quality (or otherwise) of the film itself, which is the criteria by which I intend to judge it. Clearly greenlighted in the wake of Avatar's success, John Carter's story shares superficial similarities, primarily the central theme of a normal Earthling thrust into an alien world, who then learns to adapt to the new world's ways and cultures. Disney's hype machine have made sure to point out that Avatar was in fact one of many sci-fi stories inspired by the John Carter tale, which is nearly a hundred years old, its origins being Edgar Rice Burroughs' A Princess of Mars, first published as a novel in 1917. The film's original title was John Carter of Mars - infinitely better than the totally bland moniker we ended up with.

Cinema Review: The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2011)

The craze for 'Nordic Noir' has been sweeping the nation in recent times, thanks largely to Danish TV show The Killing - already remade in the US - and, especially, Stieg Larsson's bestselling "Millennium" trilogy of novels, beginning with The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Having already been adapted to film in its native Sweden, now Hollywood has jumped on this bandwagon too. Normally the prospect of an American remake of a successful foreign film is likely to induce groans and scorn, but this time things seem a little different, thanks largely to the man in the director's chair, David Fincher. Never a simple director for hire, Fincher evidently saw a story that he felt able to put his stamp on, and financial backers Sony were only too happy to oblige him, coming off the critical heat of The Social Network.

After the departures of The Social Network and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, this does have the air of Fincher getting back to his old stomping ground of the gritty adult thriller. For those who have, like me, managed to avoid both the books and the Swedish films, the plot revolves around a murder mystery. Disgraced journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig) is recruited by an elderly corporate magnate (Christopher Plummer) to investigate the unsolved disappearance of his daughter forty years ago. Plummer's Henrik Vanger lives on his own island, which is also home to many members of his dysfunctional family, and Blomkvist moves into an empty house there to commence his investigation. Where the titular Girl comes into it is uncertain for a good half of the running time. During this period, Fincher frequently cuts back and forth between Blomkvist and tattooee Lisbeth Salander, their plotlines remaining separate until he eventually recruits her as his research assistant.

The search for an actress who could play this extremely complex, forbidding character - she's a outcast loner rocking a goth/punk look, declared socially incapable by the state, and a computer genius, her frightening exterior hiding a vulnerable, sensitive soul - was legendarily extensive, but Fincher eventually admitted that the best choice was an actress who he worked with in The Social Network, Rooney Mara. Great choice. She is incredible, completely submerging herself in the character, managing to be completely convincing in her every skill and nuance. There's an incredibly fine line to walk with this character, but Mara balances on it like an expert. Noomi Rapace received stellar notices for her original take, but I find it hard to believe Mara fails to equal her.

Fincher exhibits a confidence throughout that evinces justified faith in the source material. An attention-grabbing title sequence that recalls the similarly creative openings of Se7en and Fight Club starts us off with unexpected gusto, but the ensuing opening of the film proper is a little bewildering, throwing several characters at us, thickly accented dialogue (although Craig keeps his own natural accent) and some apparently unmotivated intercutting. Never fear, though, for we are in the hands of a master: before long the plot chrystallises and its grip tightens like a vice as the temperature plummets. As soon as Blomkvist's interest is piqued on learning of this missing girl, so is ours. Just try turning away from the screen during the next two hours.

The cross-cutting between Blomkvist and Salander for the first half does make for an occasionally lurching pace, but the rhythm soon settles down. The tempo feels akin to Zodiac, as does Fincher's masterful use of time-compressing montage, but this is a film whose thrills are more immediate, though no less intense. Its fictional origins also allow its mystery to be solved in a way that Zodiac's couldn't be, and it's a resolution that's unforeseen, satisfying, and slightly convenient all at once. The search for the killer proves, ultimately, to be a little bit of a red herring, as the film continues for a stretch after the big reveal. It is then that the film reveals itself to really be about its lead pairing, whose relationship is fascinating and perfectly judged. Structurally, the shape of the narrative doesn't quite fit the template, but that is presumably down to the source. And anyway, what would Fincher want with something conventional?



Summary
Fans of the novel and/or the Swedish film(s) may have a different perspective, but The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is utterly compelling, and looks a lot like a new Fincher masterpiece. A word of warning, though: its original Swedish title, Men Who Hate Women, gives a clue to its uncompromising content.

Cinema Review: War Horse (2012)

Steven Spielberg has said numerous times that one of his favourite films is Lawrence of Arabia, so much so that he supposedly watches it before starting production on every movie he makes. War Horse is perhaps the first time that Spielberg’s reverence for David Lean has clearly manifested itself on screen. Its moments of Leanesque grandeur – especially a massed cavalry charge that recalls Doctor Zhivago, albeit with less snow – sit comfortably with more intimate character beats, as exemplified in Lean’s epics. Spielberg is a director whose own style is far from anonymous, however, and he adds his signature crowd-pleasing bravado and penchant for sentimentality to the mix. That heady concoction coalesces to form one of the more satisfying films in the director’s recent career, and a pleasing throwback to old-fashioned Hollywood in the best possible way.

War Horse has its origins in a Michael Morpurgo children’s novella, but the catalyst for this film was the acclaimed West End stage play that gave Spielberg the belief that this narrative originally told from a horse’s first person perspective could be transformed into a film. It’s a real weepie too, wearing its heart on its sleeve as to few films have the confidence to do any more; some moments teeter into mawkishness, especially in the early going, but the sheer sincerity wins you over. The story follows horse Joey from birth in rural Dartmoor through battle in the First World War. During this time he is owned/adopted by numerous people, from farmhand Albert (newcomer Jeremy Irvine, endearing if over-earnest at times) – whose father buys thoroughbred Joey despite his being utterly unsuited to ploughing work – who is the film’s main human protagonist, to an English officer, to a pair of young deserting German solders. Keeping its attention for the most part on Joey, the film is unavoidably episodic but it doesn’t prove to be a drawback in this instance as each individual episode is heartwarming and/or gripping within its own right.

Never shy of a barnstorming set-piece, Spielberg delivers some humdingers here. The aforementioned horse charge is superb, as the British cavalry emerge from fields of tall wheat and sweep through a German encampment. There’s also a prolonged detour into the Battle of the Somme, one of the few times the narrative departs from Joey, which, while owing something to Kubrick’s Paths of Glory as with every subsequent film featuring trench warfare, instantly brings to mind Saving Private Ryan: there’s still no-one better in the business at shooting war. Having said that, War Horse doesn’t replicate the gritty, washed out look that everyone copied after Ryan; it takes a very beautiful classical approach, and is probably the most gorgeously lensed film to come from the Spielberg/Janusz Kaminski partnership. Some could criticise it for being too romanticised, with Dartmoor perpetually bathed in golden sunshine, not to mention the most perfectly cinematic sunset since Gone With the Wind, and even the trenches have an eerie, ethereal beauty.

Spielberg may not quite have the box office clout he used to but he’s still a master manipulator of the emotions. He plays the audience like a fiddle throughout, eliciting laughs, shocks, and a few tears with perfect timing and judgment. One standout scene is a quiet one in which an English and German soldier team up to free Joey from some barbed wire is funny but completely natural and human, not to mention really moving, highlighting the basic insanity of war. Seeing War Horse with a full audience is a joy, as the audience gasps and laughs along in unison. Only the best movies sweep you along as War Horse manages to. It never flinches from the harsh reality but remains a cross-generational crowdpleaser. It’s what event movies used to be like.



Summary
Just as with his recent Tintin, I find myself using the word ‘old-fashioned’ when describing Spielberg’s War Horse, but it’s a word I use in an entirely complimentary sense. War Horse is grand, thrilling entertainment, providing the sort of excitement, emotion and catharsis for which the cinema exists.

Cinema Review: Mission Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)

From the classic TV show theme tune, to “your mission, should you choose to accept it”, Mission: Impossible has all the great building blocks of a long-running franchise, but its fluctuating fortunes have followed that of its star, Tom Cruise. In 1996 he was an A-lister, a status confirmed by the success of the first film, while by 2000 he was a megastar, propelling M:I-2 to the series’ highest gross. The third instalment, however, came after Scientology and that Oprah moment, and seemed to signal that Cruise’s days as box office dynamite were over. Another five and a half years later, Ethan Hunt is back again, this time not with a number in the title. There have been mutterings that this is the film where the star passes the torch to his successor, Jeremy Renner, but in fact it’s as much Cruise’s show as ever, with no hints that he’s running out of steam. Quality-wise the series has not conformed to the box office numbers: J.J. Abrams’ M:I:III was an accomplished action blockbuster, significantly improving on John Woo's earlier effort. This fourth entry, produced by Abrams but directed this time by live-action first-timer Brad Bird, continues in similar form. It’s exciting, spectacular stuff, if never quite doing enough to linger in the memory as anything more than an efficient diversion.

The only scene, really, that does linger in the memory is a central set-piece that involves Cruise scaling the outside of the world’s tallest skyscraper, the Burj Khalifa in Dubai. It’s a stunning sequence, vertiginously shot and with a pleasing reliance on keeping everything as real as possible. The series has never been short of thrills and spills – often involving the star dangling from something – and this is one of the highlights. Ghost Protocol’s weakness is in its plot, which gets short shrift, and is a bit of a throwback involving a corrupt tycoon trying to start World War III between old enemies America and Russia, first by bombing the Kremlin and then, come the film’s finale, by nuking San Francisco. The film eschews J.J. Abrams’ personal approach where Hunt’s new marriage was the driver of much of the story in favour of a more stripped down style. There’s barely a pause for exposition or character, barring the slow reveal of Renner’s backstory in a couple of scenes, which ties into that of Hunt. Without anything more to enjoy than a succession of bombastic, effectively staged action (with typical ridiculously exaggerated sound effects, where punches sound like blunderbusses), it gets slightly wearying at times.

The saviour is Bird’s commitment to building suspense, which he does several times to real nail-biting extremes. An early scene where Cruise and comic relief Simon Pegg sneak into the Kremlin with the help of some nifty gadgetry is a great example, as is the sequence following the Burj ascent where Cruise and Renner impersonate two baddies in a tense exchange. The suspense is heightened by the film’s refusal to rely on that old M:I staple of the impossibly perfect disguise, which is written entirely out of the plot. To be honest, it removes a little bit of the fun, but after M:I-2’s exhausting reliance on it, the gimmick does not have the novelty it once did. Cruise’s commitment to putting himself in harm’s way continues to be beneficial, giving the action more of a hardhitting reality than it would have if it relied more on CGI and body doubles (although I’m sure the contribution of the stuntmen here is still extensive). The lack of a good villain, however, proves to be a hindrance by the end; Michael Nyquist probably has about 5 lines and he isn’t particularly threatening as a briefcase toting businessman. The menace of Philip Seymour Hoffman is certainly missed.



Summary
The slightly awkwardly titled Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol is overflowing with first rate action but is slightly lacking in substance to back it up, a drawback that stems from the pursuit of the constant adrenaline rush that audiences seem to expect. Nevertheless Brad Bird’s first directorial effort outside of animation proves that he is, as expected, more than capable behind a real camera too.

Cinema Review: Anonymous (2011)

Shakespeare directed by Roland Emmerich: it sounds like a punchline to a joke, or one of those fake comedy trailers in films like Tropic Thunder. But this one is actually real. Yes, Roland Emmerich, the demigod of destruction, the lord of loud, the man who strikes fear into national monuments the world over, has made a film about William Shakespeare, set in Elizabethan London. Ironically it’s the (undeserved) success of his previous thudding movie apocalypse, 2012, that granted the German director the freedom to make a smaller passion project. Anonymous is the unexpected result, but, typically, it’s no shy, retiring period drama. It has made some waves – though not in the usual Emmerichian tsunami sense of the word – due to its subject matter (amongst the critical community at least; its box office performance has so far been meagre). Anonymous feeds off the faintly ludicrous conspiracy theory that Shakespeare did not write his famous work. According to the film, Shakespeare was in fact a jobbing, mediocre actor who had never even put pen to paper; the real writer of the plays was Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford, who could not claim authorship of the works due to the fact that plays were deemed beneath the station of a nobleman and also potentially seditious.

Emmerich realises that the notion does not in itself constitute a story for a film, so he embeds his thesis within a framework of political skulduggery involving Queen Elizabeth I and her many courtiers and officials. There are accordingly many scenes in darkly lit rooms featuring (mostly bearded) men plotting or arguing, but all the intrigue gets confusing as names and titles fly about with reckless abandon. Further complicating matters is the non-linear structure, jumping about rather haphazardly between four time periods (if you include the pretentious modern day bookends with a preachy Derek Jacobi). Such convolution never seems strictly necessary, just managing to further muddy a narrative that lacks a clear dramatic through-line. Nevertheless, the time jumps do keep things interesting and the brain engaged, even if the questions that arise are sometimes of the ‘who’s this guy again?’ variety, rather than due to any seductive mysteries thrown up by the screenplay.

Fortunately there are numerous redeeming qualities that elevate this well above the director’s last two misfires (10,000 BC and 2012). There are some standouts in the cast. Top of the list is Rhys Ifans, who is nigh-unrecognisable (give his previous roles) as the ‘real’ Shakespeare, Edward. Whether it’s striding through the dark hallways of London or fencing in his hedge maze, he looks perfectly at home and really captures the gravitas and authority of a powerful man in Tudor times. Rafe Spall is entertainingly buffoonish as the semi-illiterate Will Shakespeare, while Sebastian Armesto as playwright Ben Johnson – arguably the film’s protagonist – is likeable, but sports a rather broad accent that sounds odd. A bit of novelty casting in having mother and daughter Vanessa Redgrave and Joely Richardson play Elizabeth I at different ages pays off superbly – in fact the Queen is one of the few characters whose facial features plausibly age according to the time period, given the actors’ obvious resemblance. Another is David Thewlis, who plays middle and old age with equal command, succumbing to not a bit of overacting or implausible make-up to add the years onto him. This only scratches the surface of the film’s lengthy dramatis personae, indicating some of the difficulties in remembering names and motivations.

The visual recreation of Elizabethan London is outstanding in its detail and apparent authenticity, handily surpassing the likes of Shakespeare in Love in realism and Elizabeth in terms of scope – Emmerich has clearly been rewarded with a healthy budget for his efforts and the expenditure is plain to see in the intricate sets and impressive CG vistas. The recreation of Shakespeare’s plays is also exemplary – indeed, the glimpses of performances are undoubtedly the highlights of the whole film, so much so you sometimes wish Emmerich had just made Henry V (seriously). The experience of being in the Globe Theatre with all its noise and liveliness, and people crammed in so close they can smell the actors’ feet, is captured brilliantly, as is the power these plays must have had over the populace. It brings Shakespeare to life in a way that no soporific English Literature lesson ever could.



Summary
Roland Emmerich never quite wrestles control of his unruly narrative structure, but Anonymous offers enough intrigue and spice to keep you engaged. Just take it all with a pinch of salt.

Cinema Review: The Adventures of Tintin - The Secret of the Unicorn (2011)

It’s easy to forget the simple joys of a well-made opening credits sequence. Steven Spielberg’s first film for three years begins by resurrecting this quickly evaporating cinema staple. Refusing to copy the current trend of jumping straight into the action without even so much as a title card, Tintin opens with a carefully crafted sequence, where stylised 2D figures act out a sort of Greatest Hits of Tintin’s adventures. There are hints of the legendary Saul Bass, as well as Spielberg’s own Catch Me If You Can. This is Spielberg indicating he has more faith in modern attention spans than some of the newer breed of directors, content to let the credits gently ease you into the world and atmosphere of the film. Maestro John Williams – also working for the first time since the director’s last effort, the fourth Indiana Jones - may not provide the sort of rousing, instantly memorable march the likes of which made him famous, but he does leave his indelible musical stamp, unmistakable amidst the sea of Hans Zimmer clones who score everything else these days.

Indeed, the term ‘old-fashioned’ comes to mind a lot while watching Tintin, which is slightly paradoxical in that Spielberg is using the most modern and cutting edge of filming techniques to tell his story – namely, 3D performance capture. But it’s old-fashioned in an entirely complimentary sense – as in, it takes you back to when action adventure films were fun and driven by relentless optimism and pure joie de vivre rather than world-weary cynicism. In short, Spielberg’s 1980s output. The Beard himself is on the sort of crowd-pleasing, family friendly form the likes of which haven’t been seen since 1993 when a bunch of digital dinosaurs revolutionised the Hollywood blockbuster. It’s also old-fashioned in its approach to storytelling, concentrating on a slow build to a memorable payoff rather than the constant assault of, say, Michael Bay.

Many of Tintin’s most euphoric highs are anything but old-fashioned, though. Building on, and exceeding, his contemporary Robert Zemeckis’ dalliances with the technology, Spielberg makes at times utterly inspired use of the immense freedom afforded by the new toys. Two sequences in particular are absolute gems. One, a massive Man o’ War battle on the high seas, provides more piratical thrills in ten minutes than the whole of Jack Sparrow’s most recent adventure. The director keeps the camera fluid, transitioning seamlessly from the past to the (film’s) present via numerous creative means that could not have been achieved in live action. The second highlight is the film’s main action showpiece, a jaw-dropping helter-skelter chase through a North African town, which is filmed in one single, continuous take. It’s a genuine stand-up-and-applaud moment.

Aside from the action scenes, though, what any film needs is compelling characters, and it’s only in this department where Tintin struggles slightly. Despite Jamie Bell’s earnest efforts, Tintin himself is bland – perhaps intentionally so, in order for him to function as an audience proxy – which makes the quieter moments, and the times when he’s alone, more of a lull than they should be. Fortunately he’s not alone all that often, as he usually has the colourful Captain Haddock with him, entertainingly performed by motion capture stalwart Andy Serkis. (That’s not to mention Snowy, his faithful dog, who has as much character as any of the humans.) Even the larger performances, though, tend to feel a little too restrained, which may be a side effect of utilising motion capture as opposed to more exaggerated and expressive, but less strictly realistic, animation. As a result some of the comic relief falls a bit flat, particularly the physical, slapstick stuff. On the plus side, the CGI itself is top-drawer - dead eyes are not a problem here.

The fact that a Peter Jackson-directed sequel has already been given a preliminary start date points to the film’s other flaw, its climax, or rather lack thereof. It goes for a more open ended approach which teeters on unsatisfying. In hindsight, the film does have a good final showdown, but it doesn’t feel like the finale because it follows straight on the heels of the end of the second act, with a more low-key final few minutes afterwards that seem to be setting up for another action beat that never arrives. The film thrives on atmosphere, though, be it the unspecified European (Brussels? Paris?) city where Tintin lives, a grimy cargo ship, or the Sahara Desert, and this distinctive character is maintained right to the end. You can’t help but be swept along.



Summary
This is Spielberg having more fun than he has in years, which translates into a supremely enjoyable, precisely crafted boy’s own adventure yarn. It’s refreshing and invigorating, if not vintage.

Cinema Review: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011)

James Bond might be cinema’s most famous spy, packing the gizmos, the gadgets and the girls, but when it comes to high-level on-screen deception, he has nearly met his match with grizzled legend Gary Oldman playing MI6 man George Smiley in the film adaptation of John le Carré’s tense commie-baiting Cold War novel first published in 1973.

Alec Guinness brought Smiley to the BBC’s screens in the late 1970s, but ignore misconceptions of Oldman revisiting the boring and cuddly spy – he brings a cooler, crueller and altogether darker characterisation to the cinematic rendition. Directed by Let The Right One In’s Tomas Alfredson, it’s taut, twisty and updated for 2011’s cinema-goers. Set in the early 1970s, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy finds recently retired MI6 agent Smiley trying to adjust to life outside the Secret Service. But when a disgraced agent reappears with information about a mole inside the Circus – the British intelligence service – Smiley cannot resist one last indulgence in the world of espionage. Tasked with investigating which of his former pals has turned against the organisation, Smiley focuses on four suspects. They are all experienced, successful agents, but their past histories, rivalries and friendships conspire to hamper his bid to unearth the mole.

The whole experience is unflinchingly authentic and is as low-tech as possible, the polar opposite of Bond where listening to conversations rather than bangs and booms will bring rewards. The film recalls the era in which it is set – when tense paranoia classics such as The Conversation and The Manchurian Candidate dominated Hollywood filmmaking – and it is packed with talent. Alongside elder Brit heavyweights such as Oldman, Colin Firth and Kathy Burke are spunky young bucks Tom Hardy, Stephen Graham and Benedict Cumberbatch.

The performances are all good to brilliant, especially Oldman, but the main problems arise with the screenplay. Peter Straughan and Bridget O’Connor fail to provide any social, historical or political context to give the mole hunt any great urgency or wider importance. Focussing on the overlong saga of the love affair between a British spy and the wife of a Moscow agent is fine but could have been trimmed down to give the main candidates a bigger chance to breathe. Alfredson infuses a sombre Scandinavian melancholy and the film is certainly stylish and evocative enough but it asks the audience too many questions without providing enough answers. At times one feels like begging for more evidence, more back story, more understanding and all we are left is Smiley randomly having a breakthrough justified with no real rhyme or reason. Ultimately, Alfredson nearly makes Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy emotionally vacuous – the revelation is nowhere near as astonishing as it should be and some members of the audience will end up simply not caring. In contrast, with a grown-up thriller some may argue the whole point is to become engrossed and draw your own opinions or, failing that, simply admit to yourself that slow-burners where concentration is key are not your genre of choice.



Summary
A standard thriller in which the journey and the disclosure could have been so much more. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is certainly entertaining but thinks of itself as being more intelligent than it actually is with miniscule nuances few will notice.

Cinema Review: Captain America - The First Avenger (2011)

As the last of Marvel's A-list names to reach the big screen in the current batch of comic book adaptations, the challenge faced by Captain America is more than simply living up to what's gone before. It presents the unique difficulty of its innate jingoism. Who could take seriously a hero calling himself Captain America, except proud Americans? The way the filmmakers of Captain America: The First Avenger (to give it its whole, clunky, sequel-teasing title) tackle this thorny issue is inspired. They embrace the inherent cheesiness of the concept while simultaneously managing to suppress its ridiculousness. In this incarnation, Captain America is a promotional tool concocted by the US military to raise money for the war effort against Hitler. The goofy costume, faithful to the last thread, even makes an appearance, but no-one is expecting a straight face here. That's not to say, though, that the film is a comedy. It in fact plays everything with real sincerity, sidestepping the potential pitfalls with ingenuity and style.

Of course, this Captain America does not last the whole film without upgrading his duds: the one shown in the promotional photography is the more practical, and frankly cool, version that appears once he starts kicking Nazi butt, against the orders of his superiors. Such an upstanding, morally sound character could have been dull, but in the hands of Chris Evans - the best thing about the Fantastic Four movies, another Marvel property - he's likeable and interesting. He's given a great arc, with an origin story that feels worth the time spent on it; in fact this is one of those occasions where the origin half of the tale make be the best. Evans' Steve Rogers starts out hilariously scrawny, thanks to the wonders of CG trickery, before beefing up in the super-soldier experiment that turns him into the one-man army of the title. The early scenes for once seem worthwhile rather than perfunctory, demonstrating great wit and sense of period.

Indeed, the period setting is one of the reasons Captain America feels so fresh. The World War II era may be well mined on screen but not in this genre, resulting in a mix of the familiar (evil Nazis!) with the new (evil Nazis versus a superhero in World War II!). In fact, Cap's super-humanness is toned down to simply heightened levels of strength, speed and agility, making him more relatable than, say, the impervious Superman. The film's Indiana Jones overtones cannot be a coincidence, director Joe Johnston having worked alongside Spielberg, his career starting at ILM before directing the likes of The Rocketeer (a test run for this film, it now seems) and Jurassic Park III. Hugo Weaving's villain, the diabolical Red Skull, is a match for Raiders' menagerie of menaces, chewing the scenery with glee.

Where it falls short of Indy's genre-defining heights is in its pacing - sometimes sluggish where it should be sprightly - and reluctance to go all-out in the action scenes, none of which offer anything new. But still the film's emphasis on character is commendable, its steady action-adventure construction endearingly old fashioned. Alan Silvestri's score is also a throwback, with not an electronic note to be found and with a pleasing propensity for the traditional fanfare and recognisable themes. These elements cohere in what may be Marvel's best internally produced effort yet - yes, better than Iron Man - and certainly its best lead-in to The Avengers. Unfortunately, the need to set up next year's big conflagration cheapens the finale of this film somewhat, but it still does manage to stand alone as a satisfying adventure within its own right, to an extent that its stablemates have not managed.



Summary
An enjoyable wartime adventure cast from the same mould as Indiana Jones, Captain America may not be quite the effortless heroic yarn it aspires to be, but its sheer entertainment value is hard to knock.

Cinema Review: Super 8 (2011)

Super 8 sets its stall out early with its opening logos. After the familiar Paramount peak, we see a boy cycling in front of the moon: the Amblin logo, Steven Spielberg's company, its iconic motif of course spawned from E.T.. Only then is it followed by J.J. Abrams' Bad Robot insignia. Not only does it show just how reverently Abrams regards Spielberg, it also encapsulates the tone, subject matter and even time period of the film to follow. Super 8 is a shameless Spielberg riff through and through - and manages to be the best Spielberg film since the heyday of The Beard himself. A cinematic love child of Close Encounters and E.T., albeit with a rather less friendly alien beastie at its centre, Super 8 encapsulates exactly the sort of exuberant fun, married to real heart and soul, that propelled the young Spielberg to such unmatched heights of critical and commercial success.

Like E.T., and also fellow 80s classic Stand By Me, Super 8 is a story of childhood, in which precocious young actors are the stars, but, also like them, it is not a 'kids save the world' movie. Rather, it is about a group of friends thrust into an unfamiliar situation, and who deal with it as best they can. Such a movie relies hugely upon its young performers; fortunately, in Super 8 they shine. Their naturalism and ease in front of the camera is a testament to their individual talent, a brilliant casting job, and superb direction from Abrams. A mark of many of the best directors is how well they coax convincing performances from children; in that respect Abrams excels. What's more, each of these kids feels human and fully developed - sure, they do slot into broad types (the chubby one, the geek, etc.) but they feel like friends you could have had in high school. Their behaviour and interplay comes across as entirely authentic, spontaneous and often hilarious. It's a mark of the sheer entertainment value of these scenes that the science fiction stuff almost feels like a sideshow.

That's not to say that Abrams drops the ball when it comes to the thrills. Not a bit of it. Super 8 is as tight and intense an experience as you could hope for, propelled by pitch perfect pacing and numerous moments of great suspense. The plot kicks off when our central band of boys (and girl), filming their own zombie movie, happen to get front row seats to a mammoth train crash. Naturally, it's not just any train crash - it's a US Air Force train, whose contents are a closely guarded, and now missing, secret. Cue the military invading the small town of Lillian, and some déjà vu for fans of Close Encounters. The crash itself is an absurdly extended cacophony of chaos, which sets the wheels of the plot into inexorable, gripping motion. The way Abrams drip-feeds the mysteries is reminiscent of Lost - the TV show he co-created - but this time, you don't have to wait six years for an answer that may not even be given. Here, the script is honed and polished enough that every element has a payoff and a reason for existing, making the resolution all the more satisfying.

The heart of the film lies with Joe (Joel Courtney) and Alice (Elle Fanning). At the beginning of the film, Joe has just lost his mother; his subsequent difficulties with his lone parent father (Kyle Chandler, receiving deserved exposure) form an emotional backbone to his arc. Alice is the outsider of the group, invited into the boys' inner circle by their need to have a leading lady in their homemade film. She's slightly older and wiser than them, so the casting of the experienced Fanning is ideal. Her story too is tremendously moving, reaching a tearful, beautifully performed moment late on that may tug on the most sceptical heartstrings. Abrams proves an assured hand at balancing such emotional peaks with visceral action, his prowess in the latter already having been shown in his two previous features (Star Trek and Mission: Impossible III). Super 8 feels his most fully cinematic venture yet, the director relaxing his propensity for shaky, tight close-ups and having the confidence to pull back to wider shots with fewer cuts when called for.

If there's a misstep, it's in the alien itself: a malformed jumble of undiscernable body parts, once finally revealed. Its closest cousin is the Cloverfield monster (another Abrams producing gig). Basically, it's neither memorable or clear in its design, the director having apparently prioritised anatomical originality over anything relatable. Thankfully, the creature is not lingered on much, never even quite receiving a clear wide shot, so it doesn't prove to be damaging, and it's more of a plot catalyst than an integral component. This is a film driven by a childlike sense of wonder and lack of cynicism - traits all too rare in both films and reality these days - and demonstrates the inspiring potential of the blockbuster, reaching back to the days when it was not a dirty word.



Summary
Driven by nostalgia but not dependent on it, Super 8 is the best film of the summer, the best film of the year so far, and one of the best blockbusters in many a moon.

Cinema Review: The Tree of Life (2011)

Life, the universe and everything. That's the unambitious subject matter of Terrence Malick's fifth feature. Never one to think small, Malick has here made a bewildering yet beautiful dreamlike fusion of music and images. Apparently taking his cue from 2001: A Space Odyssey, the film spans from prehistory to modern times, yet this film is diametrically opposed to Kubrick's rigidly structured approach. The Tree of Life is a free-flowing, meandering, practically formless film, resembling the fractured non-linearity of memory, which is surely intentional. The result is even less mainstream and conventional than the director's previous films, none of which could be described by either of those terms. This is a pure expression of Malickness.

Say goodbye to dialogue, A-to-B storytelling, even an apparent aim. The beginning of the film is particularly mystifying, jumping between three disparate settings and times: leafy 1950s American suburbia, the glass-and-concrete modern city, and the birth of the universe. The beauty on display is inarguable, be it the lush woodland or the rupturing crust of the early Earth, but it lacks any sort of handle to give an audience member something to hang on to. It comes across like an art installation: striking, intriguing, but also a bit distancing, and yes, even pretentious. Malick overdoes some of his stylistic tics, such as the rambling inner monologues, and the gradual "tilt up to treetops" shot (seriously, there's a drinking game in there somewhere). The prehistoric scenes are spectacles to behold, but you're left to ponder the point of, say, the dinosaur flopping on the beach, any explanations unforthcoming from the film itself.

Eventually, some sort of focus does emerge. This is fundamentally the story of the childhood years of three brothers in 1950s America, who live in fear of their domineering father (Brad Pitt, as unlikeable as he's ever likely to be, while still remaining human). That's it as far as plot goes. We follow the characters through the short chapter of their lives, watching them interact, misbehave, and learn life lessons. It's hard not to see it as autobiographical in some way. However, Malick's unwillingness to concede to anything approaching convention at times seems wilfully obtuse; you yearn at times for a simple conversation between characters. Malick's mastery of the camera is still in evidence; his visuals tell a story with more potency than words could.

Of the three time periods, it's the modern day one that never finds an identity. Sean Penn wanders around streets and buildings looking a bit lost before he stumbles on some strange windswept beach. To detail further would spoil the ending of the film, but suffice to say, its religious and spiritual overtones, not to mention overall weirdness, may be too much for even those people who have made it that far.



Summary
Esoteric and maddening, The Tree of Life is certainly unique. To some, it will be like watching paint dry; to others, a thing of transcendent beauty. Its vision - and the suspicion that it will benefit from repeat viewings - earns it three stars, but its ambition is not quite matched by its distancing, mannered execution.

Cinema Review: Horrible Bosses (2011)

The latest shamelessly vulgar comedy to hit multiplexes opens by introducing its three longtime buddies at their respective workplaces. Nick (Jason Bateman) is a white-collar workaholic who has been slaving away for months in anticipation of receiving a coveted promotion from his dastardly corporate fuehrer (Kevin Spacey). Kurt (Jason Sudeikis) is a genial employee at a small chemical company whose fortune changes overnight when his boss suddenly (Donald Sutherland) dies, leaving him at the unfortunate mercy of his boss’ son, a coke-snorting, womanizing asshole (Colin Farrell) with a heinous comb-over. Finally, Dale (Charlie Day) is an engaged-to-be-married dental assistant who is constantly harassed by his sex-starved dentist boss (Jennifer Aniston) - which is ironic because he’s a registered sex offender for taking a post-carousing toilet break at an empty playground.

Unfortunately, that’s about as much character development as we are given from director Seth Gordon and a quartet of screenwriters, none of whom seem interested in dosing this adult comedy with even a trace of empathy or feeling. The trio of one-note, caricatured bosses fares worst of all, none more over-the-top than Spacey, who essentially reprises his role from 1994’s Swimming with Sharks, a sharper, darker workplace horror show. However, Gordon swaps characterisation for pure comedy and he pulls off the trade with aplomb.

Horrible Bosses is filthy, it has to be said. Even Jennifer Aniston, who isn’t accustomed to such a boisterous and overtly sexual character, utters some truly explicit desires she has in regards to Day’s Dale. Aniston proves she can depart from her typecast career role and tackle something a little more daring. Dentist Julia is a sexual predator and she aggressively preys upon Dale, which makes for great viewing. Aniston becomes extremely watchable (which is a charm lacking from her previous films) and the sexy dynamic to her character and nymphomaniac ways certainly had an effect on one FilmVerdict reviewer(!). Similarly, love-him-or-hate-him bad boy, Farrell, does a fine job as he epitomises the arrogant jerk and of course Spacey shines on his own, with unquestionable merit in the shallow yet hilarious part he is given.

Taking nothing away from the pleasure one gets during such comedies, it’s instantly forgettable in a genre so saturated, and it becomes hard to pick out the great from the good and the good from the average. It is a shame, because Horrible Bosses is, for the most part, a very funny and solid film. It just does not distinguish itself as anything special. The comedy has all the initial characteristics of an Apatow/Rogen effort like Pineapple Express, including an endearing central bromance, trouble with some white powder and oddball characters, and is paced in much the same way. The one area where Gordon has struck gold though is with his three leads, Bateman, Sudeikis and Day, who are a comic tour de force of understated, observational and more mature humour, and who keep the giggles coming in the more serious moments. Like Bridesmaids, this summer’s other hilarious grown-up romp, the final act creates an all too convenient climax to proceedings and the whole premise of three sane men all wanting to murder their bosses is a little far-fetched, but guffaws save the day and audiences always forget trivial plot flaws when they are entertained.



Summary
Though not exactly original, Horrible Bosses is pleasant popcorn fun, surprisingly raunchy and full of laugh-out-loud moments.

Cinema Review: X-Men First Class (2011)

Bryan Singer's X-Men, a decent if not spectacular success on its release, is widely credited with igniting the superhero movie boom that we're still living through. The 11 years since the film's release have seen two direct sequels and now two prequels, to varying degrees of popular acceptance. The problem with prequels is that they tell us a story that we already know - what did Wolverine reveal, that hadn't already been covered (much more efficiently) in X-Men and X-Men 2? X-Men First Class encounters the same problem, but does go about it with considerably more panache. Matthew Vaughn, who was originally lined up for The Last Stand before bailing with mere weeks remaining until production, is the unlikely occupant of the director's chair, but it's clear why this tale held more interest for him. With a relatively clean sheet and a brand new cast, he's able to put his own stamp on proceedings, and the result is certainly different, both visually and tonally, from earlier X-films.

One of the key changes is the period setting. Beginning with a recap of the first scene of the original film, set in a Nazi concentration camp, the story then branches off into a completely new direction. The majority of the film is set in 1962, which both adds visual interest and the chance for historical context. Mostly the time frame is taken advantage of for the Cold War setting, with a finale that incorporates, to impressive effect, the Cuban Missile Crisis. Meanwhile, the '60s backdrop also allows Vaughn to indulge in some of the more campy elements of the comic book source material that Singer so comprehensively shied away from; First Class is colourful and at times cheesy, and, yes, the heroes even wear a variation on the classic yellow outfits.

Central to the narrative is the evolution of the relationship between Charles Xavier and Erik Lensherr - known to most as Professor X and Magneto - and how their friendship mutated into the outright antagonism of the first X-Men. The casting of James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender is inspired, not least for their unfamiliarity as leads of a blockbuster. Fassbender in particular is magnetic - no pun intended - combining good intentions with believably sinister overtones in a way that, say, Hayden Christensen as Anakin Skywalker totally failed to do in the Star Wars prequels. If anything, he's even better than Ian McKellen in the part, displaying both the required physicality and twisted likeability. In fact, Vaughn's casting throughout is an offbeat joy - current indie darling Jennifer Lawrence (Winter's Bone) is great as the young Mystique, while the underseen-of-late Kevin Bacon has great fun as a diabolical baddie.

Where the film comes unstuck is in trying to do too much. This is a packed 132 minutes, and, as could be said for all of Vaughn's previous directorial outings (Layer Cake, Stardust, Kick-Ass), there's too much going on. You get the sense that the rough cut ran extremely long and was hacked away at to make for a reasonable running time. The film never finds a rhythm or a compelling through-line. Whereas X-Men was principally Rogue's story and X2 Wolverine's, First Class attempts to divide its attention between everyone, lacking in focus. Some scenes exist purely due to the demands of a prequel; one clunky example depicts the young mutant recruits giving each other their now-familiar nicknames (Mystique, Angel, etc.), which falls flat as undisguised exposition. Moreover, even the action scenes tend to pass by quickly, with few true standouts.

The exception is the aforementioned third act showdown, glimpsed in the trailer, which is a thrilling, sustained barrage of spectacular sights. It's evident that a large proportion of the CGI budget was saved for the sequence, as the poor effects that crop up slightly too often prior to this do not intrude here (the exception being some of the mutants' powers, which never convince: flaming spit globules and flying by scream power come to mind). The USA vs. Soviets vs. mutants finale is brilliantly executed and in fact made more satisfying as you watch the known elements of the mythology slot into place, and the allegiances form that will last into the original films. It has been suggested that the film teases a sequel (Second Class?), but it doesn't need one; the end provides a welcome emotional payoff and narrative closure that also can segue in relatively seamlessly to the pre-existing canon.



Summary
An overstuffed and slightly disjointed narrative means that X-Men First Class may not merit the grade that its title implies, it's still a highly enjoyable effort with stellar casting and a barnstorming final third.

Cinema Review: Senna (2011)

To condense the days of Ayrton Senna da Silva, the greatest ever Formula One pilot whose talent ignited observers, whose turmoil ignited ratings, and whose love for his country ignited Brazil itself was indisputably difficult for brilliant young British director Asif Kapadia. Creating a documentary simply with voiceovers and footage found from over 15,000 hours of archival film without face-to-face interviews is a huge undertaking and the perfect platform for a complex star to take centre stage. With this BAFTA winning effort though, the Londoner has pulled off a thoroughly watchable examination of such a gifted soul. Senna has been painted as an intense and rapid illustration of a true master, reflecting the great Brazilian’s excellent skills on the Formula One track without ever suffocating the viewer with motor racing mumbo-jumbo. The director, in only his fourth feature film, has created a welcome bittersweet tale of a true genius instead of a melancholic take on a life taken too young.

It would be a challenge to contain the full and complete life of even a moderately interesting man in just a few brief cinematic minutes. If a man has lived in more than two cities, held more than three jobs and dated more than four women, the gift of that man’s life probably cannot be wrapped in a hundred and four minutes of celluloid. Yes, some biopics are extremely rewarding but normally they’re given more time and breathing space. Senna canters along at the speed of one of Senna’s six Monaco victories yet seems so effortless because of silky smooth editing and a great structure.

While the film does not cover everything, what Kapadia does reveal about dreaming, stubbornness, tenacity, fallibility, talent and death is something you will certainly wish to see. Senna showcases three of the qualities Senna brought to Formula One: massive talent in good conditions that became ethereal aptitude in the wet; total devotion to winning; and an intimate connection to God. These three subjects are thoroughly explored and even though the focus is firmly on one man, the people around him – including the doctor who befriends him and then has to watch him die – are given just enough room to feed into the story without getting in the way and creating unnecessary subplots.

Like James Cameron’s Titanic, everyone going to see Senna will know how the story ends. But in terms of tension, humanity, passion and plot Senna blows the huge ship out of the water. Sometimes it’s the commentary, sometimes it’s a close up shot of Senna’s face conveying what actors spend years trying to mimic, sometimes it’s archive footage. Then sometimes it’s watching Senna race around the track and getting to see just what an incredible driver he was. Not that you have to have even the faintest interest in motor racing (although there’s a high chance you’ll be hooked by the end of the film). Knowing how it ends only adds poignancy to the scenes where he talks about his faith in God and about a hoped-for future that we know will not be his.

Senna was a man’s man who just wanted to race cars and to do it well – sadly a far cry from the monotony of today’s races. He didn’t want to get involved in the politics of Formula One, but was pulled into it just the same, and more often than not he got the raw end of the deal. He was single minded, in that his aim was to win and never to accept second best. But unlike his clinical adversary Alain Prost, you never doubt there’s a sensitive person trapped inside his competitive nature.

Prost and former FIA President Jean-Marie Balestre are portrayed as arrogant, brash and full of hot air bravado, controlling the system against the maverick smaller man. The great rivalry between Senna and Prost plays a huge part in proceedings and, while the Frenchman may feel aggrieved that he is portrayed as such an antagonist, it is hardly surprising in a film about the Brazilian superstar. Also though, the footage doesn’t lie and his past actions firmly entrench him as a villainous weasel among the audience. The arc of their relationship and how it ends between the two however is well done by Kapadia and by Prost and Senna – above all their respect for each other never faded. In regards to Balestre and his apparent dislike of Senna, our hero may have got caught up in the big-money Formula One political machine, he may have spent his career sitting in a state of the art racing machine, but he was no machine himself, and when he doesn’t follow unjustified orders, we can only feel sympathy for him because he’s not being egotistical – he’s just following his own divine self-belief and morals and not disobeying biased authority.

There are no weak points in Senna but moments stand out, such as when he squirms while getting chatted up on live Brazilian TV by his future girlfriend; the primal scream he emits when he wins a gruelling race on home territory for the first time; when he has to find every bit of strength he possesses to lift a hard-won trophy; when he watches the death of fellow racing driver Roland Ratzinburger just one day before his own untimely death on the same racetrack at San Marino in 1994. He has to turn away from the screen – you won’t be able to.

The scenes leading up to Senna’s death are chilling. We’re shown shots of those close to him. Unlike the viewer of this film, they’re unaware of what’s about to happen. The footage of him shaking his head as he sits in a racing car he’s not happy with, moments from death, might make you think that he sensed something was about to go very badly wrong.

While Schumacher and Prost have more championships and grand prix wins, Senna was the champion of the people, always exciting to watch and a true racing driver sometimes not even in a tremendously competitive car. Even though he could never match the former two names’ statistics because of his shorter career, the great Brazilian still leads many of the percentage charts regarding pole positions converted to race wins etc. Faster than any other driver of his era, as his 41 grand prix wins and three world titles proved, Senna also had a ruthless streak but he was never malicious, just more determined than any other. With Senna, there is just one disappointment – that the man himself didn’t have a longer career and isn’t around now to enjoy this brilliant celebration of his brilliant life.



Summary
An emotional and poignant ode to one of sport’s greatest ever talents. Even for people who are not fans of motor sport this is an unmissable tribute to a true genius.