Review #41: 'Hope and Glory' (1987)

There is something so distinctly British about the Home Front during World War II. Perhaps it was the movies that portrayed the typically 'stiff upper-lipped' Brits holding their heads high and getting on with their everyday lives, not letting the fact that the country was being destroyed by German bombs get them down. And so came John Boorman's semi-autobiographical account of a child growing up during the Blitz, trying to capture that old-school spirit, and giving a fresh perspective from a particularly naive child's point of view.

The film follows the Rowan family whose youngest child Bill (Sebastian Rice-Edwards) finds the frequent air raids and destruction as exciting as it is terrifying. His sister Dawn (Sammi Davis) falls for a Canadian solider who is soon called back into action. His father Clive (David Hayman) volunteers for the army and heads off to fight until he's deemed too old and supports the war effort from an administrative angle. And struggling to hold the whole family together is the mother Grace (Sarah Miles), who in her loneliness seeks out the comfort of Clive's best friend who she had feelings for back before she got together with Clive.

Nominated for 5 Academy Awards, including Best Picture, I was expecting a definitive account of Britain during WWII. What I witnessed was a badly acted, amateurish and poorly scripted film that I found reminiscent of an ITV drama with a slightly bigger budget that normal. I was genuinely surprised, as I'd heard nothing but good things about it. It felt that one scene led to the next without any control or idea of where it was heading. The relationship between Dawn and the Canadian soldier is every bit as predictable and tedious as you would expect, and I failed believe any of it. The third act of the film moves the action to the granddad's countryside home, and meanders there for a long time without much happening at all.

The film is also guilty of some truly terrible acting. Decent child actors are always hard to find, but Rice-Edwards doesn't even remotely convince as an actor. He delivers his lines with a rigid blankness and is not able to channel his character's emotions through to the audience. And the late Ian Bannen playing Grandfather George suffers from a bad script and bad direction. He is meant to be the lovably grouchy old man, but stomping around muttering inaudible grumblings over and over and over again is neither funny or convincing.

I'll stop the moaning there I think, because there were things I also liked about the film, it's just that the negatives irritated me so much that they overshadowed the positives. A stray weather balloon causing havoc amongst the rooftops whilst the family watch with glee, and the Canadian solider pulling faces through the family window while they stand straight-faced listening to 'God Save The Queen' are a couple of the rather wonderful and funny moments of the film. And the forbidden and potential love affair between Grace and her husband's best friend seen through the eyes of a maturing Bill is cleverly explored only in glimpses.

Overall an okay movie, which I will no doubt watch again in a few years to see if I've just missed something, given the overwhelmingly positive critical response the film received. But for now I'll stick to my guns.


Directed by: John Boorman
Starring: Sebastian Rice-Edwards, Geraldine Muir, Sarah Miles, David Hayman, Ian Bannen
Country: UK/USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #40: 'Sweet Smell of Success' (1957)

When it comes to the newspapers in the movies, they are usually portrayed in one of the two following extremes. Either they are heroic figures, fighting against political corruption and sleaze, or uncovering a massive conspiracy that have failed to have been noticed, in such films as The Killing Fields (1984) or the classic All The President's Men (1976). Or they are complete scum, sticking their noses in or desperately trying to spin a story to the expense of someone's privacy, such as in Salvador (1986 - although James Woods' character is the central figure, he is portrayed as sweaty, booze-addled and pathetic) and La Dolce Vita (1960), where the term 'papparazzo' was formed. In terms of the latter, never has the newspapers been so viciously portrayed as in Sweet Smell Of Success, where desperation and lies are the name of the game.

Sidney Falco (Tony Curtis) is a young press agent working for columnist giant J.J. Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster), who has set Falco the task of breaking up the relationship between up-and-coming jazz musician Steve Dallas (Martin Milner) and Hunsecker's sister Susan (Susan Harrison). Falco is at the point of desperation, as the two are on to his plans, so Falco puts into motion an act so complex and devious that it just might work. He sets about ruining Dallas' reputation by spreading the rumour that he's a pothead Communist, only to have Hunsecker then salvage his reputation. Falco foresees that Dallas would then reject Hunsecker's help, opposing the nature of his work, and thus causing Susan to break off the relationship. While all this is going on, Falco is losing money and clients, and must scheme his way out of his situation and have to deal with the monstrous Hunsecker.

The greatest thing about this stone-cold classic is the complete lack of conscience between the two leads. While Curtis' good looks may make him the more sympathetic of the two, his character is an absolute slimeball, and we watch him repeatedly cheat, scam and bullshit his way out of corners, all for the benefit of his career. In my opinion, it's Curtis' greatest performance. He will always be remembered primarily for his cross-dressing performance in Some Like It Hot (1959), but here he puts his charm and good looks on the line for the sake of a complex and extremely mature performance. It is a performance he would come close to equalling later on in his career in the thoroughly underrated The Boston Strangler (1968). Lancaster is nothing short of terrifying. One of the greatest 'villains' in history, he is a tower of rage and brutality, using people left right and centre for his own selfish means. He is completely lacking in sympathy and ethics, and Falco laps up every order and direction like a obedient dog. He is the domineering force of the film, even though Tony Curtis eats up the majority of the screentime.

The screenplay has enough words to fill about 5 feature-length scripts. It's full of wonderful one-liners and riveting monologues and they are all delivered with skill by the cast. It's similar to another classic set in the world of newspapers His Girl Friday (1940). Yet while the fast-paced dialogue was used in that film for comedy purposes and to allow leads Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell to bounce sexily off each other, here it is used as a way to portray the evilness of its leads, confusing the audience as much as they confuse the victims of their acid-tongued schemes. Director Alexander Mackendrick, who also directed Ealing classics The Man In The White Suit (1951) and The Ladykillers (1955), shoots the whole film with a noir-ish bleakness. Even though the film is set in a fast-paced world filled with stars and classy settings, the film managed to capture the emptiness of the surroundings and of the profession. A true classic, featuring staggering performances by the two leads, and fantastic, unfussy direction from Mackendrick. Way ahead of its time.


Directed by: Alexander Mackendrick
Starring: Burt Lancaster, Tony Curtis, Susan Harrison, Martin Milner
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #39: 'Harold and Maude' (1971)

When Cameron Diaz's character in the Farrelly brothers' 1998 comedy There's Something About Mary describes Harold And Maude as the 'greatest love story of our time', she's not far wrong. While it may not be a conventional love story by any means, it is engaging, passionate, and oddly believable. It was a very brave step to take to make a film about a young boy who falls in love with an old woman, and to tell it in such a dreamlike manner. In a society that generally accept older men falling for younger women, to reverse that trend was extremely daring, especially back in 1971.

Harold (Bud Cort) is a 20-something who feels isolated and disconnected with his life living with his rich mother who seems to only be concerned with finding her strange son a wife. Obsessed with death, he regularly stages fake suicides in front of his unresponsive and unimpressed mother. He seems doomed to life of morbidity until he meets 80-year old Maude (Ruth Gordon) who seems to share his passion of attending funerals. Maude has a completely different outlook on life, and indulges in her passions for art and culture, and 'making the most of her time on Earth'. The two become equally infatuated with each other, as Maude shows Harold the delights of life, and begins to teach him how to play the banjo. As Harold falls deeply in love with Maude, his mother persists with quest to find Harold a wife, and after one fake suicide too many, she decides to send him into the military.

This is the kind of nihilistic and existential film that could have only be produced in the 70's, amidst the madness and folly of the Vietnam war. Harold is a child of this generation, and seems to embody the anger, loss and early loss of innocence that the children of this generation felt. Harold is born into a life lacking in meaning and direction, while Maude has lived a life full of purpose, and having been a prisoner in Auschwitz (in a moving blink-or-you'll-miss-it revelation) has endured the hardships and extremities of life. Harold, with his persistent fake suicides, seems to long for this.

All this sounds extremely heavy, but the film explores these themes with a feisty sense of humour, and an air of quirkiness found commonly these days in the films of Wes Anderson. The black comedy seems way ahead of its time. In one scene, Harold finds another potential wife at his home chatting to his mother. He greets the young lady with a very mature and pleasant manner, only to excuse himself and walk outside carrying a jug of petrol. As his mother and the young lady exchange pleasantries, Harold can be seen in the background through the window dousing himself in petrol and then seemingly set himself on wife. The young girl screams in horror as Harold's mother sits embarrassed, only for Harold to appear next to her as if nothing happened.

The relationship between Harold and Maude would probably be uncomfortable and strange in another director's hands, but with a fantastic script by Colin Higgins and a heartfelt soundtrack by Cat Stevens, the whole things is moving, profound and sweet. The film conjured up so many emotions in me as the credits rolled after the poignant final scene. Harold And Maude is in equal measures touching, intelligent, insightful, beautiful and extremely vicious.


Directed by: Hal Ashby
Starring: Ruth Gordon, Bud Cort, Vivian Pickles
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #38: 'Disco Godfather' (1979)

It's rare that a film can be simultaneously the greatest and worst film ever made. Herschell Gordon Lewis regularly almost achieves this, notably with his disease-inducing classic The Gore Gore Girls (1972), a film that is so balls-out awful, offending every possible sense in every conceivable way, yet making you laugh so hard that the negatives threaten to almost become redundant. The Grindhouse and blaxploitation genres are 99% awful films. You watch the trailer and wonder how it can fail to be anything but a masterpiece. But then you watch the film and wonder how the director can stretch it out to a 90-minute movie, and also how you can possibly stay awake amongst all the visual crud on display. Yet Disco Godfather is somehow different. Yes, it's fucking awful. It really is. But it's also very, very special.

Tucker Williams is a retired cop who now spends his days wearing crappy, Salvation Army-esque sparkly spandex suits and has re-invented himself as the Disco Godfather. When he's not DJ-ing and demanding that the crowd 'put their weight on it!', he also indulges in a bit of dancing - that is moving his hips in uncomfortable looking motions while brandishing his disturbingly wide and sparkly white grin. But when a new drug hits the street, the Godfather must put aside his disco days and use his street experience to tackle to scum that is putting the 'whack' on the streets, killing the youth and sending one of his family members crazy.

The first half an hour genuinely tested my patience with endless shots of people dancing in a disco while the Disco Godfather shouts an endless of array of quotable lines over the microphone. And the same disco song playing over and over and over again. And then a bit more. But then the 'plot' kicks in and it becomes a riot. From the moment Disco Godfather is paid a visit and is told about his nephew Bucky, lying in a hospital bed, going out of his mind from 'whack' intake, and he stares her in the face and says 'where is Bucky, and what has he ha-yad?', I knew this was an instant classic. Rudy Ray Moore, who plays the eponymous Godfather, was primarily a stand-up comedian in the same vein of Richard Pryor. Thank God the man was good at comedy (I hear) because he would have been laughed out of the audition room if he hadn't. The man is awful at acting. And thank God for it.

The film has so many classic moments it's impossible to comment on them all. An early scene has an ambulance driver, on the scene to rescue another victim of the whack, refer to Tucker as 'Disco Godfather', regardless of the fact that they have never met and the man looks like he wouldn't be seen dead in a disco. Another great scene has the Godfather kung-fu kicking the ass of a gang of henchmen, only to call on a passer-by for help, who coincidentally also possesses the ability to kung-fu kick the ass of henchmen, and proceeds to do so. A film of many delights, and I urge anyone who breathes to track this down and watch it. I feel aggrieved that I have to give this film one star. But I have to, it's phenomenally awful, and the laughs are unintentional. But they are there, and I loved it. You'll be shouting 'put yo' weight on it!' for days.


Directed by: J. Robert Wagoner
Starring: Rudy Ray Moore, Carol Speed, Jimmy Lynch
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #37: 'Wyatt Earp' (1994)

Being one of the most popular figures of the mystical Old West, Wyatt Earp has been dramatised a countless number of times on the big screen and on television. His notoriety as a no-nonsense lawman, his friendship with the drunken and dying Doc Holliday, and his participation in the legendary gunfight at the O.K. Corrall, has made him the stuff of legend. Of all the portraits, this 1994 epic, directed by Lawrence Kasdan is possibly the most accurate and detailed, following Earp's childhood amongst his many siblings, through to his old age heading to strike lucky during the Gold Rush. It's just a pity that for all it's trying and accuracy, the film isn't at all very good.

The film begins on the Earp farm where the young Wyatt is taught the words of wisdom by his father Nicholas (Gene Hackman) - 'blood is thicker than water' - which stays with Wyatt throughout his life. It's clear that his family are important, and he and his brothers are soon grown up and are making a living out on their own. Wyatt is refereeing bare-knuckle boxing matches and is soon making enemies. He romances an old flame who dies tragically, causing the recently-married Wyatt to lose his ways and becomes a drunkard, stealing from good Samaritans who offer him food and shelter. After a visit from his father in prison, he changes his ways and finds himself appointed Deputy Marshal in Wichita, after bravely shooting down a violent drunk when the cowardly sheriff watches. As his reputation as a good lawman grows, he is offered a job in Dodge City along with his brothers Virgil (Michael Madsen) and Morgan (Linden Ashby), where his reputation starts to take a turn for the worse.

After the huge success of Dances With Wolves (1990), this film seems to take a similar approach - epic, sweeping storytelling as opposed to the more action-packed angle usually taken when filming an Earp biography. Yet the majority of the film is handled with such a ham-fisted and amateurish approach by Kasdan that the film is nowhere as good as it should be. Kasdan, whose films have mainly consisted of Kevin Kline vehicles, had directed a very young Costner before in a western in the very enjoyable Silverado (1985). It's a strange performance by Costner, who in the first half seems to be sleepwalking his way through his role, delivering his lines like a nervous primary school kid finding himself cast in the lead role. The second half, when he becomes the more Republican, violent Earp, is very good. He can do brooding very well, and even though Wyatt Earp is portrayed as a complete bastard, with Costner playing him he remains an engaging character.

Even with all the star actors on show - Madsen, Hackman, Bill Pullman, Tom Sizemore, Jim Caviezel, Jeff Fahey, Isabella Rossellini, Catherine O'Hara, and the excellent Dennis Quaid as Doc Holliday, the film does begin to drag. I almost feel bad saying that, as I have a lot of respect for a director when he takes his time to develop a good story and fully-realised characters, and clocking up a long-running time. But around the 2 hour 30 mark, I found myself wanting the film to end. After the infamous O.K. Corral gunfight (which is refreshingly low-key), the film carries on for another 40 minutes as Earp begins his vendetta against the 'cowboy' gang. In a better directors hands, the last segment could have been a way to portray Earp's fall from grace and his descent into blind blood-lust. But instead it just becomes a long, drawn-out manhunt.

Perhaps I'm being harsh, but I feel this was a missed opportunity. Personally, the definitive Wyatt Earp film is John Ford's magnificent My Darling Clementine (1946), and although it may not have the historical accuracy of this, it is a typically mystical, moving, and surprisingly dark masterpiece, featuring a great Henry Fonda performance.


Directed by: Lawrence Kasdan
Starring: Kevin Costner, Dennis Quaid, Gene Hackman, Linden Ashby, Michael Madsen, Bill Pullman, Jeff Fahey, Catherine O'Hara, Isabella Rossellini
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #36: 'Russian Ark' (2002)

When I first heard about this film back in 2002, it sounded like something of a gimmick. Using digital technology and a team of highly-talented cinematographers and lightning technicians, the film took place in one location and featured one long 96-minute steadicam shot through the Russian State Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg. I'm embarrassed but somewhat happy to report that I was completely wrong, and that the technique is not a gimmick, but instead a powerful tool used to conjure up a feeling of state and atmosphere. It's also so technically impressive that even if this was not the case, it would still be an awe-inspiring achievement.

We, the audience, are locked inside the head of the narrator (voiced by director Aleksandr Sokurov) who awakens amongst a party of excited party-goers dressed in historical gowns and suits making their way inside of the then-Winters Palace, which between 1732 and 1917 was the home of the Russian tsars. Out narrator is somewhat disillusioned and confused, and wonders why is he is there and if he is in fact dead. He is soon joined by the mysterious Stranger (Sergei Dontsov), a French aristocrat who knows he is long dead and is somewhat much more comfortable with his surroundings than our humble narrator. The two swoop from room to room, which contains some of the most beautiful and impressive art I've ever seen, and they discuss and ponder both the art and Russian history. As they travel the palace, they also travel through time and through some of the key events in Russian's past.

What makes this film so impressive is not just the 96-minute shot. It is also the dreamlike state I found myself placed in when viewing the film. It was a similar feeling to the one I had when watching Andrei Tarkovsky's Mirror (1975) and Stalker (1979), as although often I didn't fully understand exactly what was taking place or what the director was getting at, the film was so beautiful I just let myself become entranced by it. A 96-minute philosophical and academic Russian history lesson won't sound like much to a lot of people, but the director's deft touch keeps the film moving along nicely. The Hermitage Museum is absolutely stunning, and Sokurov uses its beauty to take us on this journey, as the Stranger waltzes from room to room gazing upon its sights, and often interacting with historical and modern figures.

It becomes apparent early on that the main metaphor the film stands for is Russia's involvement with Europe. The Stranger is supposed to be channelling the Marquis de Custine (or may even be him, it is not made clear), who was a travel writer best known for his writing during the rule of Nicholas I in 1830's Russia. He often mocks Russia as the Marquis did, and the Narrator, who clearly represents Russia, is often anxious to move on without him, representing the ability of Russia to carry on without the support of Europe. There is so much more than this going on the film, far more than I can describe in a few hundred words. It is a meditation on art, history, culture, and also on the power of film and editing.

A few attempts have been made to create something similar to this, notably Hitchcock's Rope (1948), which used clever editing to create the illusion that it was all one shot. Although a very good film, it wasn't entirely successful in that department. Not to criticise, obviously the technology wasn't available to Hitch back in the day, but even if it had, it would not have had the same lasting effect that Russian Ark had on me. And just when you think the film couldn't get any more impressive, the final scene comes along with a cast of thousands all dressed in full costume in one climatic glide down the Grand Staircase. Absolutely beautiful.


Directed by: Aleksandr Sokurov
Starring: Sergei Donstov, Mariya Kuznetsova, Leonid Mozgovoy
Country: Russia/Germany

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #35: 'The Third Part of the Night' (1971)

Remarkably, this was Polish director Andrzej Zulawski's debut feature. Coming from a family full of actors, directors, poets, writers, and general great thinkers, Zulawski strides into this film with confidence, focus and a craft that takes the majority of directors years to perfect. I was interested in this film after reading about the rather strange plotline, and having a keen interest in Polish cinema, notably the work of Roman Polanski and Andrzej Wajda. And I'm pleased I acted upon my curiosity, as the film is a hypnotic and nightmarish piece of cinema that encourages discussion, interpretation and repeat viewings, something that I find with only a few films, especially straight after the first viewing.

The film begins in a remote countryside house in Nazi-occupied Poland, where Michal (Leszek Teleszynski) stays with his wife and children, until the Nazis come along a murder everyone while Michal lies hidden in the woods. He journeys back to Lwow where he joins the resistance, almost instantly being tracked down and almost murdered. He manages to escape when the pursuers mistake an innocent bystander wearing similar clothes to be him and shoot him dead. Michal comforts the dead man's wife, while noticing that the mysterious woman bears an uncanny resemblance to his own dead wife. Being a typhus sufferer, Michal decides to put his misfortune to use and earns money becoming a lice feeder, strapping small boxes full of the bloodsuckers down his legs to let them feed, which are later used to develop a vaccine.

What stems from the relatively normal opening scene can only be described as a chaotic descent into instability, as the story moves along slowly and confusingly. The decision to use the same actress (Malgorzata Braunek) to play multiple roles is never clearly explained or made clear. The obvious and initial reason would apparently be the inability of Michal to let go of his wife's death, seeing her everywhere, but as the film goes on, you wonder about the mental stability of our hero, or even ponder if this (or indeed the whole film) is just a product of his typhoid-addled brain. Scenes randomly blend into the next, and you have no idea where the film is going or will end up. It is truly a mentally tiring experience, and all the better for it.

Zulawski seems to be fascinated with lice and the feeding process that the film depicts. He films in close detail, with some effectively loose-hand held work, how the lice are packed together in a tiny box, with a mesh screen in place to allow the creatures to feed through. Later, during the vaccination process, we are treated to a microscope POV of the lice being carefully placed on a petri dish one by one, only to be torn open by a pair of tweezers to extract their infected blood. Do the lice represent our protagonist, or the nature of the human race? Or perhaps it's a commentary on the war and the destruction of the Nazi party? No answers are clear with the film, and is best enjoyed as an interpretive piece of art cinema. I use the word 'enjoy' loosely, as when the climax approaches, it almost becomes a piece of psychological horror, one that genuinely disturbs in a way that only a true artist can achieve. It will not appeal to everybody, but no matter what your view or opinion, it will no doubt have a profound effect on the emotions and the brain, and will linger for a long time.


Directed by: Andrzej Zulawski
Starring: Leszek Teleszynski, Malgorzata Braunek, Jan Nowicki
Country: Poland

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #34: 'The Beyond' (1981)

Often described and referred to as a 'master of horror', I've never fully taken to the work of Lucio Fulci. The City Of The Living Dead (1980) aside, which I found lots of fun and often appallingly violent, I usually find his films slow and plodding. The New York Ripper (1982) and Zombie Flesh Eaters (1979), both banned when they were first released up until not so long ago, were unimpressive and sometimes distastefully exploitative. The Beyond, the second film in Fulci's 'Gates Of Hell' trilogy (in between City Of The Living Dead and The House By The Cemetery (1981)), exceeded all my expectations. For me this is Fulci's crowning achievement - a colossal beast full of eye-gouging, human-eating tarantulas, possessed children, and most surprisingly, genuine beauty.

The film begins in 1927 in the Deep South of America, where a lynch mob arrive at the hotel door of a painter who they believe to be a sort of demon. They crucify and murder him, causing a door to hell to be opened that the hotel sits upon. These doors lie all across the world, one of which was opened and caused a city to be overflowing with the undead in the first part of the trilogy. Fast-forward several decades and the hotel is inherited by a young woman named Liza (Katherine MacColl) who is oblivious to the supernatural influence that surrounds it. Despite several warnings by a mysterious blind woman, she continues to renovate the hotel and unwittingly re-opens the door to hell. Soon, the town is in chaos, with the dead in the morgue re-awakening to tear the flesh of the townsfolk.

If this all sounds rather silly and unremarkable, it really isn't. Unlike his lesser films, The Beyond looks stunning. The prologue is filmed in an old-photograph style sepia, and it really helps give the film a sort of dignity. Dario Argento has always had the ability to shoot horror in a way that helps elevate the genre, and learned his trade alongside the great Sergio Leone, and here Fulci is on a similar level. The hotel interiors are shot in dark shadows and feels extremely claustrophobic, and helps create an atmosphere where you can feel the suffocation of Liza. And when the gore starts, all logic gets kicked out the window as eyeball after eyeball is gouged out of their sockets, and tarantulas emerge from a bookshelf to devour an unfortunately paralysed man investigating the hotel's history.

A lot of scenes are just confusing or plain ridiculous. Certain things don't have any continuation, such as a little girl seen earlier in the film being attacked by the dead is rescued, and after a while suddenly turns into one of them with only the colour of her eyes symbolising the fact she is one the undead. Yet the other living dead can't communicate, and are half-rotting, brainless animals. But with a film this bizarre, over-the-top, and so inventively horrific, who cares? It's worth seeing for the final scene alone, which is staggeringly filmed, and hauntingly realised. Just sit back, enjoy, and ponder as to why Fulci has such a fetishistic love of people's eyes being removed from their skulls.


Directed by: Lucio Fulci
Starring: Katherine MacColl, David Warbeck, Sarah Keller
Country: Italy

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #33: 'Boy A' (2007)

The death of a child is always shocking on screen. Back in 1931, audiences watching the horror masterpiece Frankenstein sat in shock as the monster threw a young girl into the lake, drowning her. Watching the film now, it still maintains its shock value. John Carpenter's excellent 1976 film Assault On Precinct 13 sees a heartless thug remorselessly shoot a young girl in a brutal scene that I couldn't believe when I saw it. It's difficult and risky portraying the death of a child that ultimately represents the innocence that we all see disappear as we grow older. However, one thing that is rarely even attempted on screen is to follow the killer of a child as a main protagonist. Fritz Lang tried and ultimately succeeded in M, one of the greatest films ever made. That was back in 1931, and it's rarely been tried since.

Boy A stars Andrew Garfield as Eric Wilson, a young man recently released from prison, getting ready to start a new life under the new identity of Jack Burridge. Helped to re-locate and ultimately settle in his new surroundings is Jack's rehabilitation worker Terry (played by the ever-reliable Peter Mullan), who treats Jack almost as a son, having been with him from his troubled beginnings. Finding a new job and making friends at work, he becomes romantically involved with receptionist Michelle (Katie Lyons) and looks like he is slowly being accepted back into society. But Jack is hiding a dark secret from his past, and were this truth ever to be discovered, it would mean the end to his new life and the possibility of a lynch-mob reaction. His childhood is revealed in flashbacks, as he falls in with Philip (Taylor Doherty) at school and begin a strange friendship which ultimately ends in tragedy for both of them.

Boy A's main strength is its refusal to take a moral stance. It just tells the story of a mentally scarred young man who made a terrible decision early in his life that has had an irreversible impact on the rest of it. Garfield is terrific as an almost child-like adult struggling with the need to grow up quickly and face a strange and often hostile world. When he begins his awkward romance with Michelle, his character appears to almost feel guilty about allowing himself to enjoy it, with knowledge of what he's done and the possibility that the truth may be revealed. In a powerful scene, while Jack and Terry are having a drink in a pub, Jack discusses the fate of Philip in prison and wonders why he has been allowed to have a second chance. Garfield is outstanding as I mentioned before, earning a BAFTA for his performance back in 2008. He has come far since this and will play Spider-Man in the upcoming re-imagining of the comic-book hero.

The film has invited comparisons to the infamous 1993 James Bulgar case, in which two youths Robert Thompson and Jon Venables tortured and horrifically murdered the 2-year old child in Liverpool. For an incident that saw one of the most vicious public outcries in British history, the film has taken a massive risk not to stir up a similar controversy. Thankfully, everything in the film is sensitively done, taking time to show the backstory of the main character up to the incident. It also doesn't sugar-coat it either, building up with an almost uncomfortable intensity that tastefully doesn't linger. It also poses some important questions about the legal system, trial-by-media, and how old a person should be before they can take responsibility for their actions. It attempts to answer none of course, letting the film provoke discussion.

It's a fascinating, sad, funny, tragic and unsettling film that is well handled by director John Crowley, and strongly performed by the cast. If only more films would have the balls to tackle such a sensitive subject. Superb.


Directed by: John Crowley
Starring: Andrew Garfield, Peter Mullan, Siobhan Finneran
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #32: 'The King's Speech' (2010)

There seems to be an ever-growing obssession with our monarchy these days. In the recent years of political blunder, the credit crunch, and the folly of Iraq and Afghanistan, people seem to be turning to our Royal Majesty and her ancestors for comfort, possibly harking back to the days when we were a super-powerful empire. Yet the press are never too far away from finding a way to criticise or unveil an unspoken truth. I've never known a subject that can be so simultaneously loved and despised in equal measure. The cinema-going audience remain eager however, with the recent releases of The Queen (2006), The Young Victoria (2009) and now The King's Speech proving critical successes as well as audiences flocking to see them.

Arriving just in time for awards season, The King's Speech has been heavily praised and awarded in equal measures. It depicts the struggle of Prince and Duke of York Albert (Colin Firth) to overcome his severe stammer. In an era where the radio was becoming a powerful method of communication between the monarchy and the general public, it is something of a worry to the Prince, who with his father's illness and his brother's dangerous love-affair with an American socialite, is looking at a possible long term as King. His dedicated wife Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter) tries one last possible solution in unorthodox speech therapist Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), who methods prove trying for the short-tempered Albert. Soon enough, his father George V (Michael Gambon) passes away and his brother Edward (Guy Pearce) abdicates soon after taking the reign to be with the woman he wants to marry, and with the seemingly unavoidable conflict with Germany brewing, Albert must find a remedy to his affliction in order to speak to his people.

What struck me almost instantly about the film was the unique visual style. Not unique to film in general but to a genre that usually loves to linger on pretty dresses rather than trying to conjure up emotions through clever camerawork. Cinematographer Danny Cohen seems to trap Albert in a tight box, shooting up close and watching Firth twitch every muscle in his face. It's a very effective method, and alongside Firth's excellent performance, you get a feel of Albert's inner struggle and the overbearing pressure that is quickly building up on top of him. It also looks somewhat bleak. For a film that spends most of it's time in beautiful palace settings, it looks somewhat brown and drained of colour. It's almost as if it wanted to capture an age that we see mainly through black-and-white footage and sepia photographs. Critic Martin Filler described it as being 'steeped in strong tea' and he's bang on. It captures a certain Britishness that so many films in the genre attempt but ultimately fail.

It raked up the awards, taking the Best Picture and Best Director awards, as well as an Oscar for Firth and for the Screenplay. This did initially put me off, but I reset my attitude and hoped for an excellent film.. In a way, it is an excellent film, but hardly worthy of being labelled the best film of the year. The acting is excellent all around, the music, script and as mentioned, the cinematography are also outstanding. But there are niggling problems with the film that stuck with me and brought the film down. Minor historical inaccuracies aside, which always have to be accepted to a certain degree, I was puzzled with the insistence of including Winston Churchill's (Timothy Spall) character, who seems to be there for no other reason that for us to say 'oh look it's Churchill!'. The character just seems like a caricature and the scene which he is mainly involved in took place with someone else anyway. Also Edward's character has obviously been altered to make him more of a sneering villain, a man whose selfishness and disloyalty to his country has placed Albert in this avoidable situation.

A very good film all-round, notable for Firth's excellent performance as well as his supporting players who are equally as good. In a year full of strong films, I just don't think this is quite up to the same level. But I don't work on the voting board at the Oscars, so what do I know, right?


Directed by: Tom Hooper
Starring: Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush, Helena Bonham Carter, Guy Pearce, Michael Gambon, Derek Jacobi, Timothy Spall
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #31: 'Crazy Heart' (2009)

It was a rare heartwarming moment for me during the 2010 Oscars when Jeff Bridges won the Best Actor award and received a standing ovation from his colleagues and peers a like. He is an actor that was seemingly never going to receive the kind of recognition and status to which he so fully deserved. His films have ranged from computer game-film hybrid nerd-fest Tron (1982), to Peter Bogdanovich's masterpiece (and one of my all-time favourite films) The Last Picture Show (1971). After winning the award for this film, he seems to have been bumped up to the A-list, receiving another nomination this year for the exceptional True Grit (2010). The film is pretty damn good too, surprisingly.

I say surprisingly as the story of an over-the-hill country singer seeking redemption seems like Oscar bait to me, but I found it a rather uplifting experience, and a piece of quality drama. Bridges plays the legendary Bad Blake, who, when we meet him, is emptying a bottle of his own piss onto the car park floor upon his arrival at a bowling alley where he is due to play his next gig. He has returned to his home, and the locals are excited to see him sing some of his classic tunes and live up to his bad boy name. Yet he is unhappy. He spends his time on his own in his fleapit motel room, drinking his favourite whisky and chain-smoking cigarettes, and arguing with his hard-working manager who is keen to buddy him up with his protege Tommy Sweet (Colin Farrell). There is unspoken resentment from Blake for Sweet, who seems to be highly successful while Blake wallows in misery, his time long since past. However, Blake seems to be awoken from his self-destructiveness when he is interviewed by the daughter of a liquor store owner, Jean (Maggie Gyllenhaal), who is as taken by him as he is by her. Living up to his name, Bad is always one step from screwing it up, as his drinking becomes a bigger problem than he imagined.

The main strength of the film is the genuine unlikeability of Blake. He is rude, offensive and in his first performance in front of his home crowd, spends the majority of the time throwing up in a bin outside while his backing band plays an instrumental on a loop awaiting his return. He also drinks to excess, throwing away his ability and refusing to write new material due to his jealousy of a younger and more successful emergent in Sweet. As he opens up to Jean, we also discover he has a son he hasn't seen in well over a decade, and has possibly fathered more that he doesn't know about. During an uncomfortable and achingly sad scene, he phones up the mother of his son and is informed of her death, and finds out his son wants nothing to do with him. Describing the film, it actually sounds like something you would have seen in other films countless times, but here the script is written with such heart, and the performance are so great, that it doesn't matter.

Another highlight is the performance of Maggie Gyllenhall. I've long since been a fan since her turn in the excellent Secretary (2002), and here she is better. Unfortunately she has been unfairly drowned out by the masterclass of Bridges. She is both brittle and strong, looking after her son as a single mother, and being unable to resist the charms of Blake while always being aware of the danger of falling for someone like him. In a scene where she admits their relationship is an accident waiting to happen, Gyllenhaal's face is torn up by resentment and defeated sadness.

For a film with so much music, this could have fallen flat on it's face. But within the trusted care of music legend T-Bone Burnett, who has worked with the Coen brothers on a number of occasions, and Ryan Bingham, the music and the on-stage performances of Bridges are electric. The pair won the Oscar for Original Song, for the wonderful 'The Weary Kind', which Blake writes at the start of his road to redemption. A great love-song to the world of country music and the legends that have eclipsed the genre, as well as being a good story very well told.


Directed by: Scott Cooper
Starring: Jeff Bridges, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Colin Farrell, Robert Duvall
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie