Review #1,436: 'Loving Vincent' (2017)

There have been many attempts over the years to comprehend the genius of Dutch artist Vincent van Gogh, from 1956's Lust for Life, to 1990's ambitious Vincent & Theo. While some of these movies are unquestionably good - perhaps none more masterful than Maurice Pialat's Van Gogh - the man himself remains an enigma, so filmmakers have now been forced to take more experimental measures when attempting to understand the painter who, while now regarded as one of art's most influential figures, only managed to sell one painting out of a rumoured 900 during his lifetime. Much focus is placed on the infamous ear-slicing incident, and this is where we began in Loving Vincent, a joint Polish and UK film that employed 125 painters to painstakingly recreate van Gogh's style over footage shot with actors in front of a green screen.

A year after van Gogh's suicide, postmaster and close friend of the troubled artist Joseph Roulin (Chris O'Dowd) tasks his street-fighting son Armand (Douglas Booth) with delivering van Gogh's final letter to his brother Theo. With questions surrounding the suicide still up in the air, Joseph finds van Gogh's sudden demise as suspicious, especially since the painter was in high spirits in the days leading up to the tragedy. It's a feeling that will eventually be shared by Joseph as he embarks on his journey, meeting faces familiar to us from van Gogh's portraits, including the likes of art dealer Pere Tanguy (John Sessions), cafe owner Adeline Ravoux (Eleanor Tomlinson) and close friend Doctor Gachet (Jerome Flynn). As Joseph learns of van Gogh's day-to-day life and his rocky relationship with Gachet and his daughter Marguerite (Saoirse Ronan), this may not be a cut-and-dry suicide carried out by an ear-chopping madman as previously thought.

By turning the subject of van Gogh into a dime-store detective story, Loving Vincent frequently runs the risk of tipping over into TV movie territory. What ultimately prevents this from happening is the time, care and love etched into every frame by directors Dorota Kobiela and Hugh Welchman and the tireless artists, who took approximately 6 years to recreate the likes of Starry Night, At Eternity's Gate and Bank of the Oise at Auvers, and weave these scenes into a convincing narrative. There's also great work by the ensemble cast, each bringing to life the portraits they're based on without feeling staged, and each character offering a unique viewpoint of van Gogh himself, and how he was treated by those around him. It's a fresh take on van Gogh's life, mixing traditional narrative with flashbacks and interpretations in the hope of understanding this mysterious figure or seeing him from a different angle. The man himself is here also, played by Robert Gulaczyk, but his actions and behaviours still remain a mystery. While the true crime slant is somewhat pulpy, Loving Vincent is a treat for fans of van Gogh's work, and undeniably crafted with tenderness and a genuine love of its subject.


Directed by: Dorota Kobiela, Hugh Welchman
Starring: Douglas Booth, Jerome Flynn, Saoirse Ronan, Helen McCrory, Chris O'Dowd, John Sessions, Eleanor Tomlinson, Aidan Turner
Country: Poland/UK/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,393: 'A Prayer Before Dawn' (2017)

Opening with a shot of the muscly, pale-skinned and heaving back of our protagonist, Jean-Stephane Sauvaire's A Prayer Before Dawn - his first feature since the eye-opening Johnny Mad Dog in 2008 - begins and ends with British newcomer Joe Cole, and the talented young actor dominates every scene in between. Best known for his role in Peaky Blinders, Cole delivers a performance of pure ferocity, and if there's any justice, this will do for him what the likes of Bronson and Starred Up did, respectively, for then up-and-comers Tom Hardy and Jack O'Connell. Based on Billy Moore's brutal memoirs of his time served in one of Thailand's most unrelenting penitentiaries, the film tracks his journey from the only Westerner in his cell with a target on his back to Muay Thai champion. While it may dabble in the tropes of the prison and boxing genres, it never really relaxes into either, making for an unsettling and visceral two hours.

Rather than opting for a comfortable, straight-forward narrative, Sauvaire prefers to capture the sweaty, overbearing atmosphere of Moore's new lodgings, heightening the sound design so every breath sounds like it's coming from your own head, and every punch rattles your brain. David Ungaro's cinematography makes the most of the tight, damp spaces, as the inmate's bodies pile over each other like sardines in their overcrowded cells. The film feels almost like an invasion of your personal space, and the fact that Billy sticks out like a sore thumb only increases the feeling that danger lurks around every corner. Billy's physicality and willingness to fight may save him from regular beatings and even earn him a level of respect amongst his heavily-tattooed, dead-eyed cell-mates, but he is still forced to watch the gang-rape of a young newcomer to remind the Westerner of his place. Although the story leads up to a climactic fight, it avoids cliche by offering no sense of build-up. Billy simply must fight in order to survive the night and battle his own pent-up demons.

Without a main character to carry your interest, A Prayer Before Dawn may be too much to bear. But Billy, whose reasons for being in Thailand in the first place and dealing the drugs that landed him in the slammer aren't explored, is a true force. Never asking for your sympathy, Billy struggles with heroin addiction - fed to him by a prison guard played by Only God Forgives' Vithaya Pansringarm - and is more than willing to beat somebody half to death to earn his fix. The rage that drives him comes from deep within, and his anger and self-destruction carries us along with him. Even when he is finally allowed to train in the gym, thanks for a routine cigarette bribe, his tendency to self-sabotage sees him almost screw up everything he's worked for. Billy also finds solace in a ladyboy named Fame (Pornchanok Mabklang), who is in prison for murdering her father and is kept in a separate part of the prison for obvious reasons. They form a bond through shared feelings of misplacement, and these scenes offer a reprieve from the unrelenting harshness of Billy's everyday routine. It's a tough watch, but there's always much to admire in a film that can leave you so mentally and physically exhausted.


Directed by: Jean-Stéphane Sauvaire
Starring: Joe Cole, Pornchanok Mabklang, Vithaya Pansringarm, Panya Yimmumphai
Country: UK/France/China/Cambodia/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,382: 'The Florida Project' (2017)

Sean Baker made his mark in 2015 with Tangerine, a comedy-drama about a transgender prostitute searching for their pimp in Hollywood. Originally it was lauded for being filmed on three iPhone 5s, but Tangerine eventually emerged as a powerful piece of work that gave a voice to a group of characters typically marginalised by society, and in a setting usually reserved for a more glamorous story. Baker continues his terrific work with his follow-up, The Florida Project, and although it boasts the presence of a famous face in Willem Dafoe, the writer/director has lost none of his social insight and gift for squeezing fantastic performances from an otherwise unknown cast. The setting is Florida, just outside of Disney World, where the struggles of the residents of a rather grim motel called the Magic Castle are in stark contrast to the paying tourists just across the road.

While many filmmakers would lean heavily on this metaphor, Baker has too much interest in his characters to make a big deal out of it. His main concerns lie with Moonee (Brooklynn Prince), a fierce little six-year old who, along with her neighbour friends Scooty (Christopher Rivera) and Jancey (Valeria Cotto), turn the areas surrounding the motel into their very own magic kingdom. They convince strangers to hand them money for ice-cream, beg for free waffles, and are generally a nuisance to everybody, especially motel manager Bobby (Dafoe). When we first meet the children, they are covering a neighbour's car with spit, but are soon made to clean up after themselves when the owner catches them in the act. It's rather disgusting to watch, but that's kids for you. Baker doesn't concern himself with weaning out sympathy for his characters, but simply wants to give them a voice. The Florida Project is light on plot but rich in drama. It feels as though any situation can combust at any moment, and this literally becomes the case when the gang come across an abandoned housing project.

Much of this sense of unease stems from Moonee's mother Halley (Bria Vinaite), who has recently lost her job and is forced to resort to more desperate measures to feed herself and her child. She is far from a great mother, or even a nice person, regularly taking advantage of Bobby's forgiving nature as she fails to meet rent deadlines and verbally abusing anybody who questions her. Simply telling it like it is is Baker's priority, and part of what makes The Florida Project so powerful is trying to piece together the path that led these characters to where they are, and how and why society allowed it. However, despite the heavy themes the film explores, this isn't the grey bleakness of Ken Loach. Cinematographer Alexis Zabe is always seeking the brightest part of the frame, whether it be Florida's sunny urban wilderness or a dimly-lit motel room. It makes for a surprisingly joyous experience, and this is helped to a great degree by the performances. Dafoe gives one of the best performances of his career, but its the unknowns who truly impress. Vinaite, who Baker found on social media, stomps her way through the film like a force of nature, and Brooklynn Prince is a truly astonishing find. It's further proof of Baker's keen eye, and it'll be interesting to see where he goes next.


Directed by: Sean Baker
Starring: Brooklynn Prince, Bria Vinaite, Willem Dafoe, Valeria Cotto, Mela Murder
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,380: 'Brawl in Cell Block 99' (2017)

For his debut film, 2015's Bone Tomahawk, writer, director and composer S. Craig Zahler delivered one of the most unforgettable films of the year. As it begins, Bone Tomahawk seems to be a familiar men-on-a-rescue-mission movie set in the Old West, with four vastly different personalities set up to clash on the way. If you've seen it, you'll know that the western tropes soon give way to something all the more horrifying and tense, before descending into a horrific gore-fest at the climax. It was one of the best films of 2015, and Zahler once again rummages around in the genre sack for his follow-up, Brawl in Cell Block 99, another unpredictable and incredibly violent genre-bender that seems to take much of its inspiration from the grindhouse films of the 1970s, both visually and tonally. It also features a career-best performance from a monstrous Vince Vaughn.

Bradley (Vaughn) is an ex-con and former drug addict earning an honest living at an auto-repair shop. When the state of the American economy ensures that his services are no longer required, the imposing giant returns home to the revelation that his wife Lauren (Jennifer Carpenter) has been having an affair for the past 3 months. Bradley deals with the situation calmly, informing his wife that he is to return to his drug-dealing roots to earn the cash required for a fresh start, but not before tearing her car apart with his bare hands. Fast forward 18 months later, and Bradley is still peddling drugs, getting involved with a Mexican gang and a couple of their idiot enforcers. When a deal goes horribly wrong, Bradley is sent to the slammer to serve a hefty 7 year sentence, but the cartel aren't quite done with him. In order to repay his debt for the lost property, he must carry out a hit under the orders of Euro-sleaze 'the Placid Man' (who else but Udo Kier?), otherwise a surgeon will remove the limbs of his unborn child and ensure that it lives on to be deformed. With his target in Cell Block 99, a maximum security prison ran by the sadistic Warden Tuggs (Don Johnson), Bradley must brutalise his way through the system until he is close enough to carry out the hit.

Brawl in Cell Block 99 begins as a slow-paced crime drama, establishing Bradley as a wall of strength when taking care of business, before moving on into wince-inducing, bone-cracking, head-stomping B-movie territory. It maintains an atmosphere of tension throughout, with each scene carrying a sense of dread and an expectancy that violence could erupt at any second. At the centre of it all is Vaughn, who laces the character with a dry wit and a simmering rage. He has no desire to hurt people without reason, so often turns his rage elsewhere. His first few minutes within a jail cell is spent looking for something, anything, to smash. But hurting people is what he does best, and he thumps, stomps and breaks his way through anyone foolish enough to stand between him and his quest to save his family. In many ways, the explosions of violence and gore mirror the second half of Bone Tomahawk, and while we may not understand why, it feels utterly exhilarating while we watch on between our fingers. It seems to have flown under many people's radar, somewhat unfairly, but cult adoration will surely come. It further cements Zahler's reputation as a filmmaker to keep an eye on, and while his second feature could certainly do with a 15 minute trim, Brawl in Cell Block 99 explores the nature of rage with ferocious and unflinching execution.


Directed by: S. Craig Zahler
Starring: Vince Vaughn, Jennifer Carpenter, Don Johnson, Udo Kier, Marc Blucas
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,357: 'American Made' (2017)

The toothy, clean-cut charm of Tom Cruise seems like an odd choice for the role of notorious drug trafficker and CIA operative Barry Seal who, during the 1970s, flew copious amounts of cocaine from Central America to the United States, as well as running guns to the Nicaraguan Contras on behalf of the American government. But the Barry Seal of Doug Liman's American Made isn't that far from Top Gun's Maverick, and the comparison is hard to avoid when we see Seal cheekily entertaining himself at the expense of his passengers and co-pilot while on a routine flight for TWA. Cruise slides into the role comfortably, running with the movie's lightning pace and offbeat humour. But his involvement also highlights Liman and writer Gary Spinelli's reluctance to explore this true story - which had devastating consequences for all countries involved - in more depth.

Set during a time when men ruled the sky and air hostesses were expected to drop their skirts at the very sight of a uniform, pilot Barry Seal is somewhat frustrated with his comfortable life, making a bit on the side by smuggling cigars into the US. This illegal side business is what attracts the attention of a CIA agent calling himself Monty Shafer (a brilliant Domhnall Gleeson), who asks Seal to fly over Central America to snap pictures for the American government. Seal's photographs are about as perfect as Shafer could hope for, and so he is rewarded with his very own plane and hangar and promoted to collecting information from Manuel Noriega of Panama in exchange for cash. Soon enough he is transporting guns to the US-backed Contras, and attracting even more attention. Only this time it's from Jorge Ochoa (Alejandro Edda) and his volatile partner Pablo Escobar (Mauricio Mejia) of the Medellin cartel, who want Seal to fly massive amounts of cocaine to Louisiana.

With the CIA turning a blind eye to Seal's drug trafficking exploits, Seal rakes in so much money that he is forced to bury huge quantities in his yard. This rags-to-riches-to-rags story is told in a conventional, linear fashion, with Liman resisting any urges to go all Scorsese on the subject matter. This kind of true life tale is nothing new, but it is a tale worth telling, especially when you factor in the American government's role in the shady operations, who arguably gave birth to the kind of man Barry Seal went on to become. Despite baring absolutely no resemblance to the real Seal, Cruise proves to be a great host, recording his story to camera on a wonderfully shoddy VHS in the movie's only brush with narrative flair. The main issue with American Made is that it claims to have a mind-blowing story to tell, but anyone who has seen the dizzying documentary Cocaine Cowboys or Netflix series Narcos will possess more information about how deep this thing went than the movie actually reveals. It aims to tell an entertaining story, and it certainly does just that, but the fact that it refuses to fully explore the consequences of Seal's actions means that it can never be anything more.


Directed by: Doug Liman
Starring: Tom Cruise, Domhnall Gleeson, Sarah Wright, Jesse Plemons, Caleb Landry Jones
Country: USA/Japan

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,351: 'My Friend Dahmer' (2017)

The antics of serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer following his graduation from Ohio's Revere High School in 1978 does not make for pleasant reading. He was responsible for the mutilation and murders of 17 men and boys, with his activities including injecting hydrochloric acid in the skulls of some of his victims in an attempt to induce a zombie-like state, the collection of body parts, necrophilia, and cannibalism. When Dahmer was arrested in 1991, multiple severed heads were found in his apartment, as well as human organs in the freezer wrapped up like leftover take-away. Dahmer attended school with cartoonist John 'Derf' Backderf, and the two became friends. When Derf saw his old pal's face splashed across the pages of every newspaper in the country after his capture, he reflected on his school days, eventually penning the award-winning graphic novel My Friend Dahmer.

There's always a risk when dramatising the life of a serial killer of sensationalising the subject matter or, perhaps even worse, trying to make us feel sorry for them. Director and screenwriter Marc Meyers' adaptation of Derf's comic has no such interests, opting instead to keep the focus solely on Dahmer's experiences during his high school years and up to his encounter with a hitchhiker who would become his first victim just three weeks after graduating, in the hope of trying to understand what would drive a handsome young man to go on to commit such terrible and sickening crimes. Dahmer, played wonderfully by former Disney child star Ross Lynch, is strange and withdrawn when we first meet him. Of course, this is no different to any child who feels out of place or socially awkward, and deep down he desired affection or at least the next best thing, attention. He starts to cause scenes by pretending to be disabled, acting out in lessons or in the hallways until he establishes himself as class clown.

This attracts the attention of Derf (played by Alex Wolff) and his crew, who are looking to stir up some mischief before they finally graduate. They play on Dahmer's willingness to do just about anything for a giggle, egging him on to sneak into as many club yearbook photos as possible and doing his handicapped shtick on demand. It's funny at first, before becoming incredibly tragic, and his friends start to feel the same way. Dahmer's mental state isn't helped by the break-up of his parents, and is eventually abandoned by his mother at home, leaving the troubled boy to withdraw further into his darkest fantasies. My Friend Dahmer succeeds in trying to understand Dahmer's downfall and how such a fate may have even been avoided if events went a slightly different way. It doesn't attempt to explain it or, thankfully, excuse it, avoiding the biography trap of unrealistically portraying a defining moment that led to whatever deed or life they are famous, or infamous, for. It's all rather sad, but utterly engrossing. My Friend Dahmer is that incredibly rare thing: a very good serial killer biopic.


Directed by: Marc Meyers
Starring: Ross Lynch, Alex Wolff, Dallas Roberts, Anne Heche, Vincent Kartheiser
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,350: 'Cargo' (2017)

Cinema has been over-saturated with zombie flicks ever since Danny Boyle made them cool again with 2002's 28 Days Later, with everyone from small-time filmmakers hoping to make it in the business to huge production companies tackling the undead, all with varying, but mostly disappointing, results. Even the master himself, George A. Romero, with a new trilogy of apocalyptic horrors failed to manage to breathe any new life into the genre he practically created. But every now and then a film will come along with something new to say, or at least offer a fresh perspective, such as Sang-ho Yeon's Train to Busan from last year, which got by on pure adrenaline and a breakneck pace, as well as placing its characters in an interesting dilemma.

Like Romero's classic Dawn of the Dead, some zombie movies stride to explore deeper concerns. While Dawn made fun of our growing consumerist society, this new effort from directors Ben Howling and Yolanda Ramke, Cargo, turns its eye to white guilt and Australia's treatment of Aboriginals. The already sparsely-populated Outback may seem an odd setting considering the walking dead's real strength lies in their sheer numbers, but Cargo isn't interested in delivering a splatter-fest. Instead, the focus is on a much smaller scale, exploring this brutal terrain through the narrow eyes of a father, Andy (Martin Freeman), and his one year-old daughter. (Plot spoilers follow in the next sentence) After losing his wife, Andy is bitten early on, so he is forced to leave the comforts of the boat he and his family have been sailing on for what must be a long time, in search of a new guardian for his defenceless child.

The government has been nice enough to hand out preparation packs for the population, which include every from a manual to a countdown device to a handy suicide pack. The length of time a character takes to turn is normally decided by their role in the story or the pay packet of the actor, with anyone disposable becoming a rotting lump of gun/baseball bat/crossbow fodder in mere seconds, and those of any importance allowed enough time to say something profound or whisper goodbye to their loved ones before attempting to eat their face. Here, it's much clearer. Infection takes near enough 48 hours to completely take over, with uncontrollable fits and coughing up brown mucus all things to look forward to as your body gives way. On his trek, Andy encounters a young Aboriginal girl named Thoomi (a fantastic Simone Landers), who is on her own quest to locate her wandering dead father. Thoomi and her tribe believe that you turn when your soul is lost, but there are plenty still alive and kicking out there whose souls have long turned rotten.

The dark side of the human race is embodied by Vic (Anthony Hayes), a large, sweaty chap who scavenges whatever he can from the zombies, having executed them after luring them with human bait. Those humans are the Aboriginals, locked up in huge steel cages with fresh meat hung around them to generate a smell. One of these is Daku (the great David Gulpilil), and his tribe is out searching for him. There's a tendency to employ indigenous people to lament our lost spirituality, but here they are perhaps the only ones truly prepared for life without comforts or a large, connected society. As the rest of the world tears itself apart, they band together and welcome others. Cargo still occasionally revels in genre tropes, but carries them out effectively, and an earlier introduction for Thoomi would have done the film wonders. Overall, this is pretty stirring stuff with a strong performance by Freeman, who gets to flex his dramatic muscles for once. Cargo isn't scary because of the snarling zombies, but by playing with our concerns of our loved ones' survival once we are gone.


Directed by: Ben Howling, Yolanda Ramke
Starring: Martin Freeman, Anthony Hayes, Susie Porter, Simone Landers, David Gulpilil
Country: Australia

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,336: 'The Hitman's Bodyguard' (2017)

The production companies behind The Hitman's Bodyguard, a buddy comedy starring Ryan Reynolds and Samuel L. Jackson, tried their very best to achieve an R-rating. That is, to throw in every swear word under the sun and puncture this otherwise generic and old-fashioned action flick with bone-crunching violence and CGI blood-spurting. But this is no Shane Black movie. Directed by The Expendables 3's Patrick Hughes and with a script by relative newcomer Tom O'Connor, The Hitman's Bodyguard fails to find the correct balance between humour, action and tone to warrant comparison to the likes of The Last Boy Scout or, more recently, The Nice Guys. The film simply lets the actors do what they are known best for and hopes for a positive outcome.

It begins by introducing UK-based security expert Michael Bryce (Reynolds), who prides himself on a triple-A rating and the fact that none of the rich types who employ his services have died under his protection. But his luxurious life and untarnished reputation comes to a grinding halt when a Japanese arms dealer receives a bullet through the brain. A couple of years later, Bryce has been demoted to protecting scumbags like the cocaine-snorting businessman Mr. Seifert (Richard E. Grant). He sees an opportunity to redeem himself when Interpol agent and ex-girlfriend Amelia Roussel (Elodie Yung) tasks him with transporting notorious hitman Darius Kincaid (Jackson) from Manchester to Amsterdam so he can testify in court. Only the man he is testifying against, Belarusian dictator Vladislav Dukhovich (a sleepwalking Gary Oldman), uses all of his power to disrupt their passage.

The two lead stars, regardless of how much fun it's looks like they're having, fail to inject much life into The Hitman's Bodyguard. Reynolds does his deadpan motormouth thing (Bryce is basically Deadpool without the costume or ability to regenerate limbs) and Jackson gets to scream "motherfucker!" a hell of a lot, but this simply isn't enough to justify the lack of any real jokes. There's the odd well-earned snigger, but you have to get through a lot of shouting to reach them, with Salma Hayek receiving the most thankless task as Kilcaid's sweary incarcerated wife. The action also fails to deliver. Although a boat chase through Amsterdam's canals is just preposterous enough to fleetingly entertain, the fights lack physicality and the gun-play is deprived of invention, with little real threat from the endless waves of Dukhovich's leather jacket-wearing goons. When a film feels the need to insert a fart joke, you know you're in trouble.


Directed by: Patrick Hughes
Starring: Ryan Reynolds, Samuel L. Jackson, Gary Oldman, Elodie Yung, Salma Hayek, Joaquim de Almeida, Richard E. Grant
Country: USA/Hong Kong/Bulgaria/Netherlands

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,335: 'Hostiles' (2017)

The tone is set very early on in Crazy Heart and Black Mass director Scott Cooper's latest slice of Americana, as a white family is set upon by a gang of blood-thirsty Comanches on horseback. The natives slaughter them all, including a young baby, all except for mother Rosalee (Rosamund Pike), who flees terrified into the wilderness soaked in blood and still clutching her dead child. It's a starling opening which is difficult to watch, and seems to set up an old-fashioned tale of good vs. bad with a modern twist. Only it isn't. As you can probably gather from the title, Hostiles is about the cycle of violence, fear and hatred on both sides of the coin, with the whites looking to settle in their newly colonised and unexplored land, while the natives seek to hold on to what they have by any means necessary. There's brutality on both sides, only the natives were there first.

Christian Bale plays Captain Joseph J. Blocker, a veteran officer known for the indifference with which he carries out his tasks, which mainly include rounding up nearby Apaches using a variety of questionable methods. In any other movie, Blocker may serve as the bad guy, but there's a discipline in his actions and a weariness in how he acts on his instincts. He and his close friend Master Sergeant Metz (an excellent Rory Cochrane) have taken about as much as they can take, and bear the scars of a life spent soaked in blood. Blocker is called to the office of Colonel Biggs (Stephen Lang) to receive his latest mission: to transport the dying war chief Yellow Hawk (Wes Studi) back to their home lands in Montana, as part of a political move under the instructions of the President. Under the threat of a court-martial, he agrees, and sets out on a long and perilous quest to help a man he still views as the enemy.

There is a lot to admire about Hostiles, especially the gorgeous cinematography by Masanobu Takayanagi, whose camera captures this vast and beautiful land as a sort of endless, mystical purgatory. The performances are stellar, with Bale and Pike leading a talented ensemble that also includes Jesse Plemons, Bill Camp, Q'orianka Kilcher, Adam Beach, Timothee Chalamet, Peter Mullan and Ben Foster. Yet there's a familiarity to the film's themes. The revisionist western movement has constantly depicted these times as cruel, representing the country's lowest moments, and it's no different here. The idea is that everyone can be hostile and capable of unspeakable acts when faced with mortal danger, something explored more profoundly in Cormac McCarthy's novel Blood Meridian. The poster may lead you to believe that the film is built around Blocker and Yellow Hawk's relationship, but Studi isn't given very much screen time, with the action focused more on the blossoming relationship between the grizzled Captain and the tragedy-stricken woman he stumbles upon and feels sworn to protect. Hostiles is interesting and occasionally riveting, but deeply flawed and lacking focus.


Directed by: Scott Cooper
Starring: Christian Bale, Rosamund Pike, Wes Studi, Rory Cochrane, Jesse Plemons, Adam Beach, Q'orianka Kilcher, Ben Foster, Stephen Lang
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,330: 'Lady Bird' (2017)

At first glance, this second feature from actor-turned-writer/director Greta Gerwig appears to be yet another quirky and twee little indie feature which made the cut as the obligatory low-budget entry into the Best Picture category at this year's Academy Awards. Yet Gerwig wasn't brought in by Noah Baumbach to co-write Frances Ha and Mistress America for nothing. She has a unique voice, and a keen eye for the smaller moments in life that most people didn't realise they had forgotten or missed. Lady Bird is riotously funny, incredibly relatable (for both sexes), and features two incredible lead performances. It's also profoundly authentic, and will have many female viewers (and some male) squirming in their seats as their own awkward memories of adolescence come pouring back.

It's 2002, and Christine McPherson (Saoirse Ronan) is an artistically-inclined teenager on the verge of leaving her Catholic high school and fleeing her home of Sacramento to attend college. She longs to be different and stand out from the crowd, opting to go by the nickname of 'Lady Bird' and dressing in a grungy, non-conformist way. She shares a relaxed relationship with her depressed father Larry (Tracy Letts), but struggles to communicate with her ball-busting but well-meaning mother Marion (Laurie Metcalf). The film covers her final days of school and her struggles to find her identity. Best friend Julie (Beanie Feldstein) is always there for her, but Lady Bird is more interested in pursuing her burgeoning sexuality and trying to fit in with the cool, richer kids. All the disappointments of teenage life await her, but she firmly believes that life will only truly start once she escapes her childhood home.

The focus is primarily on Lady Bird's concerns, but this is also a story of a young girl struggling to communicate with her mother. Marion does all she can to help her daughter find the best life for herself, such as working long shifts at the hospital and maintaining a steady routine at home, but she is also burdened with unrealistic expectations and emotionally scarred by her own abusive childhood. Their relationship is summed up in the opening scene, as Lady Bird opts to jump out of a moving vehicle and break her arm rather than listening to her mother voice an opinion. The dynamic forms the film's backbone, and their quick-tempered back-and-forths will be familiar to many. Both Ronan and Metcalf are outstanding in their roles, finding sympathy for their characters when they are at their most flawed and unreasonable. Gerwig finds the perfect balance between light and dark, taking the edge off when events get a little too familiar with some beautifully-timed comedy. Lady Bird will no doubt launch Gerwig onto bigger and better things.


Directed by: Greta Gerwig
Starring: Saoirse Ronan, Laurie Metcalf, Tracy Letts, Lucas Hedges, Timothée Chalamet, Beanie Feldstein
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,327: 'You Were Never Really Here' (2017)

In the latest offering from the great cinematic filmmaker Lynne Ramsay, Joaquin Phoenix stars as a psychologically scarred combat veteran who dishes out his own particularly brutal brand of justice without blinking an eye. With his massive beard generously flecked with grey and straggly long hair tightly pulled back into a man-bun, he hasn't looked so dishevelled since his faux-public breakdown for Casey Affleck's mockumentary I'm Still Here in 2010. His clothes look like they haven't been washed in months, and there's a redness look in his eyes that hints at a lack of sleep or a reliance on prescription medication. He is packing a bit of a gut and a lack of definition, but he carries himself like a fearless UFC fighter bounding into the ring, ready and eager to destroy whoever is thrown in with him. His character, Joe, is a modern day Travis Bickle. Yet while you would cross the street in fear that Bickle may say or do something weird, you would flee from Joe just in case he bashes your skull in with a hammer.

You Were Never Really Here, based on the novel by Jonathan Ames, is an incredibly violent, unflinching picture. But Ramsay is an intelligent, thoughtful filmmaker, way more interested in characters and mood to be distracted by the many horrors on show. She doesn't dwell on the violence, and instead views it through the eye of a security camera, or a half-seen reflection in a mirror. Sometimes even the sound alone, combined with Jonny Greenwood strange and hypnotic score, is more than enough to creature a vivid picture in your mind of what is transpiring. Ramsay simply isn't interested in visualising the bloodshed, and this shrewd approach skilfully makes the many horrific acts committed by Joe all the more wince-inducing. Her focus rests purely with Joe himself, beginning with a portrait of a man long pushed over the edge, before journeying even more inward and downward.

Joe earns his keep by hiring himself out for covert missions that may require action not necessarily permitted by law. A purposefully confusing and violent opening sets the tone: Joe is simply not to be messed with, and does not flinch at the possibility of violence. He has a reputation for brutality, which is precisely the reason he is paid by frustrated parents to find missing kids, usually those kidnapped for sex trafficking purposes, by man-in-the-middle John McCleary (The Wire's John Doman). In his downtime, he also cares for his elderly mother (Judith Roberts). Ambitious young New York Senator Albert Votto (Alex Manette) wants Joe to locate his missing daughter Nina (Ekaterina Samsonov), and carry out whatever it takes to make her abductors suffer for their crimes. Joe accepts the job, and it doesn't take long for him to find the shell-shocked teenager. What happens next would be venturing into spoiler territory, but Joe is sent down a dark path to redemption, unravelling a conspiracy way above his pay grade.

Despite what many critics have said, You Were Never Really Here isn't Lynne Ramsay's best film, and will surely be her most divisive. Some parts just don't work: Although it is by no means integral to film's themes and focus, the revelations of Joe's investigations may have attracted Liam Neeson with a vastly different director at the helm, and the final scene, which touches on fantasy, clashes uncomfortably with what came before. But these issues don't affect the film's sheer impact. At its best, You Were Never Really Here is pure cinema, dragging you through the squalor by the neck and plunging you into the mind of a truly damaged soul. I haven't felt so beaten up - in a good way - by a movie since the first time I saw Elem Klimov's Come and See. As Joe, Phoenix has probably never been better. He is a ticking time-bomb, favouring the use of a hammer against his enemies. In one of the film's finest scenes, Joe is asked by a young girl to take a picture of her and her friends. He mumbles and agrees, before a close-up of the girl reveals her to be crying. Is this a hallucination, or has she seen the pain etches across his face? Reality and dreams are melded together into a 90-minute punch to the gut, and Ramsay proves once again why she is one of the greatest working filmmakers.


Directed by: Lynne Ramsay
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Judith Roberts, Ekaterina Samsonov, John Doman, Alessandro Nivola
Country: UK/France/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,326: 'The Post' (2017)

Steven Spielberg's The Post is the great director's most handsome film in years. Shot quickly and clinically while he waited for the effects to be finished for Ready Player One, the film, if anything, is a sign of just how masterful he is at his craft. Starring A-list heavies Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks, The Post tells the story of the Pentagon Papers, leaked by disgruntled military analyst Daniel Ellsberg, which revealed that the President knew the war in Vietnam could not be won early on in the conflict. Many young men were drafted anyway, and sent to their deaths half a world away from home. The New York Times had the story first, but were threatened with a court injunction in an attempt to halt the publication of a series of planned articles which would damage the reputation of many high-ranking officials, including the President himself.

It's a story Spielberg felt needed to be told now, and for good reason. There are many parallels to the modern day, only nobody here is forced to live out their days hiding in an Ecuadorian embassy or assassinated with poison. When The Washington Post is handed the story themselves (by a hippy girl who dumps a package on the first desk she sees), editor-in-chief Ben Bradlee (Hanks) immediately decides that the revelations must be released to the public. Being the intelligent man he is, Bradlee had long suspected that the Times had their hands on something huge, and refuses to be silenced by the government of a country whose right to free speech is written in its very constitution. The Post depicts the newspapers search to locate the source of the leak, and Bradlee's relationship with publisher Kay Graham (Streep). The heiress and socialite has her own reservations about the newspaper's upcoming stock market launch, and how the Papers will affect the reputation of her close friend Robert McNamara (Bruce Greenwood).

There's an earthy, smoky quality to the 1970's-set The Post. Spielberg manages to capture the sweaty urgency of some of the great movies to emerge from Hollywood in its greatest decade, with All the President's Men being the most obvious comparison. In a world now filled with information at the swipe of a thumb, it's exciting and invigorating to see Ben Bagdikian (Bob Odenkirk) spills his pay-phone quarters onto the floor as he desperately searches for a pen, or the sight of Ellsberg (Matthew Rhys) holed up in a motel with thousands upon thousands of printed pages stacked all around the place. The large ensemble, which also includes Sarah Paulson, Tracy Letts, Carrie Coon, Jesse Plemons, Bradley Whitford, Alison Brie, Michael Stuhlbarg and David Cross, is impressive across the board, and although its hardly a stretch for such seasoned screen giants, Streep and Hanks - the former a fumbling yet oblivious feminist icon and the latter a cranky but good-hearted fighter - help the film to be incredibly watchable. It doesn't offer any further insights into a story many will already know, and Ellsberg is somewhat sidelined, but The Post is a timely stance against anyone looking to threaten the right to free speech and the freedom of the press.


Directed by: Steven Spielberg
Starring: Meryl Streep, Tom Hanks, Sarah Paulson, Bob Odenkirk, Tracy Letts, Bradley Whitford, Bruce Greenwood, Matthew Rhys, Alison Brie, Carrie Coon
Country: USA/UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,325: 'All the Money in the World' (2017)

It wouldn't be fair to Ridley Scott's latest film to dwell too much on the revolting allegations that came out regarding Kevin Spacey and his sexually aggressive behaviour, yet the 80 year-old's reaction to the news and subsequent quick-thinking led to one of the most impressive aspects of All the Money in the World. Filming had already wrapped with Spacey in the lead donning heavy prosthetic makeup, but Scott quite rightly opted to remove the disgraced actor from the final product entirely, save for one scene in which his face is digitally replaced. Scenes were re-shot in an astonishing nine days, with Scott's initial first choice Christopher Plummer now playing the role of tycoon J. Paul Getty.

The result is not a film that appears to be quickly patched together, but one that seamlessly pieces together the old footage with the new. As Getty, you will believe that Plummer was present for the duration. He effortlessly balances Getty's occasional playfulness with his more tyrannical and stubborn sides, and he cuts an impenetrable yet enigmatic figure. Questions surrounding his refusal to pay his grandson's ransom when the 16 year-old is kidnapped in Rome forms the film's biggest mystery. Is he concerned that coughing up the dough will only inspire the kidnapping of more vulnerable heirs to vast fortunes? Does he believe that John Paul Getty III (played by Charlie Plummer, no relation) arranged the whole thing himself to get a slice of the action? Or is he simply a stingy old man, seeing no reason to spend a dime on something he sees as a bad business deal?

At the time, oil-rich Getty was not only the richest man on the planet, but the richest man there had ever been. It would seem that he never invested without the promise of a return. The old coot spends much of his time in dark, grandiose rooms within his spectacular mansion, pouring over the latest figures as if every cent must be accounted for. When he is informed that his favourite yet wayward grandchild has disappeared, his eyes never leave the books. We are informed via flashback that Getty III's parents, Gail Harris (Michelle Williams) and John Paul Getty Jr. (Andrew Buchan), divorced years earlier due to the latter's drug abuse, with the mother receiving full custody. This, in J. Paul's eyes, was a betrayal, and possibly the first time he has lost something he couldn't simply throw money at. There's also the possibility that malice may be driving the stinking-rich old man's complete disinterest in paying what is a small sum in the context of his vast fortune. It takes the arrival of a severed ear make him re-consider.

Like many of Scott's recent efforts, All the Money in the World has its flaws, albeit far fewer than the likes of Robin Hood or Alien: Covenant. If there is a blemish on what is a stellar cast, its Mark Wahlberg as Getty's former CIA operative adviser Fletcher Chace. While everybody else disappears into their role, he can only muster his Boston everyman act and sticks out like a sore thumb. For a film that initially takes its time developing the characters and their backgrounds, it can't help but introduce tired tropes which didn't occur in real life, such as the sympathetic kidnapper Cinquanta (Romain Duris) and a climax involving a desperate chase through the streets. Still, Scott manages to keep us engrossed in the story, ramping up the tension with a frantic pace whether you know how it played out in real life or not. This is the director back to his The Martian best, and how he cannot seem to replicate this quality when he diverts into the Alien franchise is a head-scratcher. And  Christopher Plummer is truly exceptional.


Directed by: Ridley Scott
Starring: Michelle Williams, Christopher Plummer, Mark Wahlberg, Romain Duris, Charlie Plummer, Timothy Hutton
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,322: 'Phantom Thread' (2017)

A new film from writer and director Paul Thomas Anderson is always a cause for celebration among film buffs. Apart from his underwhelming 1996 debut Hard Eight and 2014's messy Inherent Vice (which I still enjoyed despite the constant head-scratching), Anderson's output is always something to savour with repeat viewings. But his latest, a sumptuous and idiosyncratic love story set in 1950's London, is not only noteworthy for being the work of the one of the finest filmmakers of recent times, but for the announcement that this will be the final big screen appearance of Daniel Day-Lewis, an actor whose frequent returns to cinema after long periods away always mark a reason to sit up and get excited.

Day-Lewis plays Reynolds Woodcock, a famous fashion designer who creates the most wonderful and elegant dresses for the ladies of high society, who clearly pay top dollar for his services. He is charismatic and handsome, but also impulsive and quick-tempered. Woodcock is a man of routine who insists on starting the day with a large breakfast and, most importantly, quiet. We first meet him sharing the breakfast table with his latest squeeze, and he scowls at the sight of a pastry offered by her. His sister Cyril (Lesley Manville), who he shares his large residence with, has witnessed her brother's cycle of excitement and boredom with attractive ladies many times before, and quickly sets up plans to remove the poor girl from their home and his life. He talks of his late mother and a growing sense of unease. It's clear he's in dire need of a new muse to keep the creative juices flowing.

His mood quickly improves when he has breakfast at a nearby hotel and has his attention grabbed by the clumsy yet beautiful Alma (Vicky Krieps). He invites her to dinner and does most of the talking, telling stories of his past and his fondness for sowing hidden messages within the dresses he creates. In his own suit jacket, he keeps a lock of his mother's hair. Alma is swept away by this charming man, and agrees to a dress fitting despite the intimidating presence of Cyril. Soon enough, she notices a gradual change in Woodcock's mood, and Cyril braces herself for the inevitable. But Alma loves and feels that she understands the mysterious and exciting genius, and concocts a plan to keep a hold of him forever. Indeed, Phantom Thread is possibly the oddest and most mesmerising love story since Punch-Drunk Love, Anderson's 2002 dark comedy and still his greatest film to date.

The director has always worn his influences on his sleeve, and Phantom Thread is infused with an aura of Kubrick, and a heavy lashing of Hitchcock. It's probably his most straight-forward film, but there is an obliqueness to the story also. The narrative veers off into almost fairy-tale territory, as Alma sets in motion her grand scheme. It all moves along at a dazzling, hypnotic pace with the assistance of Johnny Greenwood's classical score and Anderson's constantly gliding camera. If this is truly the final performance of Daniel Day-Lewis, he is certainly ending in a high note with one of the finest performances of his career and further cements his place as one of, if not the, finest actor to ever grace our screens. Manville is also fantastic as the cold and shrewd Cyril, a woman who has seemingly dedicated her life to her mummy's-boy sibling, with whom she shares a relationship that often feels incestuous. Krieps is radiant, simmering with intensity as she refuses to become yet another muse to be shown a quick exit. Phantom Thread is not for everyone, but Anderson's films never are. Despite the period setting, this is a truly modern love story, and one with the power to both warm the heart and genuinely horrify.


Directed by: Paul Thomas Anderson
Starring: Daniel Day-Lewis, Vicky Krieps, Lesley Manville, Brian Gleeson, Gina McKee
Country: USA/UK

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,317: 'The Shape of Water' (2017)

Guillermo del Toro's latest immersive fantasy spectacle began life as a remake of one of the Mexican director's favourite movies of all time - the iconic monster movie Creature from the Black Lagoon. When he pitched his plans to Universal, perhaps as part of their troubled 'Dark Universe' franchise which kicked off last year with spectacular misfire The Mummy, he wanted to tell a love story between the Gill-Man and a woman from the perspective of the titular creature. This idea, which sounds like a dream for film buffs but a turn-off for studio executives, was rejected outright, presumably being for too risque for mainstream audiences. Del Toro stuck with it anyway, and the script turned into The Shape of Water. Would the same film have nabbed the Best Picture at this year's Academy Awards if it was titled Creature from the Black Lagoon? I think not, so it worked out well for everybody apart from Universal, who are probably still licking their wounds from last year's Tom Cruise-starring horror show.

The Shape of Water tells the story of Elisa Esposito (Sally Hawkins), a mute lady who lives in an almost dreamlike apartment above a barely-used cinema called The Orpheum. We quickly learn everything we need to know about her in a wonderfully edited opening sequence, in which she boils eggs, masturbates in the bath, and pays a visit to her neighbour Giles (Richard Jenkins), all before heading off to a top secret government facility where she works as a cleaner. Giles spends most of his time alone with his cats in his apartment, paying the bills by drawing product advertisements, occasionally venturing out to buy pies from a nearby diner and lust after the young man behind the counter. Elisa's best friend and co-worker Zelda (Octavia Spencer) saves her a space in the queue for the clocking-in machine every morning, and has learned sign language so the two can chit-chat whilst carrying out their mundane job of cleaning piss up off the floor and, much to Zelda's befuddlement, the ceiling.

This is 1962 America, where the happy (and white) nuclear family is the very definition of achieving the American dream, but also where minorities are still looked down upon. It's no accident that Elisa, who rarely stops smiling even when she is treated differently for her affliction, is closest to and most comfortable around a gay man and a black woman. The arrival of a strange amphibian humanoid from a swamp in South America and the loving bond it gradually forms with Elisa represents a threat to this very American way of life, at least in the eyes of Richard Strickland, a brutish military official who caught the creature, played with sheer menace by Michael Shannon. Strickland wants to cut the creature open to learn if its abilities can be forged into some kind of weapon, and to keep it out of the hands of the Soviets. Mild-mannered scientist Robert Hoffstetler (Michael Stuhlbarg) wants to keep it alive for further study, but Strickland is given the green light by his superior.

What follows is a daring break-out and Elisa's efforts to keep the stranger hidden in her apartment. The story isn't exactly ground-breaking, and you can probably work out where the film is heading quite early on. However, The Shape of Water isn't a film about surprises and twists, but a strange tale of forbidden love to utterly immerse yourself in. Most directors would struggle to capture a sex scene between a beautiful woman and a slimy fish man with a straight face, but del Toro somehow makes the whole thing feel natural, and most importantly, incredibly beautiful. Longtime del Toro collaborator Doug Jones does some stellar physical work as the creature, forging a chemistry with Hawkins without the benefit of facial expressions or dialogue, relying on otherworldly howls and the odd bit of sign language to communicate. It warrants comparison to del Toro's Pan's Labyrinth, and although it's not as good as the 2006 Oscar-winning masterpiece, it shares much of its creepy magic and vintage character design, and also reflects on a country's troubled past. It's the riskiest and best work del Toro has done since. Suck in a deep breath and take a plunge.


Directed by: Guillermo del Toro
Starring: Sally Hawkins, Michael Shannon, Richard Jenkins, Octavia Spencer, Michael Stuhlbarg, Doug Jones
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,316: 'Paddington 2' (2017)

Paul King's Paddington was one of the great surprises of 2014: a re-imagining of a world-famous character beloved not only to children, but to the adults who grew up reading Michael Bond's stories or watching the various television incarnations since the 1970s. Aesthetically, it shared very little in common with the charmingly old-fashioned and quaint little adventures penned by Bond and illustrated by Peggy Fortnum, but shared much of its heart. Most who saw Paddington fell quickly under its spell, which was a wonderful amalgamation of Wes Anderson and Jean-Pierre Jeunet's proudly artificial visual splendour and the stiff upper lipped playfulness of Ealing Studios. This sequel's arrival is more than welcome, if not only to make us forget what's happening out there in the real world, but to allow us to spend more time in the company of Ben Whishaw's endearingly clumsy yet optimistic bear.

In almost every way, Paddington 2 is an improvement on its predecessor. The return of King and his co-writer Simon Farnaby is a no-brainer, and they have not only grown in confidence and in their willingness to push their kooky boundaries even further, but they have fixed what was arguably a weak link first time around - the villain. Nicole Kidman had a ball as evil taxidermist Millicent Clyde, but here they have tried something less terrifying for kids in Phoenix Buchanan, a washed-up thespian who dreams of bringing his one-man show to the West End, but finds himself in humiliating dog-food television adverts instead. Casting Hugh Grant was a stroke of genius, and it's no stretch to say that this is the finest he has ever been. He's pompous and full of himself, but takes pride in his ability to disappear into his characters. His desire to spark his festering career back to life leads to the theft of a valuable pop-up book from the store of Mr. Gruber (Jim Broadbent), which holds clues to the location of a treasure chest hidden somewhere in London.

Phoenix Buchanan may steal the film, but the attention rarely strays too far from the titular hero, who is once again voiced pitch-perfectly by Whishaw. He was Colin Firth's last-minute replacement first time around when the Kingsman actor's efforts didn't quite feel right, and it's difficult to imagine any other actor behind Paddington's soft features and wide-eyed curiosity. When we first meet him, it's clear that the charming little bear's community wouldn't quite function without him. The Brown family, again played by Hugh Bonneville, Sally Hawkins, Julie Walters et al, are happily getting on with their lives, although dad Henry is experiencing a midlife crisis at work and with his ageing appearance. With Aunt Lucy's 100th birthday coming up, Paddington finds the perfect present in the pop-up book of London in Mr. Gruber's store, which he hopes will compensate for the elderly bear never being able to see the big city for herself. He starts to work odd jobs to save up for the pricey gift, but all suspicion falls on Paddington when Buchanan steals the book for himself.

He is sentenced to ten years in prison for the crime, and if that seems unnecessarily harsh, you'll understand why when you see the film. This may seem like a somewhat grim direction for a family film to take, but thanks to a mishap involving a stray red sock in the laundry room, the scenes within the jail are some the film's funniest. This is also thanks to the character of Knuckles McGinty, the fearsome chef played brilliantly by Brendan Gleeson who Paddington naturally befriends over some marmalade sandwiches. Paddington 2 is unashamedly fanciful stuff, presenting a fantasy vision of London where the sun always shines and people on the street always greet you with a smile. It's an image many foreigners will no doubt have of the capital, but there's nothing wrong with playing up to this, especially when the film's fantasy sequences are quite as wonderful as they are. Production designer Gary Williamson and animation director Pablo Grillo are a crucial part of this, and King, who always displayed a flair for the fantastical in his early TV work, surely also had a hand in Paddington 2's overall magical feel.


Directed by: Paul King
Starring: Ben Whishaw, Hugh Bonneville, Sally Hawkins, Hugh Grant, Brendan Gleeson, Julie Walters, Jim Broadbent, Tom Conti, Peter Capaldi
Country: UK/France/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie