Review #838: 'Nightcrawler' (2014)

Only four years before the release of this film, Jake Gyllenhaal was bronzed, maned and six-packed, and ended up watching Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time (2010), a blockbuster based on a popular video game (always a bad idea), crash and burn both at the hands of the critics and in terms of box office receipts. Hollywood's attempt at sculpting this young actor we first saw as shifty and strange in Donnie Darko (2001) into something he was not, had failed miserably, and it seemed he was destined to fade and disappear. Four years later, it's difficult to imagine Gyllenhaal as anything other than the great actor he has become.

In Nightcrawler, he plays Lou Bloom. When we first meet him, he's trying to steel metal to sell for scrap, attacking a security guard when he is caught and stealing his watch. He sells what he steals, trying to cement a business relationship with the manager of a construction site, pitching his long-term ideas in Googled sales-speak. The guy isn't interested, maybe because he doesn't want to get into business with a criminal, or maybe it's because Lou is just so damn strange. He's clearly highly intelligent, observant and extremely driven, but with his bug-eyed glare, greasy hair and gaunt exterior, mixed with an unnerving politeness, you wouldn't want to be caught alone in a room with the creep.

Driving home disappointed but not deterred, he comes across police sirens and a grisly auto-mobile accident. It's not the blood and guts he's interested in seeing, but the collections of 'nightcrawlers' who emerge out of the night, cameras swung onto their soldiers, filming anything they can of the grim wreckage. Ever curious, Lou questions one of them, Joe (Bill Paxton), who explains the in's and out's of what they do before darting off to sell what they have to the highest-bidding TV station. Purchasing a video camera, Lou gives it a try. He employs Rick (Riz Ahmed) to listen to police scanners and direct him to the pay-checks, and forms a professional relationship with 'vampire shift' news director Nina (Rene Russo), who gets first dibs on any footage Lou shoots throughout the night.

First time director Dan Gilroy, Russo's husband and writer of forgotten Emilio Estevez vehicle Freejack (1992) and the more recent The Bourne Legacy (2012), manages to keep the film a right mix of black comedy, neon-lit thriller, and biting satire. It's also a film about L.A., a city that, in Lou's eyes especially, only comes alive at night, where every corner could lead to another shocking story to spark fear into morning viewers, and bumping Lou up the corporate ladder in the process. Things are pushed to the extreme in Nightcrawler, but it's alarming to realise that we are bombarded with graphic images in various media outlets every day, but for what reason? Is it part of a bigger picture aimed at controlling a terrified and increasingly paranoid audience, or is it simply because, deep down, we want to see them?

As Lou's thirst for recognition, respect and financial success becomes increasingly unquenchable, he begins to manipulate things for his own gain. From the opening scene where he may or may not have killed a man, we simply don't know what he is capable of. He first moves a corpse so he can get a better angle when he arrives at a car crash before the police, and things spiral outward from there. Whether it's Gyllenhaal's stunning performance (Oscar hang your head in shame) or the idea of if we are to exist in an evil world, then why not excel in it, I wanted this slimy opportunist, who represents everything I hate, to succeed. It loses it's grit and focus towards the end, but Nightcrawler is an accomplished debut, managing to be fun, repulsive and both beautiful and ugly to look at.


Directed by: Dan Gilroy
Starring: Jake Gyllenhaal, Rene Russo, Riz Ahmed, Bill Paxton
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #837: 'Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)' (2014)

Director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu seems to have cheered up a bit since his reach-for-the-noose-depressing trilogy of 21 Grams (2003), Babel (2006) and Biutiful (2010). The first two are excellent films (I haven't seen the third), telling honest and brutal human stories powerfully played by expert, distinguished actors, but show no signs of the kind of energy, wit and satire of his latest, Birdman, this year's Best Picture Oscar winner. We spend two hours inside the world of washed-up actor Riggan Thomson (Michael Keaton), who is having a later-than-midlife crisis trying to escape from his superstar days of being a costumed hero and trying to re-invent himself by writing, directing and starring in his own play.

For a film that spends so much time poking fun at the self-contained world of thespians and the empty yet highly-craved escapism of blockbuster cinema, Birdman manages to be, in it's own strange, unique way, a bit of both. When we first meet Riggan, he is meditating mid-air. He moves objects telekinetically, and his actions and decisions are criticised and mocked by his former alter-ego, Birdman himself. We are in and out of our protagonist's head, which is made even more delirious by the magnificent camerawork by Emmanuel Lubezki, one of the finest in the business. With the odd exception, for the most part Birdman appears edit-free. Day turns to night in the same shot and vice versa. But this is no mere gimmick.

We're on the cusp of the opening of What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, Riggan's stage adaptation of Raymond Carver's (very) short story. One of his actors is injured by a falling piece of equipment and is replaced last-minute by primadonna dick-head Mike Shiner (Edward Norton) whose girlfriend Lesley (Naomi Watts) is already working on the play; his daughter Sam (Emma Stone) is fresh out of rehab and is resentful of her father's late-in-life attempts at reconnection; his female lead Laura (Andrea Riseborough) is pregnant and tells Riggan it's his; and pompous art critic Tabitha (Lindsay Duncan) is determined to destroy the play before it's even played. It's a stressful time for Riggan to say the least, and with the illusion of watching one continuous shot, we feel right there with him. With the near-constant jazz score, we also feel every beat.

But the technical aspects of the movie do not overshadow the story, and it is played out by a gifted ensemble. With the loose, free-spiritedness of it all, Keaton breaks free and shines, excelling at the moments of comedy (Riggan's semi-naked dash through Times Square is a highlight), and moving us in the more tender moments involving his sympathetic ex-wife Sylvia (Amy Ryan). He's also as precious as his fellow actors, disgruntled that Woody Harrelson, Michael Fassbender and Jeremy Renner are unavailable due to working on their highly successful franchises, resentful at he fact that he wore a cape before capes were cool. It could have been a disorientating experience, instead it's exhilarating. It could have also trodden ground covered before, but it's so on-the-nose that it feels fresh. And it may not be the best film of the year as Oscar may have you believe (my heart lies firmly with The Grand Budapest Hotel), but Birdman is everything and nothing, just like Riggan himself.


Directed by: Alejandro González Iñárritu
Starring: Michael Keaton, Edward Norton, Emma Stone, Andrea Riseborough, Zach Galifianakis, Naomi Watts, Amy Ryan, Lindsay Duncan
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #836: 'The Little Mermaid' (1989)

Kicking off what is now known as the Disney Renaissance (following a brutal decade of flops and underachievers), The Little Mermaid reignited some of that old Disney magic, with some beautiful and lovingly-drawn animation and a good old-fashioned, yet familiar, story. Based on the fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen, it's a tale of a beautiful princess who falls in love with a dashing prince, with the snag being that the girl, Ariel (voiced by Jodi Benson) has a flipper, lives under the sea, and is best friends with a Rastafarian crab and a cowardly tropical fish.

King of the sea Triton (Kenneth Mars) is obeyed by all in his realm, with the exception of the most important person in his life, his daughter Ariel. She has bigger dreams and is obsessed with the deadly world of ships and brutal men above the sea surface. One day, she swims to the world above and spots dashing prince Eric (Christopher Daniel Barnes), who she instantly falls in love with. Desperate to escape her father who forbids her wild adventures, she is taken by two eels, Flotsam and Jetsam (both voiced by Paddi Edwards) to Ursula (Pat Carroll), a sea witch with tentacles like an octopus. In exchange for Ariel's beautiful voice, Ursula transforms her into a human, but she must receive true love's kiss within three days or else she will turn back into a mermaid and belong to Ursula's garden of creepy souls.

The fact that The Little Mermaid is very much in the style of 'classic' Disney works both for and against the film. On one hand, it's beautifully drawn with memorable songs ('Under the Sea' is a particular stand-out), but it also treads the overly familiar fairytale tropes of princes, princesses, witches and the kiss of 'true love'. However, it brought Disney into the modern era. Ariel is not just a la-di-da maiden who enjoys cleaning whilst singing sickly tunes; she is independent and slightly wild, eager to explore the mysterious world she does not belong to. Her companions are also welcome, with crab Sebastian (Samuel E. Wright) providing many laughs, especially in his efforts to escape a pompous chef who wants to cook and serve him. It's perfectly likeable throughout, but Disney wouldn't find it's true magic again until two years later.


Directed by: Ron Clements, John Musker
Voices: Jodi Benson, Christopher Daniel Barnes, Samuel E. Wright, Pat Carroll, Kenneth Mars
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #835: 'Thief' (1981)

The 1980's seemed to define what is to be expected of a crime movie. It was an era of machine guns, tooth-picks and body oil, with little attention paid to the all-important details. Michael Mann's Thief was an ultra-slick, ice cool and, most astonishingly, highly realistic alternative, which is very impressive given that this was Mann's feature debut. The film revolves around James Caan's safe-cracker Frank, a career criminal looking for one big score before retiring. We meet him mid-job, using a specially-designed drill to steal the diamonds locked within. We are given little background to his character, but, like the rest of the film, the history is embedded within every frame.

Mann, wanting the film to be as close to real-life as possible, employs real cops and criminals as actors, reversing their roles to further blur the line between the 'good' and 'bad' guys. John Santucci, a recently paroled jewel thief, plays a corrupt cop, and Dennis Farina, in his first movie role, was a real-life ex-cop and here plays a criminal henchman. The idea that the cops and robbers are merely two sides of the same coin was explored further in Mann's 1995 masterpiece Heat. With Thief, it feels like we are thrust into this very real but secret world of crime, where Frank, who works alone when possible or employs his entrusted friend Barry (James Belushi) when necessary, agrees to work for shady crime boss Leo (Robert Prosky, who, along with Belushi and Farina, makes his film debut).

With so much time spent with Frank (he appears in every scene), a lot rests upon Caan's shoulders, and he thankfully delivers what is undoubtedly his greatest performance. He's the typical tough-guy loner, but he brings so much to his character that we see much more in him than a mere brute. In the diner scene, where he seduces cashier Jessie (Tuesday Weld) and lays out his plans to start a family, Caan's marvellous monologue further layers his character. But Thief is also an exciting thriller. Thanks to the plausibility of it's characters, it's easy to become concerned when a spanner is inevitably thrown into Frank's plans. If there's a criticism to be had, then it's in the formulaic plot. But when a film seems to know it's characters so well and is filmed so stylishly by cinematographer Donald E. Thorin, it's hard to avoid becoming completely immersed.

Directed by: Michael Mann

Starring: James Caan, Tuesday Weld, James Belushi, Robert Prosky, Willie Nelson

Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #834: 'Gone Girl' (2014)

David Fincher has made a career of showing us his extremely dark vision of the world in which we live. Even his films that don't call for such an approach, such as 2010's exhilarating story of the forming of Facebook, The Social Network, are infused with a grimness that combines clever editing, flawless cinematography and a twisted score (here by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross) to achieve its purpose. Gone Girl, an adaptation of the best-selling novel by Gillian Flynn (who also adapted it for the screen) is no exception. It's seemingly formulaic tale of a girl gone missing starts with all the familiar genre tropes, but soon turns into something infinitely more contorted, unsettling and thought-provoking.

Academic underachiever Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck) returns home to find his coffee-table smashed, a blood smear in his kitchen, and his wife Amy (Rosamund Pike) gone without a trace. He's generally a laid-back sort of guy, but his lethargy soon puts him under suspicion by investigators Detective Rhonda Boney (Kim Dickens) and Officer Gilpin (Patrick Fugit). A media frenzy soon descends upon him, as his inability to act appropriately in front of the prying cameras and the mounting circumstantial evidence leads to a social media witch-hunt. Support from his twin sister Margo (the excellent Carrie Coon) leads to ridiculous allegations of 'twincest', so Nick is forced to reach deep into his pockets to hire superstar defence attorney Tanner Bolt (Tyler Perry).

Around the half-way mark, a major twist is revealed. It isn't that hard to figure out, but this isn't the point. It is merely the next stage of Flynn and Fincher's dark vision of the sanctity of marriage. Peppered throughout the early scenes are flash-backs involving Amy's romance and eventual marriage to Nick, with Amy's narration of her diary entries providing the memories. It's here that Fincher toys with us the most, placing doubt into the reliability of the narrator, causing you to question our belief in everything we see. But this is no cheap narrative trick. It's been said that Gone Girl has the power to break up couples, and with the way the movie places doubt into audience's mind as to how much they truly know their partner, it's not difficult to see why.

For an actor who has experienced a difficult time at the hands of the press of late - until he reinvented himself as a director (and an Oscar winning one at that) - Affleck surpasses all expectations and puts in the performance of his career. He is perfectly suited to a character who is in no way totally likeable or even sympathetic - he cheats on his wife and has become a layabout due to money troubles) - but his mixture of smugness and disillusion makes him a perfect and easy target for the witch-hunters. But the film belongs to Pike. A brave choice given that she's mainly used in supporting roles, she is a mixture of the beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and just plain terrifying.

As the credits roll, you may be staring open-mouthed at the screen trying to figure out what the hell you have just witnessed. One shocking burst of violence especially jolts the film onto another level. The film stayed with me for a long time after, and it seemed implausible, glossy and almost like a soap opera. But Fincher pulls apart the idea of the happy, all-American family in a similar way to David Lynch. It may all be smiles and expensive lunch dates on the surface, but if you dig deeper, you may just find something horrifying. It's a commentary on America's tendency to put people on a trial by media, the loss of privacy due to social networking, the laughable idea of the 'nuclear family', and just a bloody good story to boot. This is Fincher's finest work since Zodiac (2007).


Directed by: David Fincher
Starring: Ben Affleck, Rosamund Pike, Carrie Coon, Kim Dickens, Patrick Fugit, Tyler Perry, Neil Patrick Harris
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #833: 'Life Itself' (2014)

As the title suggests, Life Itself is not content with being a simple biography of one of the greatest critics in the history of film, Roger Ebert. It's successful attempts at painting a broader picture of a life lived to it's fullest is helped by Ebert's active participation. At the time of filming, Ebert was hospital-ridden, undergoing one of many treatments throughout his decade-long battle with cancer, and knew he'd already lived longer than anyone expected. He takes pride in the fact that his final moments are being documented and calls the film his 'swan song', seeing it as a fitting end to a career spent analysing those in front of and behind the camera.

Based on his autobiography of the same name, Ebert clearly sees Life Itself just as much his film as it is of film-maker Steve James, whose film Hoop Dreams (1994) Ebert and long-time co-host Gene Siskel had both championed upon its release. He cracks wise using a computerised voice system (he was unable to speak at this point following the removal of his jaw), directs James to point the camera into the mirror in order to reveal the man behind it, and exchanges gleeful emails with the director following the capturing of something never seen in a documentary, some grisly suction footage. His loving wife Chaz is also an eternal presence, assisting her husband in any way she can.

Despite the friendship between film-maker and subject, the film doesn't chicken out and skip over Ebert's many flaws. In the early days of his career, when he was a cocky young journalist working for the Chicago Sun-Times, he spent his nights in a dingy bar with his colleagues, telling stories, chugging beer, and taking centre stage. He would walk home wishing he was dead, and it didn't take him long to realise he was an alcoholic. His friends and co-workers call him a show-off, the only child who always got his way. This is no more evident than in the stock footage of his work with Gene Siskel on At The Movies, where two highly competitive, argumentative, and fiercely intelligent men would bicker like children.

But there was a strange kind of love between he and Siskel, and we discover that Ebert was devastated to learn of his death at 53 from a brain tumour, something Siskel had kept from his long-time collaborator. And the love pours in by the bucket-load from his friends in the business, with the likes of Martin Scorsese, Ramin Bahrani, Errol Morris, Werner Herzog and Ava DuVernay, offering personal anecdotes of the man they clearly greatly admired and appreciated. As a biography, it's highly informative, but this the film retains most of it's power by celebrating a life lived to it's fullest, while respecting the lurking inevitability of death. The final emails exchanged between a dying Ebert and a none-the-wiser James is one of the most moving moments ever put onto film. This is the swan song the great man would have no doubt dreamt of.


Directed by: Steve James
Starring: Roger Ebert, Chaz Ebert
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #832: 'Fast & Furious 6' (2013)

There was once a time when this franchise retained a shred of realism. At the climax of the first film, The Fast and the Furious (2001), there is a moment in which a character must make a life-or-death leap from a moving truck into a moving car, both travelling at super-high speed along a straight road. Following the series' and its characters transition from loveable rogue criminals who dabbled in robberies and drag racing, into a super-group of international ass-kicking Robin Hood types, such distractions as the laws of physics are no longer an issue. Yes, this is the daftest entry yet, but the series shows no signs of fatigue, and, judging by the ever-increasing box office receipts, it won't be throwing in the towel any time soon.

After reaping the rewards of their multi-million dollar heist in the previous film, Fast Five (2011), the Fast & Furious gang are scattered and enjoying living the high life. Dom (Vin Diesel) is shacked up with Elena (Elsa Pataky), and Brian (Paul Walker) has seen the birth of his son Jack with Mia (Jordana Brewster). Han (Sung Kang) is in Hong Kong with Gisele (Gal Gadot), and Roman (Tyrese Gibson) and Taj (Ludacris) are indulging in a life of private plans, expensive suits, and an entourage of babes. However, their retirement is interrupted by the arrival of D.S.S. agent Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson), who brings Dom the shocking news that we were teased with in the post-credits scene of the fifth movie.

Dom's former girlfriend Letty (Michelle Rodriguez), believed to have been murdered in the fourth movie, Fast & Furious (2009), is in fact alive and kicking, and working with international terrorist Shaw (Luke Evans), a Brit whose criminal philosophies come into direct contrast with that of Dom's. To Shaw, his team are little more than moveable pieces to be manipulated and sacrificed for his own gain, while Dom believes in the sanctity of 'family'. After a thrilling set-piece involving Shaw escaping in a custom-made racing car through the streets of London (clearly the film-makers have never seen the traffic in the capital), Dom comes across Letty for the first time, who in return shoots Dom without blinking. It appears amnesia is to blame.

You have to hand it to long-serving franchise helmer Justin Lin, who is given the task of increasing the ante with every film, and always having to involve cars. And what better road vehicle to employ to increase the carnage than a tank? We get that and a plane, in what feels like the longest runway take-off ever seen on screen. As long as the plane is still on the ground, it doesn't stand a chance against Dom and co. With their evolution from petty criminals into fully-fledged heroes comes an inexplicable ability for hand-to-hand fighting. We get Letty take on series newcomer Riley (Gina Carano from 2011's Haywire) with roundhouse kicks and wrestling moves, and a slow-motion leaping headbutt from Diesel in what proves the film's giddiest, must ludicrous moment. And with the series finally catching up to the events seen in Tokyo Drift (2006), we are offered a glimpse at the next film's antagonist, which, I'm rather ashamed to say, is an exciting moment indeed.


Directed by: Justin Lin
Starring: Vin Diesel, Paul Walker, Dwayne Johnson, Jordana Brewster, Michelle Rodriguez, Tyrese Gibson, Sung Kang, Gal Gadot, Ludacris, Luke Evans, Gina Carano, Elsa Pataky
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #831: 'American Sniper' (2014)

Clint Eastwood's American Sniper is an uncomplicated film about a seemingly uncomplicated man. Bradley Cooper puts in another impressive performance as the tight-lipped, hulking marksman Chris Kyle, the most lethal sniper in U.S. military history, clocking up 160 confirmed kills over four tours of duty in Iraq. Seeing that many people assassinated through the scope of his own rifle must surely have weighted heavily on Kyle's shoulders, only we wouldn't know it as Eastwood offers such little complexity to the man that we learn virtually nothing about him.

The film is little more than one action scene after another. The opening scene, which sees Kyle faced with the awful decision of whether to take out a child he believes is holding a grenade and on his way towards a unit of American soldiers, is riveting. From then on, Kyle's scenes are a repetitive montage of enemy or civilian, shoot or don't shoot. When he's on the ground, the action is confusing, and with such slight character dimension offered to Kyle's comrades, the tragedy of their deaths hold little impact. It's also difficult to sympathise with Kyle himself, who is portrayed as little more than an ignorant racist who lives his life by his father's recognition of him being blessed with the gift of aggression.

This would all be fine if Eastwood provided any sort of context. If wars need these kind of men in order to be won, then make that the point. If the film is supposed to be an honest look at a remarkably efficient marksman of questionable ethics, then offer us a window into his motivation. Any references to a controversial war, it's legality, and the methods employed during the invasion are completely ignored. Feeling the need to stick to familiar movie tropes, Kyle is faced by a foe, the Iraqi sniper Mustafa (Sammy Sheik), who did not exist in real life. He is a faceless, near-wordless villain, someone to boo and hiss at. Like all the other enemy soldiers, no motivation, background or personality is provided.

There are a few good points. Usually the 'home life' scenes of any war movie grind the narrative to an unwelcome halt, but it's in these moments where we finally get a glimpse at Kyle the real person. His wife, played by a very impressive Sienna Miller, is a rock (but thinly written), and it's through her eyes that we see Kyle's struggles with PTSD. And Cooper is excellent, bringing what little humanity to his character as the script allows and bulking up to an enormous size to do the man he's portraying justice. But ultimately, the film left me feeling hollow. There is no feeling of the passing of time, little to engage with on an emotional level, and Eastwood's personal views on such a hot topic and divisive figure are non-existent.


Directed by: Clint Eastwood
Starring: Bradley Cooper, Sienna Miller, Keir O'Donnell, Luke Grimes
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #830: 'Fast Five' (2011)

Usually, the fifth instalment of a long-running franchise is a re-hash of what made the original so popular, becoming increasingly tiresome in the process. 2009's fourth entry, Fast & Furious, which saw the core cast members return from a two film hiatus, was surprisingly fun, being less about flashy cars, nameless gyrators and the underground world of street racing, and focused more on the 'family' of criminals to whom the plot was centred around. Returning director Justin Lin, who has been on board since 2006's Tokyo Drift, continues this idea and makes a movie more exciting and action-packed than the one's that came before.

After rescuing their friend Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) from a lengthy jail term, Brian O'Connor (Paul Walker) and his girlfriend Mia (Jordana Brewster) flee to Rio de Janeiro to evade capture. Whilst they await the arrival of Dom, they pull a job with old acquaintance Vince (Matt Schulze), from the first movie, capturing a set of cars seized by the D.E.A. on their way, by train, to the U.S. When they discover that two of their crew are only interested in one car, Dom - who arrives mid-heist - gets Mia to steal it herself and the rest barely escape with their lives. The car turns out to be the property of drug lord Reyes (Joaquim de Almeida), and contains a microchip detailing the whereabouts of his $100 million fortune.

In an attempt to open the franchise up to a wider audience, Fast Five sees the series change from underground street racing and petty criminality to full-on fisticuff action, bagging a huge ensemble to support it's aspirations to be a heist movie. And it works. This is still stuff of the cheesiest variety, ignoring the laws of physics and asking us to suspend our beliefs far too often, but the idea of these criminals - who evolve into Robin Hood-types - who help each other like a family is nice. Lin brings back familiar faces Roman (Tyrese Gibson), Tej (Chris 'Ludacris' Bridges), Han (Sung Kang), and Gisele (Gal Gadot), but it's a newcomer that steals the show.

As Hobbs, the enormous, baby-oiled D.S.S. agent assigned to capture Dom and his crew, Dwayne Johnson proves to be a great addition. With his ridiculous size, he's a credible threat to the likes of Dom, and their scenes together, including one inevitable smack-down, are laced with testosterone and a bit of humour, two things that Johnson does remarkably well. The main set-piece involves two cars dragging a stolen safe through the city streets, leaving a wave of destruction in their path. It's a gleefully ridiculous climax, and Lin proves himself wise by using minimal CGI. It doesn't break any boundaries or offer anything new to the genre, but it's a satisfying way to spend two hours with your brain on auto pilot mode.


Directed by: Justin Lin
Starring: Vin Diesel, Paul Walker, Jordana Brewster, Tyrese Gibson, Ludacris, Dwayne Johnson, Sung Kang, Gal Gadot, Matt Schulze, Elsa Pataky
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #829: 'Pale Flower' (1964)

Masahiro Shinoda's Pale Flower, like many products of the Japanese New Wave movement, is an immaculate mixture of the old and the new. Having studied under Ozu, Shinoda frames the film beautifully, taking influence from American film noir and the French New Wave to tell a story of ageing mobster Muraki (Ryo Ikebe) who is fresh out of prison. However, this is no straight-forward yakuza movie, and the film's loose plot and broodingly charismatic anti-hero are used at every turn to subvert the genre.

Having served his time for murder and winning the respect of his peers for keeping his mouth shut, Muraki drifts back into the life he once knew. It's a world of excessive gambling, and it's whilst partaking in an unfathomable game involving black chips that he meets the mysterious Saeko (Mariko Kaga), a beautiful girl with an unhealthy thirst for excitement. He is told that she comes every night and loses all of her money, only to come back the next day for more. Muraki is instantly drawn to her, and the two embark on an equally destructive, but not physical, relationship.

With his sharp suits, handsome face, perfect hair and nigh-on permanent black sunglasses, Muraki is the epitome of New Wave cool. But Pale Flower is a more than just an exercise in style. Like Alain Delon's character in Jean-Pierre Melville's Le Samourai, Muraki is a creature of violence stuck in an existential void. Loyal to his yakuza boss for seemingly no other reason than habit, he is constantly restless and bored. Saeko fiercely sparks his interest; as she embarks in a high speed car race with a man she's never met just for the thrill, Muraki watches her, hypnotised and confused.

Though we see her laugh orgasmically at the cheap thrills life can offer and talk about her desire to try heroin, there is little revealed about Saeko's inner thoughts and background. Muraki is drawn to her perhaps because she shares his disconnection with the structure of modern life, a common theme in the Japanese New Wave. Though the film is, for the most part, moody and intense, shrouded in shadows and cigarette smoke, Shinoda doesn't neglect to include some black humour. A running joke involving a severed fingers adds a nihilistic quality to the film, leading to a bleak ending that is powerfully fitting.


Directed by: Masahiro Shinoda
Starring: Ryô Ikebe, Mariko Kaga, Takashi Fujiki, Naoki Sugiura
Country: Japan

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #828: 'Magic Mike' (2012)

Magic Mike opens in a bright but subtly sleazy nightclub, with Matthew McConaughey's (following his dark turn in 2011's Killer Joe and continuing his recent career renaissance) strip-club owner Dallas, dressed in leather and a cowboy hat, stroking his private area and asking the ladies in the audience "can you touch this? No, no, no, no." But Magic Mike, loosely based on lead actor Channing Tatum's experiences as a stripper aged 18, shows that the ladies certainly can touch it, giving us a fascinating and slightly intoxicating insight into a male fantasy life, warts and all, and the lack of substance that comes with it.

Dallas's main attraction at his Xquisite Strip Club is 'Magic' Mike Lane (Tatum), who when he is not packing the club with screaming ladies, has threesome's with his kind-of girlfriend Joanna (Olivia Munn) and takes construction work to help fund his entrepreneurial aspirations. He meets college drop-out Adam (Alex Pettyfer) and calls in a favour after he helps Adam into a club one night, promising him paid work if he helps backstage while the men perform on it. Mike and Dallas eventually throw him on stage, and the ladies love him. But Adam has his demons, and his sister Brooke (Cody Horn), makes Mike promise to look out for him.

Although the film is primarily about Mike, the first third of the film mainly focuses on Adam, giving us a wide-eyed view-point into this seductive world of admiring women, endless parties, and all the uppers you could pray for. Mike seems custom made for this world and he embraces the g-strings, body oil, and all the superficialities that come with the job. But as he witnesses Adam's head-first plunge into self-destruction, he begins to wonder if the benefits of the job outweigh the ultimate cost. Director Steven Soderbergh manages to capture these moments with a sickly sordidness.

It also has a brighter side, with Tatum once again bringing a likeability to the all-American jock type. It's the first male stripper film since The Full Monty (1997) of any note, and the strip scenes are infused with an energy and a playfulness that is funny without mocking the industry. The dance routines are increasingly ridiculous, one in which has 'Big Dick' Richie (True Blood's Joe Manganiello) end his routine with the unveiling of his not-so-secret weapon, and Tatum busting some genuinely impressive moves. The romance that develops between Mike and Brooke is predictable but sweet, mainly thanks to Horn's performance, and it's about 20 minutes too long, but ultimately Magic Mike is an engaging and sometimes unconventional experience.


Directed by: Steven Soderbergh
Starring: Channing Tatum, Alex Pettyfer, Cody Horn, Matthew McConaughey, Olivia Munn, Joe Manganiello, Matt Bomer
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie