Review #1,469: 'How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World' (2019)

Loosely based on the series of books by Cressida Cowell, the How to Train Your Dragon series has grown to become the jewel in the somewhat small and dusty crown of Dreamworks Animation. With Pixar killing it near enough year in, year out, the adventures of reluctant Viking leader Hiccup (Jay Baruchel) and his trusted Night Fury pal are the closest thing that Dreamworks have ever come to the quality and visual splendour of its most fearsome rivals. If you've kept up with the series since its debut in 2010, you'll have watched Hiccup grow out of his father's shadow into a battle-scarred warrior and forward-thinking frontiersman, who brought a close to his tribe's never-ending war with the dragons to discover the fire-breathing beasts actually make for useful and loving friends. The second instalment veered into incredibly dark territory, signalling a maturing tone that matched the protagonist's transformation from nervous kid to an innovator destined to change the lives of his people forever.

The third and presumably final entry into the series, The Hidden World, doesn't darken the tone further - it is still a kids' film after all - but you get the sense from very early on that we are heading inevitably towards an emotional parting of ways. Hiccup and his friends continue their quest to rescue captive dragons and bring them back to the village of Berk to live in harmony with humans. The problem is that they've become so good at their search-and-rescue missions that their home is now overcrowded with the lumbering beasts. Hiccup believes their only hope lies in 'the hidden world, a mysterious and possibly make-believe haven at the edge of the world spoken of by his late father Stoick (Gerard Butler). But cracks start to appear in the young chieftan's plans when his dragon and best friend Toothless happens across a Light Fury, the female of his species. Wild and distrusting of humans, the female bolts from Toothless' advances any time Hiccup shows his face to help, and it becomes clear that if he is ever to see his best bud happy, he must also let his dragon run free.

As ever, there's a dragon-hating antagonist to jeopardise Hiccup's plans in the form of renowned hunter Grimmel the Grisly (F. Murray Abraham), whose own mind-controlled dragons have the ability to vomit acid and melt pretty much anything in their wake. He certainly looks and sounds cool, but Grimmel shares much of the same motivation as the bad guys that come before him, and the character really symbolises the film's overall reluctance to dig that little bit deeper. For me, How to Train Your Dragon 2 really stepped up the game for this franchise, but it feels like returning director Dean DeBlois is happy to ease off the accelerator and ride this trilogy-closer out. If this were practically any other series, The Hidden World would be a delightful surprise, offering up great moments like the opening night-time raid and the sight of Toothless clumsily attempting win over his potential mate, the latter proving to be one of the most charming and heart-warming scenes of the entire trilogy. But with the knowledge of how great this could have been, The Hidden World is a disappointment, fizzling out with an ending that undoubtedly satisfies, but when compared to the emotional wallop of, say, Toy Story 3, plays it rather safe.


Directed by: Dean DeBlois
Voices: Jay Baruchel, America Ferrera, F. Murray Abraham, Cate Blanchett, Gerard Butler, Craig Ferguson, Jonah Hill, Christopher Mintz-Plasse
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #855: 'The Bonfire of the Vanities' (1990)

Tom Wolfe's sprawling novel about the aftershocks of a hit-and-run in 1980's New York set out to capture the corruption and self-promotion that seemed to dominate the decade, with every power player in the city, and every hanger-on trying to achieve personal triumph, latching on to the media and cultural frenzy to benefit their own personal agenda. It's a remarkable novel; bleakly hilarious but meticulously detailed. A movie adaptation was always going to be dangerous territory, and Brian De Palma's resulting film, that flopped both critically and commercially, is a confused mess. The complete failure of the film may be somewhat cruel and not wholly deserved, but De Palma goes for all-out comedy, failing to grasp Wolfe's subtle satire completely.

Tom Hanks plays self-styled 'master of the universe' Sherman McCoy, a Wall Street broker who enjoys every material comfort that life can offer, living in his huge apartment with his ditsy wife Judy (Kim Cattrall). During an eventful night with his mistress Maria Ruskin (Melanie Griffith), they take a wrong turn while heading back to her apartment and end up in South Bronx. Sherman gets out of the car to clear the road when he is approach by two black youths, and a misunderstanding leads to Ruskin accidentally running one of them over. They flee the scene, but once the story of a rich white man almost killing a poor black kid breaks, the likes of Reverend Bacon (John Hancock), a Harlem religious and political leader, Jewish district attorney Abe Weiss (F. Murray Abraham) and hard-drinking journalist Peter Fallow (Bruce Willis) rear their heads to twist the ongoing shit-storm to their own benefit.

Despite some nice tracking shots and sets that really do capture the tacky glamour of the 80's, the movie's biggest downfall is the casting. The two leads, Hanks and Willis, are woefully miscast. McCoy is a loathsome character, a WASP-ish high-roller in an increasingly capitalist country, but Hanks is one of the most likeable actors around. He looks visibly uncomfortable in a thinly-written role, and only takes control of his character in a scene in which he clears his apartment by unloading a shotgun played mainly for laughs, which at this stage of his career was Hanks's shtick. Fallow in the novel is a manipulative con-man, twisting the unravelling story through his newspaper in order to keep his job and make a nice paycheck along the way. But De Palma only seems to have picked up on his heavy drinking, meaning that Willis swings a bottle around and narrates the story, playing the role of spoon-feeder without playing an active role in story or convincing as someone who could get to his position.

But then again, De Palma's movie doesn't exist in the real world. Arguably, the ensemble of characters in Wolfe's novel were caricatures, but they were well-rounded characters, and being inside their heads meant that we could understand their motives, something the movie entirely ignores. So we get the likes of Bacon, Weiss, lawyer Tom Killian (Kevin Dunn) and Assistant District Attorney Kramer (Saul Rubinek), all key players in the novel, reduced to scowling or bumbling onlookers, while McCoy squirms for our amusement and Fallow tells us what we're supposed to be thinking. Occasionally its an all-out pantomime, which would be forgiveable it was funny or insightful. Yet when Wolfe calls for pantomime at the climax, the movie delivers a ridiculous speech spoken by Judge White (Morgan Freeman), informing us that decency is what your grandmother taught you.


Directed by: Brian De Palma
Starring: Tom Hanks, Bruce Willis, Melanie Griffith, Kim Cattrall, Saul Rubinek, Morgan Freeman, John Hancock, F. Murray Abraham
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #763: 'The Grand Budapest Hotel' (2014)

Those who turn their nose up at the thought of another fussily-filmed, wildly colourful journey into the world and mind of Wes Anderson, will no doubt detest his latest, and arguably most perfect work, The Grand Budapest Hotel. His work is criticised by his haters for being too meticulously structured, his camera limited to sideways and occasionally upwards movements, festooned with bold colours, always leading to that dreaded, overused word - 'quirky'. Yet this is a world a sly wit, of characters so ridiculous and charming that you could wish they would replace the monotonous bores that litter our reality, and one in which Bill Murray is omnipresent.

In the pink, mountainous haven of the picturesque, fictitious European country of Zubrowka, sits the Grand Budapest Hotel. In it's heyday, the hotel was meticulously managed by Monsieur Gustave H. (Ralph Fiennes), a charismatic, perfume-wearing horndog, who knew all about what his guests wanted before they even knew they wanted it. On the day that one of his elderly conquests, Madame D. (Tilda Swinton), leaves the hotel, he meets new lobby boy Zero Moustafa (Tony Revolori), and immediately begins to groom him as his possible successor. When he hears of Madame D's death, Gustave and Zero travel to her mansion to hear the reading of her will.

She leaves Gustave a piece of priceless art, something heavily resented by Madame's two evil, leather-jacketed sons, Dmitri (Adrien Brody) and Jopling (Willem Dafoe), who don't wish to see this lecherous lothario receive a dime. Sensing trouble, Gustave and Zero steal the painting, replace it with some kind of grotesque lesbian erotica, and flee. This sets in motion a series of farcical events involving a prison escape, an apologetic police officer named Henckels (Edward Norton), a missing butler, and the rise of fascism. All of this is told by an ageing Zero (F. Murray Abraham) to a curious writer credited only as 'The Author' (Jude Law).

What it all about, you ask? Possibly nothing. This could all be just a splurge of the director's imagination, or a hark back to the grand eccentrics of the olden days. It could be about the state of Europe between the two World Wars, with the Grand Budapest Hotel a multi-national asylum for all of the continent's misfits. But the setting simply seems too fitting for it's comedic approach for it to be labelled with any kind of 'war' or 'period' label, with bursts of slapstick and comedy-of-manners worthy of Lubitsch, punctured by ridiculous exclamations from it's hyperactive concierge. When he hears about an enemy's dastardly plan, he responds "the fuckers!".

So, I don't quite know what it's all about. What I do know is that I loved every second of watching it's ludicrous story play out, anchored by an outstanding performance by Fiennes. He may seem an odd choice for an Anderson film, whose films are usually littered with the likes of Jason Schwartzman, Owen Wilson, and Bill Murray (all of whom appear here), but his Gustave is Anderson's greatest creation, brought fearlessly and completely to life by Fiennes. He's certainly no spring chicken, but he's a strange delight to spend 100 minutes with. And that's really how I felt about the entire experience, it was certainly strange, but utterly delightful.


Directed by: Wes Anderson
Starring: Ralph Fiennes, Tony Revolori, F. Murray Abraham, Adrien Brody, Willem Dafoe, Edward Norton, Saoirse Ronan, Jude Law, Jeff Goldblum, Mathieu Amalric, Harvey Keitel
Country: USA/Germany

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #335: 'Last Action Hero' (1993)

When young Danny Madigan (Austin O'Brien) is given a magic movie ticket by friendly cinema owner Nick (Robert Prosky) at an advance screening of new action movie Jack Slater IV, he is magically transported into the movie and into the car of supercop Jack Slater (Arnold Schwarzenegger). Danny starts to inform Slater about who the bad guys are after seeing them on screen, and the two are paired up as a mismatched investigative duo by Slater's screaming boss. Glass-eyed bad guy Mr. Benedict (Charles Dance) manages to get his hands on the magic ticket, and escapes into the real world, where he finds things are much easier for the bad guys. Slater must leave his action movie cliche of a world where he is nigh on invincible behind, and enter one where things are slightly more difficult.

Last Action Hero had one of the most expensive and turbulent page-to-screen stories in recent cinema history. Originally written as a self-mocking action movie that embraced the cliches of the genre, that was also a proper action movie in its own right. After an unexpected bidding war, the young scribes Zak Penn and Adam Leff were shocked to find that Arnold Schwarzenegger had taken a personal interest in it (the original hero name was Arno Slater). This was to be the turning point. Arnie saw the potential for a franchise as a kid's film and immediately wanted to tone down the violence, so Penn and Leff were fired, and genre legend Shane Black was hired to spruce up the script. Things changed yet again when director John McTiernan was brought in, and, due to the success of his previous films, was given full control.

A few script re-writes, firings, and storm-outs later, the film was shot and ready to hit the market. A toy franchise and a ridiculously expensive and calamitous advertising campaign (they paid half a million dollars to have the film's name on a NASA rocket, only to have the launched delayed till long after the film's release) were put into motion, and the film's release date was announced for the week after Jurassic Park's. Last Action Hero had disastrous test screenings, but the release date was not changed, and naturally, Jurassic Park stormed the box-office and merchandising range, and Last Action Hero was revealed to be an over-ambitious, confused dud of a movie. However, the legend is rather cruel on Schwarzenegger's biggest flop, as although it is a gigantic mess, it has plenty of interesting ideas than are unfortunately spewed out onto the film in ungraceful belches.

The biggest problem is that it doesn't know what kind of film it is. At its heart, its a kid's film, complete with annoying mop-haired child, a kindly old man, magic tickets and, um, a cartoon cat. Yet on its surface, its a rather uninspired action film that is actually rather violent and, once in the real world, is quite grim. The film never seems to know whether it wants to homage, spoof or simply in-joke. The movie world it creates is itself confused - while it has some funny touches such as the police line pairing together various mismatched partners - it also has women walking around in sexy, futuristic costumes, and the aforementioned cartoon cat called Whiskers (voiced by Danny DeVito). Seriously, whose idea was that? I've never seen a cartoon cat in a live-action action movie!

However, the sheer mess that is the complete film does prove Last Action Hero to be a curious little oddity. There have been much finer examples of action-movie send-ups, namely in Shane Black's own excellent Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005), so perhaps the producers weren't ready back in 1993 to take on such an ambitious project. Arnie is pleasantly game for sending himself up, and Charles Dance chews the screen with his gloriously hammy British bad guy. But Last Action Hero will ultimately always be a reminder of how the Hollywood system to suck up an interesting maverick project, fuck it over a few times, and bundle it over the finishing line with such unbelievable inefficiency. I did love it as a kid, however.


Directed by: John McTiernan
Starring: Arnold Schwarzenegger, Austin O'Brien, Charles Dance, Robert Prosky, F. Murray Abraham, Anthony Quinn
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie