Review #1,471: 'The Sisters Brothers' (2018)

French filmmaker Jacques Audiard has made a name for himself by focusing on morally-conflicted lead characters surviving any way they can in an environment they have no real control over. Whether it be the brutal prison setting of A Prophet, the street brawls of Rust and Bone, or the Sri Lanka torn apart by civil war in Dheepan, Audiard seems most at home when tossing his lead character in the deep end and observing as the survival instincts inevitably kick in. There is perhaps no greater time and place to explore humanity at its most savage and uncivilised as the Wild West, so Audiard feels right at home among the shootouts, saloon fights and general lawlessness of his latest film, the curiously-titled The Sisters Brothers.

Based on the novel by Patrick deWitt, The Sisters Brothers follows the titular siblings Eli (John C. Reilly) and Charlie (Joaquin Phoenix), two apparent opposites who seem to tolerate each other for their shared bloodline only. While their overall outlook on life couldn't be further apart, one skill the pair undoubtedly share is a knack for killing, and their exploits have granted them an almost mythical status throughout the land. They are hired killers in the employment of a shady businessman known only as the Commodore (Rutger Hauer), and their latest job is to track down and kill chemist Hermann Kermit Warm (Riz Ahmed), who has supposedly stolen from the old man. Their journey takes them from Jacksonville to San Francisco, but the mission is plagued by misfortune. Encountering everything from bear attacks to venomous spiders to rival hired hands, these mishaps allow plenty of time for the brothers to reflect on their life choices and their future, if they are ever to make it out alive.

As the elder of the brothers, Reilly's Eli hopes to eventually settle down and walk away from a life where death seems to await them at every turn. The drunken, unpredictable Charlie believes their lives couldn't get any better, and cannot imagine a world where his brother is not at his side. Little by little their backstories are revealed, and although he shares his younger sibling's flair for murder, it becomes clear that Eli's life would have turned out quite differently if he wasn't forced to pick up the pieces left in the wake of Charlie's destructive nature. The two actors are so good together that the film slows down when the action moves away from them, and more time is spent developing the relationship between Warm and softly-spoken private detective John Morris (Jake Gyllenhaal). Morris is actually working with the Sisters, but has a change of heart when Warm reveals his water-based formula that will potentially turn the tide for gold prospecting.

While these little detours slightly derail the film's pace, they prove intriguing enough in their own right. Despite the brutality of their surroundings and the natural hostility of the unexplored frontier, Warm and Morris are tidier, more articulate, and completely at odds with the survivalist nature of the anti-heroes of the title. They hint at a changing world, and the way the Old West is imagined by cinematographer Benoit Debie - shot in Spain - would be more at home with the auteur-driven revisionist westerns of the 1970s, but not so different to cause traditionalists to scoff. The key ingredients are all there: bursts of violence, whiskey-drenched brothel visits, and a long, perilous journey across country; but there is a sensitive, character-driven drama at its core. It was billed as a comedy of sorts upon its release, and although there are certainly laugh-out-loud moments, they serve only to reinforce the humanity lurking within its murky characters.


Directed by: Jacques Audiard
Starring: John C. Reilly, Joaquin Phoenix, Jake Gyllenhaal, Riz Ahmed, Rebecca Root, Rutger Hauer
Country: France/Spain/Romania/Belgium/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,416: 'Mandy' (2018)

Horror fans were foaming at the mouth as soon as the first trailer dropped for Panos Cosmatos' Mandy - a hallucinogenic mash-up of revenge thriller and psychedelic horror featuring a Nicolas Cage well and truly off the leash. And for good reason. Whilst Mandy may not have much to offer in terms of plot and actual meaning, as a purely sensory experience, this 80's heavy metal album come-to-life will get certainly get a rise out of you, whether you're on the film's side or not. The story concerns lumberjack Red Miller (Cage) and his artist girlfriend Mandy (Andrea Riseborough), who live in peaceful solitude in a cabin in the woods. They talk of their favourite planets and never leaving their isolated home, but their happy existence is soon to be pulled away from them. Nearby, a cult led by failed musician Jeremiah Sand (Linus Roache) happen to be passing through, and once the Manson-like prophet lays his eyes on Mandy, he simply must have her.

Sand trusts his second-in-command Brother Swan (Ned Dennehy) to kidnap Mandy and bring her to him, and he does so by summoning a band of leather-draped demons who look like they've stumbled off the set of the latest Hellraiser film. They tie Mandy up and force-feed her LSD in preparation for Jeremiah's grand seduction, which includes playing her his terrible music and flashing his naked torso. When Mandy doesn't play ball, they punish her insolence in front of the bound Red, who watches in horror as his one true love is snatched away forever. They leave Red for dead, only the gruff lumberjack manages to escape to plan his bloody revenge. Handed a small arsenal of brutal weapons by his friend Caruthers (Bill Duke), Red aims to take out the bikers first, before moving on to the hippy freaks. What unfolds is a sequence of battles played out almost like a computer game, as Red cuts, chops and snaps his way up to the main target. This is the kind of film in which an early sighting of a chainsaw is of a promise of its reappearance later down the line (and it'll be way better than you expected).

If you've ever slipped on some headphones, blasted out some classic heavy metal, and dropped a shit-ton of LSD, then you'll have likely experienced something similar to Mandy. Backed by a magnificently industrial score by the late Johan Johannsson, Mandy is a trip from start to finish. The first hour moves at a crawl, moving its characters into place and easing us into this strange world of scorched red skies and masked hitmen in gimp suits, before unleashing a second hour of hardcore violence and Nic Cage at his most Nic Cage-iest. The scene in which Cage breaks down in a bathroom drinking whatever vodka he doesn't pour into his gaping wounds while not wearing trousers would usually be the stuff of unintentional comedy gold, but it's actually damn fine acting, closer to Face/Off crazy than Dog Eat Dog crazy. Little makes sense and the characters spit hokey dialogue like something out of the fantasy novels Mandy loves so much, but the whole experience is so cerebral and in-your-face that it's difficult not to get swept up into the madness. It will divide most down the middle, between those who will find the pace and intensity off-putting and those who will appreciate the VHS-murkiness of it all. Personally, I'm somewhere in between. At two hours, it's too long, but there's a breathtaking 100-minute movie in there somewhere.


Directed by: Panos Cosmatos
Starring: Nicolas Cage, Andrea Riseborough, Linus Roache, Ned Dennehy, Richard Brake, Bill Duke
Country: USA/Belgium/UK

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,312: 'The Death of Stalin' (2017)

After spending most of the 1990s helping create the likes of The Day Today and I'm Alan Partridge - two of the greatest comedy works to have ever come out of Britain - satirist Armando Iannucci really made a name for himself with The Thick of It, a political farce centred around a bunch of politicians and spin doctors within a fictional government department going to ridiculous lengths to further their own careers and avoid the sack at the behest of an unseen prime minister. This led to the brilliant spin-off feature film In the Loop, before he would go on to tackle U.S. politics with acclaimed HBO series Veep. These groundbreaking satires now seem like they were a mere warm-up for his most ambitious project yet, The Death of Stalin, which covers the panic-stricken aftermath following the demise of one of the Soviet Union most notorious dictators, Joseph Stalin.

For the film, Iannucci has gathered together some of the finest British actors working today: those who are as comfortable with improvisation as they are with brooding monologues. Michael Palin is Molotov, the nervously chirpy minister who remained loyal to Stalin after the execution of his wife; Andrea Riseborough is Svetlana, Stalin's emotionally crumbled daughter; and Rupert Fried is the drunken son Vasily. Most impressive of all is Simon Russell Beale as the reptilian Lavrenti Beria, a man renowned for his love of rape and torture who is now desperately picking up the scraps and trying to seize power. Working against Beria is Steve Buscemi's Khrushchev, the former cabinet jester who may actually be the country's best bet. Trying to hold it all together is Jeffrey Tambor's timid Malenkov, who despite unwavering loyalty to his leader discovers his name on a death list before the big guy drops dead, and is installed as acting Premier shortly after.

There are many belly laughs to be enjoyed in The Death of Stalin, but Iannucci's approach to the subject matter often approaches horror territory. While the worst the players in The Thick of It faced was public embarrassment or a dressing down from Malcolm Tucker, here one ill-timed comment can land you with a bullet in the head. It's an incredibly scary place, where characters stroll nonchalantly through grey buildings as screams and gunshots hum in the background, and people are taken from their homes by armed officers for some imagined slight. The comedy and tragedy are incredibly well-balanced, and intensifies the absurdity of political life to genuinely concerning levels. Watching the terrible events unfold as these desperate men stutter and scurry around like rats, willing to back-stab and manipulate their colleagues without pausing for breath if it means buying themselves some extra time, is irresistible. As you would expect, Iannucci's script (co-written by David Schneider and Ian Martin) is expletive-laden and sharp as a dagger, and the entire ensemble are at the top of their game. It's unlikely The Death of Stalin will ever see a release in Russia, but someone should definitely suggest Putin adds it to his IMDb watchlist.


Directed by: Armando Iannucci
Starring: Steve Buscemi, Simon Russell Beale, Jeffrey Tambor, Andrea Riseborough, Michael Palin, Paddy Considine, Jason Isaacs, Rupert Friend, Olga Kurylenko
Country: UK/France/Belgium

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,268: 'Brimstone' (2016)

Only a few famous cinematic figures can get away with using their surname only when headlining a poster or introducing a movie's title. Schwarzenegger and Stallone get away with it, as would the likes of Spielberg, Kubrick and Hitchcock if they were that way inclined. In an incredible display of confidence in his work, Dutch director Martin Koolhoven opens his latest film with the title of 'Koolhoven's Brimstone', a brave move for a filmmaker few outside of the Netherlands will have heard of. He clearly takes himself very seriously, and Brimstone just may be the most serious film of the year in the way the director soaks the film with such a biblical doom-and-gloom atmosphere that it would be difficult to watch without a chin-stroke or two.

Focusing on the life of a young mute woman named Liz, played by Dakota Fanning, in a particularly brutal Old West, Brimstone is a commentary on both the strength of woman and the sadistic nature of man. Liz holds a position of respect in the town due to her midwifing skills, but when a problematic birth leads to a decision between mother or baby, she is targeted by the residents as a murderer. Things get worse when The Reverend (Guy Pearce) walks into town. He is a stoic, imposing figure eager to reinforce God's fury to his congregation, and expects total obedience in return. Liz clearly shares a history with him, and is eternally terrified in his presence. This is the first of four stories played out of order, flashing back to Liz's time in a brothel under the orders of violent owner Frank (Paul Anderson), and forward again as Liz tries to escape the clutches of The Reverend.

At first, the non-linear narrative structure is interesting, unfolding the story carefully in order to reveal truths that change your outlook of the story. When the film finished, it felt as though it was a mere distraction from the boring central plot. Brimstone is a film about punishment, and the 149-minute running-time seems like a deliberate choice from the director to punish us in the process. It's a gruelling watch; alongside the violence and misogyny of many of its characters, there's also paedophilia, rape, incest, infanticide and hangings. It seems to wallow in the very things it is rallying against, particularly an uncomfortable scene in which The Reverend humiliates his wife (played by Carice van Houten) and forces her to wear a metal bridle in an attempt to destroy her. Things liven up slightly when Kit Harington's injured outlaw arrives on the scene, but by this point you'll be too beaten down by the relentless atmosphere for it to make much of a difference. Brimstone is bold and will likely provoke discussion, but ultimately little more than an exercise in misery.


Directed by: Martin Koolhoven
Starring: Dakota Fanning, Guy Pearce, Emilia Jones, Paul Anderson, Carice van Houten, Kit Harington
Country: Netherlands/France/Germany/Belgium/Sweden/USA/UK

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,212: 'Raw' (2016)

For her debut feature film, writer and director Julia Ducournau opted for the particularly taboo subject matter of cannibalism. It's a bold and admirable move, as if there's anything that gets audiences members up in arms and storming out of a movie theatre, it's the sight of a non-zombie human being chowing down on another of their kind. Making its way onto movie screens after a successful festival run, Raw arrives with both critical acclaim and a sense of notoriety, having apparently rendering festival-goers faint and puking in the aisles, to the point where the paramedics were called. As it usually the case with movies that have generated similar controversy, Raw really isn't that gruesome, and is in fact very careful and patient when delivering those squirm-in-your-seat moments.

The incredibly bright but socially awkward Justine (Garance Marillier) has been mollycoddled by her parents from a young age and raised a strict vegetarian. We meet her on her first day at veterinary school, following the same path as her parents before her, and that of her older sister Alexia (Ella Rumpf), who still attends. As she settles down for a quiet read at night, the dorm is invaded by older pupils who don balaclavas and proceed to trash the place, forcing Justine and her gay roommate Adrien (Rabah Nait Outfella), along with her fellow freshmen, into submissive behaviour before introducing them to a crazy rave. The rituals don't stop there, and the new starters must also spend a day drenched in animal blood and eat raw rabbit kidney. Of course, the eating of meat goes against Justine's beliefs, but she gobbles the kidney down after some guidance from her sister. This first taste of the forbidden seems to awaken something inside of the teenager, and she is soon covered in a nasty body rash and craving raw flesh.

Anyone reading the synopsis will likely assume this to be a story of a twisted college campus turning its pupils into blood-drinking monsters, but this is not the case. While the school is rather weird in its inauguration traditions, this is a far more personal story of sibling rivalry and sexual awakening. It could be labelled a feminist piece, but I believe its themes will be familiar to both sexes. Why these themes play out within a story of cannibalism, I don't quite know, but they provide the opportunity for some memorable set-pieces that reach Cronenbergian levels of body horror repulsiveness. The instinctive, almost absent-minded suck on the end of a severed finger will leave you open-mouthed, but Ducournau films the scene with such gravitas that it doesn't just disgust, but also represents the emergence of something primal and confusing within its protagonist. Marillier's youthful beauty and timid curiosity brings life to the character, and the actress puts herself through many difficult scenes that would have most actors turning their nose up at. Visceral and quite unforgettable, Raw is a very rare beast - an excellent cannibal movie.


Directed by: Julia Ducournau
Starring: Garance Marillier, Ella Rumpf, Rabah Nait Oufella, Laurent Lucas
Country: Italy/France/Belgium

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,168: 'I, Daniel Blake' (2016)

Anyone who may be under the impression that Britain's great social realist Ken Loach has lost the sense of social injustice that has defined his magnificent track record since his milestone BBC television play Cathy Come Home (1966), may be rest assured that there is a still plenty of fire in the prolific English director's belly. In what feels like an angry reaction to the Tories' austerity measures and the tabloid cries of 'Benefits Britain', I, Daniel Blake feels like a war cry to unite the skilled, working-class grafters who continue to be chewed up by a bureaucratic system that is leaving the elderly and those truly in need behind, forcing them to demean themselves for the assistance and care they truly deserve.

In Newcastle, Daniel Blake (played by stand-up comedian Dave Johns) is informed by his GP that he has a heart condition that will keep him out of work for the foreseeable future. Apprehensively, but on his doctor's recommendation, he heads to the Job Centre to sign on. He is eager to get back to work, but is confident that a lifetime of hard manual labour and steady work has surely earned him the right to seek aid in his time of need. He is denied employment and support benefits, despite his GP's note, and is systematically passed from one department to another, each of which require him to fill in a form online (he's so clueless with computers that he runs the mouse up the side of the monitor at one point) and provide evidence that he is actively seeking employment, despite his inability to work. So begins a ludicrous, Kafka-esque battle against a system seemingly eager to make the process as difficult as possible.

It's an incredibly depressing subject matter, and a topic which tends to lead to extreme reactions, depending on who you speak to and whose opinion they've recently read and decided they agree with. Yet this is certainly not a depressing film, it's actually incredibly funny. There's a real warmth to the script by Paul Laverty, and a real tenderness to the relationship between Daniel and single mother Katie (Hayley Squires); a Londoner who has been moved up North to the next available residence, itself a damning indictment of the soaring house prices in the capital and the government's eagerness to upscale 'urban' neighbourhoods. Struggling to find a job and faced with the same bureaucratic barriers as Daniel, she starves herself so her children can eat hot food, and is caught shoplifting. Perhaps you've shaken your head at the single mother on the bus struggling to control her screaming children, but Loach shows us what life might really be like for those truly in need.

In a truly Loachian touch, there's also much joy to be had in the company of working class. Daniel forms a friendship with his young neighbour China (Kema Sikazwe), a cheeky chap who is selling authentic trainers at a cut-price by shrewdly importing them directly from the warehouse (the scene in which Daniel meets his Chinese contact via Skype is one of the film's most hilarious moments). Despite the serious subject matter and occasional heart-breaking moment, there's a weird sense of optimism to the film's sense of injustice. Like a rallying cry to anyone left behind by the system, a triumphant and incredibly satisfying scene of defiance, from which the film gets its title, occurs towards the end of the film. As one would expect, Loach downplays it, ensuring that his message is properly received with a sobering climax. There's talk of Ken Loach going into retirement, and if this proves to be his final film, he's gone out with a bang, delivering from one of the finest movies of his career.


Directed by: Ken Loach
Starring: Dave Johns, Hayley Squires, Sharon Percy, Kema Sikazwe
Country: UK/France/Belgium

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,108: 'Black Book' (2006)

Before he dazzled Hollywood with his blood-soaked satires Robocop (1987) and Starship Troopers (1997) - and made us cringe with Basic Instinct (1992) and Showgirls (1995) - director Paul Verhoeven made Soldier of Orange (1977) in his native Netherlands, a film about the Dutch resistance movement during World War II which starred Rutgher Hauer. Almost thirty years later, and only six years since Hollow Man (2000) seemed to drain him of his creativity, Verhoeven returned to his homeland to make Zwartboek (Black Book), and to again highlight his country's heroic struggle during the Nazi occupation.

In 1944, Dutch Jew Rachel Stein (Carice van Houten), a singer living in Berlin before the war, hides from the Nazi regime in the war-torn Netherlands. When the farmhouse she was hiding in is destroyed by the Americans, she is forced to flee, reuniting with her family before setting off by boat to the safer south. However, the boat is ambushed by the Nazis and Rachel narrowly escapes with her life, watching her entire family murdered in the process. Lost and alone, she decides to join the resistance in The Hague, where her many talents are put to good use. A chance meeting on a train leads her to charming the socks off high-ranking Nazi officer Ludwig Muntze (Sebastian Koch), so Rachel, under the guise of Ellis de Vries, is given the task of seducing him.

World War II movies seem to be made with one of two intentions. One is to delve into the human soul and explore the horrors of battle, and the other is to simply entertain. Verhoeven's movie seems to lie somewhere in between, and the results are intriguing to say the least. Too often does the drama get interrupted by an unnecessary gun battle or explosion for the film to be taken too seriously, but, even at 145 minutes, Black Book is never in danger of dragging. It also never misses an opportunity to get van Houten in the nude, but to anyone familiar with the work of Paul Verhoeven, this will come as no surprise. While the actress now most famous as Melisandre the Red Priestess in Game of Thrones is staggeringly beautiful, her constant clothes-shedding hardly serves the plot or her character.

In fact, Black Book asks a hell of a lot of van Houten, who is forced to don a number of faces and personalities as her character digs herself deeper into the role of secret agent and uncovers betrayals and secret plots at every turn. She handles it exceptionally well, and van Houten really should have gone on to be a A-lister after this. She has a sparkling chemistry with Koch, who is also very good as the man on the side facing defeat, hoping to agree a truce with the resistance to avoid more bloodshed. It's a handsomely shot film all round, made all the more staggering that this was conceived on such a modest budget, and it's clear that Verhoeven was out to make a movie he could be proud of. While his familiar exploitative approach prevents it from being great, Black Book is never boring and is peppered with enough grey characters (Verhoeven certainly doesn't white-wash the portrayal of his fellow Dutch) to keep the twists and turns coming until the very end.


Directed by: Paul Verhoeven
Starring: Carice Van Houten, Sebastian Koch, Thom Hoffman, Halina Reijn, Waldemar Kobus
Country: Netherlands/Germany/UK/Belgium

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,071: 'High-Rise' (2015)

J.G. Ballard's 1975 novel High-Rise in one in a long line of so-called 'unfilmable' works of literature, with British producer Jeremy Thomas having tried to get a project off the ground since the 70's with Nicholas Roeg originally attached to direct. The book's darkly humorous tale of social economics and bloody violence was deemed unfit for the big screen, that is until director Ben Wheatley stepped in to take the reign with his most ambitious film yet. I've enjoyed all of Wheatley's films, especially Kill List (2011), but the sense of claustrophobia and unease that was so prevalent in his earlier works goes missing in High-Rise, which quickly descends into incoherent anarchy.

The handsome and lonely Dr. Robert Laing (Tom Hiddleston) moves into a forty-story high-rise in the outskirts of London. Created by architect Anthony Royal (Jeremy Irons), the building is an innovative experiment in ultra-modern living. Complete with its own supermarket, spa, swimming pool and school, there's even little reason to go outside other than to earn money to support the lavish lifestyle. Living in the middle of the building, Laing quickly starts a relationship with single mother Charlotte (Sienna Miller), and makes friends with unhinged documentary film-maker Richard Wilder (Luke Evans) and his heavily-pregnant wife Helen (Elisabeth Moss). Soon enough, niceties are put aside as tensions mount between the different personalities and classes, and the corridors and elevators become blood-baths as the residents tear each other apart.

Firstly, High-Rise looks utterly splendid, with the 1970's setting providing a ghastly and grimy backdrop for the chaos that ensues and cinematographer Laurie Rose framing many of his shots with a steely perfection, matching the cold neatness of the film's passive yet curious protagonist. The performances are all top-notch too, with Hiddleston doing no damage whatsoever to the tiresome rumours of him replacing Daniel Craig as the next James Bond, and Evans bristles with anger and unpredictability. The film works very well for the first forty minutes or so, establishing the hierarchy within the high-rise and introducing a repulsive gallery of greasy-haired weirdos (Reece Shearsmith and Tony Way) and pampered toffs (James Purefoy and Keeley Hawes).

While at first Laing plays the role of the audience drinking in this madness, he almost becomes a supporting player from the middle-act, as Wheatley quickly loses focus and lets the chaos reign. There are too many characters squabbling over God-knows-what, and Wheatley struggles with translating the source material to establish a clear theme or message amidst all the barbarity on show. It shares much in common with 2013's Snowpiercer, and while Joon-ho Bong's actioner was heavily flawed, it managed to land it satirical punches far more convincingly. High-Rise seems too over-eager to bask in the violence, and gets so caught up in it that it forgets that it's also got a story to tell and characters deserving of more screen-time. I can certainly appreciate the ambition, but perhaps Wheatley wasn't ready to tell a story of such complexity.


Directed by: Ben Wheatley
Starring: Tom Hiddleston, Jeremy Irons, Sienna Miller, Luke Evans, Elisabeth Moss, James Purefoy, Keeley Hawes, Peter Ferdinando, Reece Shearsmith
Country: UK/Belgium

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,021: 'Burma VJ: Reporting from a Closed Country' (2008)

In 1962, the Burmese government was overthrown in a coup by the socialist military, who maintained control of the country until 2011. During this time, Burma deteriorated into poverty, while any protests or statements made against the ruling government were quickly crushed through intimidation, torture, outlandishly long jail sentences and executions. In 1988, a series of marches, rallies and protests now known as the 8888 Uprising were brought to a bloody end as the military killed 3,000 civilians in the streets.

With the media controlled by the state and a ban on any footage leaving the country, the Democratic Voice of Burma (DVB) has trained its journalists to work as guerrilla cameraman, working in the shadows to capture any acts of oppression or revolution. They work as a network but rarely meet, communicating using mobile phones and internet chatrooms, and frequently putting themselves at great personal risk. Being captured could mean death, with our narrator, known as 'Joshua', having his footage wiped early on by secret police and being forced into exile. Clever reconstructions of Joshua receiving updates on a new uprising now known as the Saffron Revolution, led by the Buddhist monks, forms a tense narrative.

The footage captured by the DVB is astonishing, with the action taking place right before your eyes. It is also, at times, incredibly intimate. Early on, the monks distrust the DVB, suspecting they are secret police. When the cameramen are attacked by plain-clothes military, the monks protect them and trust is immediately solidified. You are instantly swept up by the protesters elation and feel their incredible sense of hope, so it's absolutely shattering to see it all torn away. Director Anders Ostergaard weaves the footage together expertly, and the film is wholly deserving of its Best Documentary nomination at the Academy Awards in 2010 (and probably deserved to win). It's as close as you could get to being on the streets of a country under a crushing regime, and the results are frustrating and terrifying.


Directed by: Anders Østergaard
Country: Denmark/Sweden/Norway/UK/USA/Germany/Netherlands/Israel/Spain/Belgium/Canada

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #904: 'Two Days, One Night' (2014)

Two time Palme d'Or winners and brothers Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne have had an almost overwhelming critical success with their back catalogue, scooping up enough awards to fill their living room and receiving enough nominations to make them major players in European cinema. Their films tend to focus on the everyday struggles of existence, telling low-key stories against the backdrop of their native Belgium, making some kind of sociological or political commentary at the same time. Yet despite their success, the Dardenne's have remained in the shadows without the seemingly inevitable emigration to Hollywood. Although they have finally bagged an A-lister in Marion Cotillard, Two Days, One Night is much of the same, a simple yet heart-wrenching tale that paints a picture of life in our economically unbalanced times.

Young mother Sandra (Cotillard) is preparing to re-enter the workplace after battling with depression following an unspoken trauma, when she receives a phone call from her boss who informs her that her workmates have voted to receive their bonus, rather than Sandra being allowed to keep her job. Along with a friend, Sandra convinces her boss to have another vote when she suspects that her colleague may have been influenced, and along with her devoted husband Manu (Fabrizio Rongione), must spend the weekend trying to convince her sixteen co-workers that they should forgo their promised bonus so she can go on supporting her family.

This is undoubtedly Cotillard's film. Despite her superstar status and unworldly beauty, her portrayal of a depressive is entirely convincing. Constantly popping pills, she begins the film in bed, lacking the motivation to even answer her phone. Her most human moment comes in the scene where she turns up the car radio and sings along, much to Manu's surprise and delight as he savours this brief moment of elation. It's a scene that could have seemed like something from a Hollywood rom-com, but thanks to Cotillard's performance and the Dardennes unfussy direction, it manages to deliver an emotional wallop. As Sandra drags herself from one worker to the next, the film becomes slightly repetitive, but achieves feelings of discomfort and sadness in the viewer as we witness Sandra's dignity slipping away. Slightly depressing but oddly optimistic, Two Days, One Night packs an emotional punch and will leave you questioning how Cotillard didn't run away with the Oscar.


Directed by: Jean-Pierre Dardenne, Luc Dardenne
Starring; Marion Cotillard, Fabrizio Rongione, Catherine Salée, Batiste Sornin
Country: Belgium/France/Italy

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #326: 'Johnny Mad Dog' (2008)

In an unknown African country, Johnny Mad Dog (Christophe Minie), possibly 14-15 years old, leads a group of young child militia. After the successful infiltration of a TV station, who they believe support the President, they march on to try and capture the capital city. They rape, murder and destroy their way through the city, with scant regard for the cause they're fighting for or the cities inhabitants. Meanwhile, Laokole (Daisy Victoria Vandy), a young girl around Johnny's age, tries to survive with her younger brother and her wounded, legless father.

Shot with a documentary-like realism, director Jean-Stephane Sauvaire employed an unknown cast, many of which are actual former child soldiers. We are shown in detail how they are taken from their families and have hatred drilled into them by their colonel, who spouts his motto "you don't want to die, don't be born." It's a savage story set in a savage landscape, and, in the central storyline, we are not allowed the comfort of having any sympathetic characters. There are moments of black comedy - at the beginning we see one of the soldiers loot a victims house and put on a wedding dress, which he wears for the majority of the film, and No Good Advice (Dagbeth Tweh) steals a pig from a victim and stubbornly struggles to carry it on his shoulders. They are clever devices that make the film all the more terrifying and almost unbelievable.

The cast are superb to the point where I often forgot I was watching a film, and instead was watching a beautifully filmed documentary. As Johnny, Minie is dead-eyed and stoic, with only fleeting glimpses of a heart beating beneath his cold exterior. He is simply doing what he has been brought up believing, that what he and his crew are doing is revolutionary. They have scant regard for their own lives, being convinced from a young age that bullets won't hurt them, and their bodies jacked-up with alcohol and cocaine. As the credits roll, the sound of Billie Holiday's Strange Fruit seems a strange and ill-fitting choice, but it does not stop Johnny Mad Dog from being a powerful expose of a world that is almost alien to the West.


Directed by: Jean-Stéphane Sauvaire
Starring: Christophe Mini, Daisy Victoria Vandy, Dagbeth Tweh
Country: France/Belgium/Liberia

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #319: 'The Devil's Double' (2011)

Latif Yahia (Dominic Cooper) is a patriotic Iraqi soldier who finds himself brought in by Uday Hussein (also Cooper), a former classmate and son of Saddam to whom he bears an uncanny resemblance. Uday wants him to become his body double to protect him from potentially dangerous situations, and make appearances while Uday indulges in women, drink and drugs. Latif refuses, only to be tortured and beaten until he agrees. After undergoing some minor plastic surgery and given some fake teeth, Latif shadows Uday and realises he is an absolute psychopath, raping and murdering women as well as torturing anyone who challenges or opposes him. Uday's mistress Sarrab (Ludivine Sagnier), tired of Uday's unpredictable nature and wild behaviour, shows interest in Latif, and the two start a dangerous affair.

The story of Latif Yahia has been dubbed dubious by various investigative journalists due to inconsistencies in his stories and claims by associates of Uday Hussein's that he never used body doubles. That aside, it makes for a quite fascinating story, if a not wholly believable one. Instead of fashioning a serious film about one of the key figures in the troubled and violent recent history of Iraq, director Lee Tamahori (whose recent films include the shitty Bond film Die Another Day (2002) and Nicolas Cage vehicle Next (2007)) has made a gangster film. It plays out like Scarface in Baghdad, and is full of violence, drugs and women, and all but ignores the political and social aspects. It's the main problem with the film, as although this has the potential to be a very good film, the execution is that seen a thousand times before in the gangster genre. In the hands of someone like David Fincher or Michael Mann, this could have been something much more.

However, the film has a trump card in the form of lead Dominic Cooper, who juggles dual roles with apparent ease. I've never been his biggest fan (he's hardly been stretched in his career), but he shows here that he has leading man qualities. Although his portrayal of Uday is wildly over-the-top to the point of a cartoon character sometimes, it's clearly as the director intended, and he switches from the brooding Latif to the psychopathic Uday effortlessly. So whether you believe the story or not (I don't), it makes for an entertaining, if deeply flawed, film, and Uday Hussein proves a terrifying madman, especially given that he was very real (before US forces killed him in 2003).


Directed by: Lee Tamahori
Starring: Dominic Cooper, Ludivine Sagnier, Raad Rawi
Country: Belgium/Netherlands

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #317: 'The Artist' (2011)

George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) is one of the biggest stars in Hollywoodland. His latest picture looks set to be a commercial success after he charms the audience after a screening with his on and off-screen sidekick dog Jack. Afterwards, as the press surge around him, a screaming fan, Peppy Miller (Berenice Bejo) drops her purse and finds herself alongside George, who grabs her and smiles for the camera. She causes a sensation in the press and lands a small dancing role in George's next film. But with the emergence of the talkies looming, George finds his role as Hollywoodland's favourite star threatened, and Peppy slowly rises and becomes a star in her own right. Unable to find work as a talking film star, George slides into infamy, but finds his path repeatedly crossing with Peppy's.

The emergence of the 'talkies' is one the biggest events in cinema history. Cinema giants found themselves pushed out of the business if they didn't have the right voice, and had to make way for a new set of stars. Very few actors survived the transformation, with the likes of Charlie Chaplin and Greta Garbo managing to scrape through. This has been depicted on screen before, most notably in two very different masterpieces - Billy Wilder's homage-filled noir Sunset Boulevard (1950), and Stanley Donen's iconic musical Singin' in the Rain (1952). While the latter depicted an ageing former silent star verging on madness, and the latter a production company making the difficult transition from silent movies to musicals, what The Artist has going for it is that it's shot and acted exactly like a silent movie, and does so with such dedication and love that it transports you back to the time where you feel as if you're witnessing this change first hand.

It would be easy to make a mockery of silent movies. As many greats as the era produced, they mainly consist of over-the-top acting, unrealistic sets and overly romantic attitudes (I said mainly, I'm not referring to the works of Murnau, Lang and Dreyer, but mainly the work that came out of Hollywood). But they were simple, passionate and often theatrical, and the works of Chaplin, Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton are still some of the greatest comedies ever made. Director Michel Hazanavicius is clearly in love with them, and even shot the film in the 1.33:1 aspect ratio, which allows the actors to dominate the screen. It is also littered with sly winks to the era and to the likes of Mary Pickford, who was possibly the biggest actress of the era, and Douglas Fairbanks (a scene from his The Mark of Zorro (1920) is shown as a Valentin movie, with Valentin incorporated into the close-up shots). 

The casting is a stroke of genius. Dujardin has such a perfect cinematic face that it is as if he was made for silent cinema. He simply doesn't need to speak, he has the ability to generate an emotion with an eyebrow movement, and has possibly the greatest screen moustache for many a year. If the Academy fails to recognise his performance here, I'll eat my own face, and I hope he goes on to bigger and better things. Bejo is not nearly as impressive, but charms her way through the film and is perfectly believable in her role. She has real chemistry with Dujardin, and the scene in which she has a small role dancing with Valentin, who keeps fluffing his actions because he is enamoured by Peppy, is truly beautiful. It is one of the most genuine and achingly romantic scenes I've seen in the cinema.

It is too early to call it a masterpiece, but it is truly a stunning film and the hype is well justified. But I did leave wondering if I had just witnessed the death of cinema. Are we so devoid of ideas that we have reverted back to where we started? Well, no, but it did make me think. Cinema has come full circle, and I am now concerned that there is nothing else left to explore. With the emergence of 3-D, old classics such as Star Wars (1977) and Jurassic Park (1993) are being re-released into cinemas. Do we now have to look back for inspiration, rather than forward into the unknown? Perhaps people have wondered this in the past, only to then witness cinematic landmarks that have pushed the medium forward. I'm most likely, and hopefully, wrong, but for now I'll enjoy The Artist for what it is - a love letter to a time in cinema often neglected by the masses - and a brilliant one at that.

Directed by: Michel Hazanavicius

Starring: Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Bejo, John Goodman, James Cromwell, Penelope Ann Miller

Country: France/Belgium

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #225: 'Lucker the Necrophagous' (1986)

John Lucker (Nick Van Suyt) is a notorious serial killer who awakens from his long coma. He escapes from the hospital, but not without taking a few victims with him. His notoriety comes from the fact that he not only kills his victims in various horrific ways, he likes to (surprise, surprise, given the film's title) shag their corpses. We find out through a few flashbacks that he is on the hunt for a woman who escaped his clutches. But after picking up a prostitute in a bar, he goes back to her apartment building, in which, coincidentally, is empty apart from one couple ("no-one can hear a thing"). We know this as she explains it in detail to Lucker, something that we all would do to a strange man we have just met and are taking back to our home.

Well, where to start? I have my wonderful brother to thank for this monstrosity of 'film-making', as after he read a DVD review of it, claimed it sounded 'right up my street'. Perhaps I need to change people's outlook of me, as it is concerning that a family member would consider a film where a greasy Belgian leaves a corpse for a month to rot, smears his hands over her slimy body and then hungrily licks his hands, to be something I would like. I'd never actually vomited bile into my mouth before whilst watching a film, and although I welcome a film that can make me feel queasy and uneasy, I can only describe Lucker the Necrophagous as the cinematic equivalent of Two Girls One Cup.

This is genuinely the worst film I have ever seen. And I've seen all three August Underground (2001-2007) films. Every second, every frame, every soundbite of it's slender 70 minute running time drained a little bit more life out of me. This film life-raped me. And while I'm no prude when it comes to nudity, the sight of a middle-aged, doughy skinned, double-chinned man's flabby arse is not something I want to see repeatedly, especially when it is wobbling on top of a corpse. Shock horror, this would be the last feature both director Johan Vandewoestijne would direct, and 'star' Van Suyt would appear. Lucker is the finest example as to why when something is labelled as 'notorious', it doesn't mean I should watch it. It does for notorious films what Gary Glitter does for notorious musicians. Avoid at all costs, and my dear brother, next time you want to recommend something, please watch it yourself first. Damn you!


Directed by: Johan Vandewoestijne
Starring: Nick Van Suyt, Helga Vandevelde, Let Jotts
Country: Belgium

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #161: 'A Town Called Panic' (2009)

In a strange rural town, three plastic toys, Cowboy, Indian and Horse, share a house. Cowboy and Indian awake one morning to realise they have forgotten Horse's birthday. They decide to build him a barbecue, and order the bricks to build it on the internet. The delivery goes wrong, and they accidentally order about 5 million bricks, which they hide from Horse on top of their house. The weight of the bricks eventually sink the house into the ground, and they are forced to rebuild. But a gang of strange creatures who live underwater keep stealing the walls they build, so the trio embark on an adventure to take back their bricks, and get Horse to his piano lessons.

Sound mad? Well it is. My description of the plot does not do the insanity and the randomness of this film justice. If there is one word to describe the film, it would be manic. When the credits rolled, I've never been so physically and mentally exhausted after watching a film since the mind-raping that was Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989 - thank you for that, Marc). Made from the same people who did the fantastic Cravendale milk adverts, A Town Called Panic feels like the kind of the thing that goes through your mind when playing with your toys as a kid. It drifts from one random scene to the next.

I think if I ever watched Toy Story (1995) while cained on acid, I think my mind would probably filter it through as this. It defies logic and avoids anything remotely resembling moral lessons, which makes the whole thing infinitely more fun. It's refreshing knowing that this is nothing more than childish playfulness mixed with some genuinely hilarious lines and set-pieces. How does putting a broken TV on his head allow Cowboy to breathe underwater? How do you move 5 million bricks on top of a roof in a few minutes? How does a horse type? Who gives a shit? The creators are having far too much fun to allow meaningless things like logic to get in the way.

This is truly a one in a million film, made from creative minds of such fierce individualism, with some truly beautiful animation. My favourite moment would have to be the character of Steven (voiced by Man Bites Dog's (1992) serial killer Benoit Poelvoorde) who is served a giant slice of bread covered in chocolate spread and a mug of coffee that's bigger than him. He storms into the room, ever shouting, to bounce along the table on his head munching the bread at hyper-speed, and walk straight through the coffee mug shouting "great coffee!" as he leaves. Absolute genius.


Directed by: Stéphane Aubier, Vincent Patar
Voices: Stéphane Aubier, Vincent Patar, Bruce Ellison, Benoît Poelvoorde
Country: Belgium/Luxembourg/France

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie