Review #1,474: 'Amour' (2012)

Austrian filmmaker Michael Haneke has been provoking - often outright antagonising - his audiences for decades, from the home invasion horror of Funny Games, to the ugly suburban murder of Benny's Video, to the bleak, post-apocalyptic vision of the future from Time of the Wolf. His 2012 effort, Amour, winner of the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival, is his most compassionate film to date, although Haneke's compassion still feels like a sledgehammer to the chest and a knife to the heart. The title, which translates as 'love' from French, is about precisely that, but this is not the syrupy, sentimental love we're used to from cinema, but the kind experienced by any couples lucky enough to have enjoyed a long-lasting relationship into old age.

The couple are retired music teachers Georges (Jean-Louis Trintignant) and Anne (Emmanuelle Riva), who both enjoy a comfortable bourgeois lifestyle in Paris. We are introduced to this grey-haired pair as they attend the concert of Alexandre (Alexandre Tharaud), one of Anne's former star pupils, and their subsequent car journey home. This is the only glimpse we are allowed of their everyday life, as once they arrive home to discover that someone has attempted to break in, we never leave the building again. The next morning, as they sit down to breakfast, Anne becomes unresponsive, gazing blankly into space as Georges tries to snap her out of it. Before the old man can get help, she is back to normal, completely unaware of this momentary void. Anne has suffered a stroke, and after an operation on her blocked carotid artery goes wrong, she is left wheelchair-bound and paralysed down one side.

In anybody else's hands, this could be a story of overcoming hopelessness and helplessness, and of a couple undeterred in the face of looming death. But Haneke isn't interesting in sentiment, and opts instead to observe the loving couple as Anne deteriorates further, pleading for an end to the pain and humiliation after a second stroke, while Georges cares for her as best as he can. Anne makes her husband promise never to take her back to the hospital, so their apartment becomes a tomb where any visitor is an unwelcome intrusion. Their daughter Eva (Isabelle Huppert) makes the occasional visit from London, where she lives with her British husband Geoff (William Shimell), to offer help, but she doesn't understand the emptiness of her offer. She isn't there for the diaper changes, the periods when Anne can do nothing but moan in pain, and Georges' struggle to move her whenever she needs to visit the bathroom.

It's tough, gruelling stuff, but it's heartbreaking in a way that anybody in a loving relationship can relate to. It's something we simultaneously hope to reach and ultimately dread, and there's a real unflinching honesty in the way Georges and Anne react to their new predicament. The idea that old age eventually catches up to everybody is hammered home by the casting of Trintignant and Riva, who have naturally grown into their 80s and are barely recognisable from their glamorous 60's heyday. However, Amour is not an exercise in misery. Haneke handles these characters with incredible delicacy, hinting at an unshakeable bond that, despite a few wobbles down the years, has only strengthened with time and has long since evolved into something greater than the word love can truly express. Amour certainly puts you through the ringer, but you'll likely emerge with a greater appreciation for your loved one.


Directed by: Michael Haneke
Starring: Jean-Louis Trintignant, Emmanuelle Riva, Isabelle Huppert, Alexandre Tharaud, William Shimell
Country: Austria/France/Germany

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,437: 'The House That Jack Built' (2018)

Seven years ago, Danish provocateur Lars von Trier found himself banned from the Cannes Film Festival after making a rather ill-timed joke about sympathising with Hitler during a press conference for Melancholia. For a festival that seems to inspire walk-outs and boos from audiences who have apparently never seen a film before, it was never going to be too long until von Trier wriggled his way back in. After all, for a director famous for clitoris-removal and the mocking of disabled people, the lure of free advertising from appalled cinema-goers would surely be too strong to resist. For his return, von Trier brought The House That Jack Built, a two and half hour serial killer movie that often feels like a stand-in for the director's self-satisfied smirk. Not only does the film feature animal cruelty, infanticide and open mocking of the #MeToo movement, but the anti-hero at its centre talks frequently at length about his real obsession. You guessed it: the Third Reich. This is a giant middle-finger to the Cannes board.

Jack (Matt Dillon) is a serial killer who, by the end, boasts more than 60 victims. He mainly kills women, but he also kills men and children if the subject is just right for his unique brand of 'art'. At the start of the film, he discusses his life and the nature of evil with an unseen man, played by Bruno Ganz, who we don't see until the very end. He defends his grisly past-times as artistic expression, claiming that everyone who died at his hands will be forever immortalised in his work. His story is recounted as a series of incidents, the first of which involves Uma Thurman as an impossibly stupid victim stranded by the road-side. Convincing Jack to give her a ride to a nearby garage that can fix her car jack, she almost talks the stranger into killing her, even handing him the murder weapon. When the brutal, sudden murder occurs, we almost feel a sense of relief. You can imagine von Trier stroking his chin and grinning at the thought of us feeling like she deserved it. Over the course of a decade, Jack ponders his favourite kills, taking the occasional detour to discuss architecture, literature and the work of Glenn Gould, and to repeatedly build and knock down his dream house.

For a film that understandably caused outrage at its premiere, The House That Jack Built isn't gory and full of spatter, but that isn't to say the film isn't frequently repugnant. An old lady is strangled to death for comic effect, a duckling has its leg snipped off, and worst of all, a child's corpse is contorted with wires and preserved in Jack's walk-in freezer, positioned in the background of many scenes just in case we happen to forget. Such blatant button-pushing would be forgivable, of even admirable, had this trudging vanity project been remotely convincing. Instead, its two and a half hours that feels two and a half hours, with a miscast Dillon delivering monologues on the beauty of genocide and the evolution of architecture while von Trier plans his next trick to make you feel uncomfortable. The film's best performance is delivered by Riley Keough as a young woman Jack cruelly names Simple. Jack toys with her low self-esteem before dispatching her in a horrendous manner, but there's real humanity lurking in this scene, and a real sense of dread conjured up by von Trier. The whole thing is almost saved by a climactic journey through a Hell seemingly inspired by the covers of death metal albums, which manages to be both truly eerie and cartoonishly comical. But then you remember what you had to get through to get there, and wonder how to get your 150 minutes back.


Directed by: Lars von Trier
Starring: Matt Dillon, Bruno Ganz, Uma Thurman, Siobhan Fallon Hogan, Sofie Gråbøl, Riley Keough, Jeremy Davies
Country: Denmark/France/Germany/Sweden

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,432: 'The Grinch' (2000)

Although his popularity is unrivalled in the US, children's author and illustrator Dr. Seuss is considerably less popular in the UK, where instead Roald Dahl occupies this role as creator of wonderful stories to inspire and influence the imaginations of children across the country. However, this hasn't prevented Ron Howard's The Grinch, or How the Grinch Stole Christmas, from becoming a beloved Christmas movie and establishing itself as a regular feature across the channels over the holidays. Having read the joyful story by Dr. Seuss, which manages to pack in a welcome message about the true importance of Christmas alongside The Grinch's journey from the feared monster at the top of the mountain to humbled hero with a heart two sizes bigger, I fail to understand how anybody can find any magic in this overwrought, ugly and sickly vehicle for Jim Carrey's camera-mugging shtick.

The population of Whoville are eagerly awaiting the arrival of Christmas, frantically hoarding presents and preparing for the yearly 'Holiday Cheermeister' overlooked by the town's narcissistic mayor Augustus Maywho (Jeffrey Tambor). At the top of the mountain casting a shadow over Whoville is the Grinch (Carrey), a joyless and selfish green creature who loathes the Whos and their constant celebrations. Pushed to breaking point by the eternal singing blowing up the mountainside, the Grinch heads into town dressed as Santa to pray a prank on the townsfolk. Precocious 6 year-old Cindy Lou Who (Taylor Momsen) takes pity on the creature and tries talking to him, only to be shoved into a postal machine for her efforts. He ends up reluctantly saving her life however, so Cindy Lou starts to explore his past, learning that he was once an ugly child who ran away after being bullied. She wants to teach him about the true meaning of Christmas and show her fellow Whos that they have nothing to fear by nominating him as the Cheermeister, but the Grinch, armed with a sleigh, his trusted dog Max and a giant vacuum, heads into town with other ideas.

The immediate problem faced by screenwriters Jeffrey Price and Peter S. Seaman when adapting such a short tale is how to fill in the blanks with enough story and character development to stretch into a 90-minute feature, without losing the core message in the process. Apparently their plan was to hope Howard could create a colourful enough world to hold the kiddies' attention to cover up the glaring holes, and to throw in a number of meaningless sub-plots to add unwanted layers to characters who are charming for their simplicity. We get a backstory for the Grinch, along with a love triangle that will surely warm nobody's hearts, and enough time is saved so Jim Carrey can exhaustively flick his fingers and wrinkle his nose when he's not rolling around on the floor or eating glass. The film misses Seuss' point completely by making the Whos a bunch of intolerable consumers with pig-noses, who have long forgotten the more important things to savour during this time of year. It leaves just Cindy-Lou and her father as the only non-soulless, plastic robots with petty problems, so why would we care about them? Of course, it all heads towards the Grinch understanding that there is more to Christmas than material gain and gorging on food, but that doesn't stop the climax from being centred around saving everybody's presents. It's about spending time with your family and loved-ones you see, as long as there's plenty of crap to open come Christmas morning.


Directed by: Ron Howard
Starring: Jim Carrey, Taylor Momsen, Jeffrey Tambor, Christine Baranski, Bill Irwin, Molly Shannon
Country: USA/Germany

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,431: 'Take Care of Your Scarf, Tatiana' (1994)

Finnish director Aki Kaurismaki is up to his usual deadpan business with one of his most enigmatically-titled features, Take Care of Your Scarf, Tatiana, a title which remains a mystery, to me at least, long after the credits have rolled. Shot in black-and-white, the film appears to be Kaurismaki's version of a road movie, often resembling the early films of Wim Wenders, such as Alice in the Cities and The American Friend, although the influence of Jim Jarmusch can also be felt throughout. As is often the case with Kaurismaki, dialogue is delivered with little emotion and passion, story is an afterthought, and the main characters are what many people would refer to as losers. Still, even with all the restraint on show and a running time that that barely touches the hour mark, this is one of the director's funniest features, and certainly one of his most relatable.

We open with Valto (Mato Valtonen), a huge doorstop of a man who resembles Eugene from The Walking Dead with an even more ridiculous haircut. He seems to run a clothing business with his mother, and when parent and son have a tiff over the lack of coffee (he has a serious coffee addiction), Valto locks her away in the cupboard and heads for the auto garage. Here he hooks up with his vodka-swigging friend Reino (Matti Pellonpaa), who has just finished work on Valto's car, and the odd couple head out on a road trip with seemingly no destination in mind. They stop at a bar and are spotted by Russian Klavdia (Kirsi Tykkylainen) and Estonian Tatjana (Kati Outinen), who see these two miserable-looking Finns as their free ride to the harbour for their journey home. And so begins one of the cinema's strangest road-trips, which mainly consists Valto and Reino sulking and ignoring their guests, even when they are forced to sleep in the same room.

Take Care of Your Scarf, Tatiana may frequently surprise those not accustomed to Kaurismaki's distinct auteur style. Not in a dramatic sense of course, but in the way it refuses to veer off into more comfortable genre territory. You keep expecting Valto and Reino to break their silence and start a romance with their new lady friends, but despite the presence of some romantic undercurrents, these men remain a mystery. This doesn't mean that they're unrelatable however, as anybody with the slightest social anxiety will recognise the awkwardness of their interactions, and get a good laugh from it. There's actually more going on here than I realised before reading up about the film after it had finished. Kaurismaki layers this incredibly slight tale with satire and social commentary, but this will fly over the head of most non-Finns such as myself. However, this doesn't dilute the sheer joy to be had with Tatiana. If the characters in Alexander Payne's Sideways were introverted and shy, it may have come out something like this. This is a low-key pleasure and surprisingly upbeat for Kaurismaki, and proves that happiness can be found in unhappiness.


Directed by: Aki Kaurismäki
Starring: Mato Valtonen, Matti Pellonpää, Kati Outinen, Kirsi Tykkyläinen
Country: Finland/Germany

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,373: 'Mission: Impossible III' (2006)

The third instalment of the Mission: Impossible franchise took a while to get off the ground. Originally trusted to director David Fincher (which would have been fascinating to see), the Fight Club director opted out when another project caught his eye, so the reigns were passed to Joe Carnaghan, who had his supporting cast ready to go before a dispute with the studio resulted in his departure also. In stepped J.J. Abrams, who faced the difficult task of reviewing the previous movies' vastly different tones in order to settle on which Ethan Hunt he wanted to bring to the screen. Quite wisely, he went for a bit of both. This was the intuitive, opportunistic Hunt from Brian De Palma's well-staged original, rather than the trigger-happy super-agent from John Woo's effort. Yet he still retains an edge, and Abrams sets out his movie's darker tone from the get-go, as we start during the third act with Hunt in precarious situation with Philip Seymour Hoffman's big bad.

Hunt (Tom Cruise) has left the IMF in favour of a normal life with his bride-to-be Julia (Michelle Monaghan). He has kept the extent of his work for the government quiet and seems to be enjoying being a regular Joe, but his head is soon turned when fellow IMF agent John Musgrave (Billy Crudup) contacts him regarding his former protegee, Lindsay Farris (Keri Russell), who has gone missing in the field while investigating an arms dealer named Owen Davian (Hoffman). Hunt accepts the job and assembles a team (consisting of the returning Ving Rhames, as well as Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Maggie Q) to track her down, but when the mission goes spectacularly wrong, the group are left to track down an item known as the 'Rabbit's Foot', a device capable of global catastrophe. With the head of the IMF (Laurence Fishburne) breathing down his neck and Davian proving himself to be a ruthless and cunning foe, Hunt and the rest of his troupe face their most difficult task yet.

He may have been third choice (although he was cherry-picked by Cruise himself), but the then up-and-coming Abrams proved to be the perfect director to steer the series back on course without upsetting the tone. He finds a perfect balance, delivering spectacular set-pieces that Cruise is, as always, keen to sink his teeth into, as well as re-establishing the team element and tasking them with missions that require a combined effort, and not just Cruise blowing away bad guys in slow-motion. De Palma's original may have been spectacular on occasion, but this third instalment is probably the best of this opening trilogy. There is also an uncomfortable atmosphere throughout, and this is mainly down to Hoffman's spectacular turn as Davian. He is a one-note big bad, and hardly physically intimidating, yet Hoffman's dead-eyed delivery oozes menace, and when he threatens the lives of those closest to our hero, we completely accept that he's capable of butchering the innocent in his pursuit for riches and power. It's hardly new territory for the action genre, but Abrams should be credited with reinvigorating a franchise still going strong 22 years after it introduced itself.


Directed by: J.J. Abrams
Starring: Tom Cruise, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Ving Rhames, Billy Crudup, Michelle Monaghan, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Keri Russell, Maggie Q, Simon Pegg
Country: USA/Germany/China/Italy

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,372: 'Mission: Impossible II' (2000)

John Woo was already a highly acclaimed director by the time he transferred his trade to Hollywood. With the likes of A Better Tomorrow, The Killer and Hard Boiled, produced in his native Hong Kong, he had earned his reputation as an action maestro, one capable of delivering a gun-fight with balletic grace, almost like watching poetry in motion. His Hollywood career started off okay with Hard Target and Broken Arrow, two forgettable if sufficiently entertaining vehicles for Jean-Claude Van Damme and John Travolta. He went up a couple of gears in 1997 with Face/Off, an outrageous thriller with two off-the-leash central performances, and it felt like Woo had finally worked out the formula of translating his chaotic brand of action and humour for American audiences. That was all before Tom Cruise suggested him for the follow-up to Brian De Palma's nifty thriller Mission: Impossible. M:I-2, as the posters branded it, not only manages to be completely hollow, but incredibly boring.

While De Palma made some controversial changes to the formula of the original TV series, the first Mission: Impossible still embraced much of what was loved about it. It was grounded in a world of espionage and secret government departments, with Tom Cruise's relatively inexperienced Ethan Hunt at the centre of the unravelling plot. Woo throws the majority of this out of the window in favour of something more flashy and violent, changing Hunt from an opportunistic rookie to a leather-jacket wearing superhero capable of gravity-defying kicks and physics-defying driving. When we first meet him, he's free-climbing in Utah, in what is the movie's only heart-pounding moment. It establishes this new Hunt as a fearless adrenaline-junkie, and when he finally makes it to the top, he is handed his next mission, should he choose to accept it, via a pair of soon-to-be self-destructed sunglasses. The mission is to track down and retrieve a deadly virus stolen by rogue IMF agent Sean Ambrose (Dougray Scott). To assist him, Hunt must also recruit professional thief Nyah Hall (Thandie Newton), who also happens to be a former flame of Ambrose.

After the baffling plot of the first Mission: Impossible, it's something of a relief that Woo chose to keep things as simple as they are here. With films like this, the story only really serves as a way to get us to the next set-piece. The major issue is that Woo and writer Robert Towne (of The Last Detail and Chinatown fame) fail to inject any life into their characters, or at least give us anyone to root for. I like Tom Cruise and have nothing but respect for his desire to do all of his own stunts, but this smirking, floppy-haired version of Ethan Hunt comes across as a bargain-bin James Bond. Dougray Scott, who is one of the blandest actors around anyway, isn't helped by his one-note villain. Ambrose is simply an evil version of Hunt, only without the hero's plot armour. By the time Ving Rhames and John Polson are brought in for the final showdown, it's all too little, too late. By this time, Mission: Impossible II has already established Hunt as a one-man army, who naturally finds the time to romance his prettiest recruit when she's not busy trying to run him off a cliff. All of this could be forgiven if the action was on point. Guns are pointed dramatically and the camera swirls in slow-motion, but not even the obligatory flying doves can save M:I-2 from yawn-inducing mediocrity. It was a smash-hit at the box-office, but it's reputation meant that it would take six years for J.J. Abrams to save the franchise from an early demise.


Directed by: John Woo
Starring: Tom Cruise, Dougray Scott, Thandie Newton, Ving Rhames, Richard Roxburgh, John Polson, Brendan Gleeson
Country: USA/Germany

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,365: 'Isle of Dogs' (2018)

Fans of American writer and director Wes Anderson are in for a treat with his latest picture. Returning to stop-motion animation for the first time since 2009's Fantastic Mr. Fox, Isle of Dogs is the auteur's most Wes Anderson-y film to date. Set in Japan 20 years into the future, it tells the story of a pack of dogs left to fend for themselves on 'Trash Island', an expansive dumping ground that looks like the type of place WALL-E would feel right at home in. You don't have to be a fan of canines or Japanese culture to enjoy this tale, although it may help. Anderson peppers the film with his trademark deadpan, straight-to-camera sense of humour, and frames every shot with even more attention to detail than his 2014 masterpiece The Grand Budapest Hotel. Children may be put off by the film's idiosyncratic approach, but Anderson followers will indeed be appeased and then some.

The planet is under threat from dog flu and snout fever, both timely reminders of the recent swine flu 'epidemic' and the dangers of fake news. The mayor of Megasaki City (voiced by co-writer Kunichi Nomura), who is part of a dynasty of long-time cat lovers, puts forward a decree to banish all dogs from the mainland and transport them to Trash Island, despite claims of a breakthrough to cure the animals' illness. His ward, a young boy named Atari (Koyu Rankin), is having none of his caregiver's authoritarian attitudes, and travels to the human-less island in order to find his beloved dog Spots (Liev Schreiber), the very first mutt to be dismissed. Atari steals a plane and crashes it into the wasteland, and comes across a pack of mostly former domesticated canines led by the incredibly democratic Rex (Edward Norton). The rest of the gang consists of Boss (Bill Murray), King (Bob Balaban), Duke (Jeff Goldblum), and the only stray in the group, Chief (Bryan Cranston).

Chief is the beating heart of the film, and the character through which Anderson explores most of the film's themes. The black, scruffy dog is proud to be from the streets, and is quick to admit that he's a biter. He's the only one to refuse to sit for Atari, but nevertheless agrees to go with the majority vote and assist Atari in helping his track down his lost friend. From here on in, it's very much an A-to-B adventure, but Anderson and his co-writers (Nomura, Roman Coppola and Jason Schwartzman) ensure that the journey is anything but formulaic. Along the way, we meet the likes of Oracle (Tilda Swinton), Nutmeg (Scarlett Johnansson), Jupiter (F. Murray Abraham) and Gondo (Harvey Keitel), with even Yoko Ono thrown into the mix. Things aren't made easy by the fact that the Japanese actors speak in their native tongue without the assistance of subtitles (although Frances McDormand occasionally pops up as an enthusiastic translator), but this highlights the communication barrier between owner and pet, as well as falling in line with the film's themes of migration and social integration.

Anderson packs in more shots than is usually expected from animation, particularly in the painfully slow process of stop-motion. Rather than accepting this as a limitation, he uses animation as a tool to bring his vision vividly to life with more freedom allowed by live action. The visuals are even more luscious that in Grand Budapest, with the animation retaining a rustic, old-fashioned quality that makes it feel as if you could reach out and actually touch the dog's hairs as they ripple in the wind. As soon as the Taiko drums start to thud on the film's glorious soundtrack, Anderson's love of Japanese cinema can be sensed immediately. The influence of Akira Kurosawa can be felt throughout (a status of Toshiro Mifune appears at one point), but the precision of the framing is pure Ozu, and Tristan Oliver's cinematography relishes exploring what was perhaps Japan's greatest period for cinema. The mediocrity of 2004's The Life Aquatic must have been a wake-up for the filmmaker, urging him away from his comfort zone and towards more unexplored territory. Anderson continues to amaze, amuse and baffle, and has emerged as one of the most important, original voices in American cinema. I fail to see how anyone could not be utterly enchanted by Isle of Dogs.


Directed by: Wes Anderson
Voices: Bryan Cranston, Koyu Rankin, Edward Norton, Bob Balaban, Bill Murray, Jeff Goldblum, Kunichi Nomura, Frances McDormand, Scarlett Johansson
Country: Germany/USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,340: 'Mute' (2018)

Shortly after he wowed cinema-going audiences with his independent debut feature Moon back in 2009, director Duncan Jones talked about his next project, a 'spiritual sequel' to his breakthrough film about a mute man searching for his lost love. Of course, this didn't exactly go to plan, as he followed Moon with the entertaining Source Code in 2011 and big-budget misfire Warcraft: The Beginning in 2016. Jones' stock had fallen, but strength of his debut meant that his next film would always invite interest. After years trying to get his idea onto the screen, Mute finally arrives on Netflix, the kind of platform that would allow Jones to follow through on his unique ideas without the pressure of having to please an audience who had just coughed up £10 to see the film.

The result is a bigger disappointment than Warcraft, mainly because his 2016 effort already had the video-game adaptation stigma attached to it so expectations were understandably reserved. Mute is strange, but not in a good way. It spends over 2 hours telling two loosely connected stories which, when they finally cross over, will no doubt inspire "is that it?" reactions for those who try to remain patient with it. The film starts with an accident involving a young boy in the water. His Amish parents refuse to have the surgery that would allow him to speak, so the boy, named Leo, grows up physically scarred and unable to speak. Unfortunately for him, the technology of the future relies heavily on voice commands, so the imposing lug (played by Alexander Skarsgard) finds it difficult to connect to other people and his surroundings, all except his girlfriend, the beautiful and blue-haired Naadirah (Seyneb Saleh).

A lot of time is spent developing their relationship as one of tenderness and genuine affection, but it is clear that Naadirah has a secret. This is the kind of the film where a character says "I love you, but you don't know me," and keeps a straight face. One night, Leo shows up at the Berlin nightclub in which they both work, only to find her missing. Fearing the worst, the hulking mute sets about uncovering the truth for himself, encountering sleazy brothels and dangerous gangsters along with way. Meanwhile, disgraced American surgeon 'Cactus' Bill (Paul Rudd) runs a black market clinic for the criminal underworld, as he waits for the arrival of forged documents that will allow him and his young daughter to leave Germany. The shifty Bill, a melting pot of anger, bitterness and shame, clearly has something to hide, and so does his creepy friend Duck (Justin Theroux). Could it be related to Naddirah's disappearance?

One of Mute's main issues is that it takes a hell of a long time to get going, taking a whole hour to reveal where it's taking you, and by which point you'll have likely lost interest. The stories of Leo's quest to find Naddirah and the illegal shenanigans of Bill and Duck feel like they belong in two completely different movies, with the tones differing so significantly that it disrupts the film's flow and atmosphere. Rudd, as a sort of evil version of his moustachioed Brian Fantana character from Anchorman, feels miscast at first before settling down and eventually stealing the film. The biggest disappointment of all is the sense of the world-building. This is a longtime passion project for Jones and the idea has likely lingered in his mind for years, but the world he has created feels shockingly hollow. It feels like a half-arsed attempt to replicate Blade Runner, but it's really put to shame by last year's sequel to Ridley Scott's 1982 masterpiece, and the visuals are so unengaging that they hinder the plot rather than moving it forward. There is a hint of a good movie buried in there somewhere, so this is precisely why I'll still go into Jones' next movie with high hopes.


Directed by: Duncan Jones
Starring: Alexander Skarsgård, Paul Rudd, Justin Theroux, Seyneb Saleh, Robert Sheehan
Country: UK/Germany

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,271: 'Atomic Blonde' (2017)

There is a scene about two-thirds into Atomic Blonde that will likely go down in cinema history as one of the most exhilarating displays of visual trickery and good-ol' fashioned stunt work that the action genre has ever offered. Charlize Theron's MI6 spook enters an apartment building in pre-Wall collapse Berlin with a wounded informant and battles gun-toting thugs up and down stairs, in and out of various rooms, using fists, knives, a crowbar, and just about anything else she can lay her hands on. It's a kinetic, utterly dazzling set-piece that eventually takes the violence outside and into a moving car, all in one long, mind-bogglingly complex take. It comes as no surprise that David Leitch, an uncredited director behind 2014's sleeper hit John Wick, is the man calling the shots.

This spectacular moment justifies whatever entry fee you paid to see Atomic Blonde, and highlights just what can be achieved with action cinema when a director like Leitch is the puppet-master behind it. Yet it also underlines the lack of heart and intrigue contained within the rest of this tale of double-agents and double-crosses whenever Theron's Lorraine Broughton isn't kicking butt. She is sent to a Berlin bristling with tension and distrust after MI6 agent James Gascoigne (Sam Hargrave) is murdered by KGB agent Yuri Bakhtin (Johannes Haukur Johannesson) and a wristwatch containing a microfilm list of intelligence agents is stolen. Her task is to find the list, assassinate a double agent known as Satchel, and rendezvous with David Percival (James McAvoy), a fellow agent who has recently 'gone feral'. Matters are complicated when Lorraine falls for young French agent Delphine (Sofia Boutella), and Stasi informant Spyglass (Eddie Marsan) reveals that he has memorised the contents of the microfilm.

Based on Antony Johnston and Sam Hart's graphic novel The Coldest City and re-titled Atomic Blonde to suit the 80's setting, the film looks slick, colourful and chocked full of period detail. While the grey streets of Berlin are laced with ice and stalked by shadowy double agents, the interiors show the German capital in 1989 as a catwalk for the newest fashions and a platform for great music. Theron dons a variety of outfits to suit whatever role she is playing in her mission, naturally looking great in the process, and will likely make many teenagers' dreams come true in her steamy scenes with Boutella. It's all very superficial, with very few characters succeeding to engage on an emotional level. Spyglass, a man trying to save his family from falling into the hands of the Russians and using every tool at his disposal to do so, is the most interesting character in the film. Marsan is always a delight to watch, and it's a shame he doesn't feature more than he does.

Although she certainly looks terrific, Lorraine doesn't really seem to do all that much. Her approach is to enter a room looking fabulous, receive information from the dodgiest-looking person in there, and proceed to dispatch anybody foolish enough to confront her. She's a wafer-thin protagonist, but Theron brings a great physicality to the role, and the actress is now the most accomplished action star working today. As Percival, McAvoy continues to impress with his ability to juggle the good guy, bad guy act. He did so to great effect in Trance and Split, and here he injects a Tyler Durden-esque fashion sense and swagger to his punk-rock rogue agent who may be Lorraine's largest obstacle. Ultimately, Atomic Blonde is a handsome, exciting action movie with fantastic physical performances all round and a central set-piece that will leave you as breathless as its participants. Anyone hoping for a deeper exploration of the shady world it so wonderfully sets up will leave frustratingly underwhelmed.


Directed by: David Leitch
Starring: Charlize Theron, James McAvoy, Eddie Marsan, John Goodman, Toby Jones, Sofia Boutella
Country: Germany/Sweden/USA

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 #1,266: 'We Were Soldiers' (2002)

After Steven Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan reinvented the way the brutality and chaos of war was depicted on the cinema screen back in 1998, Hollywood went slightly nuts for all things World War II. At one point, it felt as though we were getting one every other week, and fatigue naturally kicked in, especially since none measured up to Spielberg's visual masterpiece (if very flawed film), other than Terrence Malick's superior The Thin Red Line released the same year. By 2002, attention was moving towards the Vietnam conflict, an unjust and borderline psychotic war that resulting in heavy losses on all sides. It was a favourite topic for many filmmakers in the 1980's, and produced a few greats, but interest seemed to wane as we moved into the 90's. In 2002, We Were Soldiers was supposed to rekindle our fascination with Vietnam, but has since faded into a long list of half-forgotten war movies.

Based on the book We Were Soldiers Once... and Young by Hal Moore and Joseph L. Galloway, Randall Wallace's film attempts to cover the Battle of Ia Drang from three perspectives: the 400 American men fighting at the front, the 4,000 Vietnamese troops they're up against, and the wives at home fearing the arrival of a taxi cab bringing them unwanted news. The bulk of the action follows Moore (Mel Gibson), then a lieutenant colonel, through training his troops and eventually onto the front line, where intelligence is so sparse that they have no idea what they are up against. It turns out that the Americans are greatly outnumbered, and so begins one of the bloodiest battles of the entire war. He is later joined by reporter Galloway (Barry Pepper), who captured much of the conflict on camera as well as picking up a rifle himself. At home, Moore's wife Julie (Madeleine Stowe) intercepts all the letters informing the devastated wives of their loss to hand-deliver them herself.

We Were Soldiers feels like more of a complete overview on the battle thanks to this unique perspective, while the action is some of the toughest and most unflinching in the genre. Perhaps down to its more observational approach - apparently the events take place almost exactly how it played out in real life - the film often gets criticised and labelled as a pro-war movie. I don't feel that what we see is glamorising or promoting war in any way. On the contrary, it refuses to really to take a stand, and this is what makes Wallace's movie far less interesting than it should be. It all boils down to 'war is Hell', but most people know this already whether they have experienced combat or not. The battle scenes are intense, horrifying and well-staged, and demand to be admired from a technical point of view. But it's nothing we haven't seen before. Despite Chris Klein's failure to really convince as a human, We Were Soldiers features many impressive performances, most notably by Sam Elliott as Sgt. Major Plumley, a gruff Sam Elliott-type who mows down his enemies with a revolver while the rest of his men pack automatics, and Gibson himself, who helps tug on the heartstrings during quiet moments of reflection.


Directed by: Randall Wallace
Starring: Mel Gibson, Madeleine Stowe, Greg Kinnear, Sam Elliott, Chris Klein, Keri Russell, Barry Pepper
Country: USA/Germany

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,258: 'Heli' (2013)

Tongues quickly began flapping after the screening of Amat Escalante's Heli during the Cannes Film Festival, where it was in competition for the Palme d'Or. It's reputation as a brutal and unflinching look at the effects of the drug trade in Mexico even caught the attention of BBC News here in the UK, which is where I first heard of the film. Escalante went on to win Best Director at Cannes, and probably deservedly so. Heli is a beautifully directed film, and wonderfully shot by cinematographer Lorenzo Hagerman. Yet it's matter-of-fact approach and insistence on painting all of its characters with broad shades of grey also makes it difficult to fully engage with. Almost everybody here is flawed in one way or another, and we are locked in a place that saw society crumble long ago.

Essentially a film of two parts, the first half lends much of its focus to 12 year-old Estela (Andrea Vergara) and her relationship with the much older police cadet Beto (Juan Eduardo Palacios). When he isn't being put through brutal and frankly bizarre training routines (he is made to roll in his own sick), Beto promises Estela a better life. One stolen load of cocaine later, and the military (or the cartel - lines are deliberately blurred here) burst into Estela's family home, taking her and older brother Heli (Armando Espitia) off to God-knows-where. The destination is the home of low-ranking cartel members, who proceed to torture and mutilate Heli and Beto. The second half focuses on the aftermath, and the toll the experience takes on Heli. Widespread corruption and brutality leaves a lasting mark on everybody.

The majority of Heli's power comes from its sudden bursts of violence. Even animals and children aren't safe here, and the film sets the tone during its opening scene, a long-take journey on the back of the truck that ends with one of them hanged from a bridge. It's main talking point is the torture sequence, which is one of the grisliest scenes ever committed to film. Not only are genitals set ablaze in one long take, but children are in the room, slouching on sofas and barely batting an eyelid. It's strong and effective stuff, but there's comes a point when you start to wonder if the film has a point to make. The cartel trade has seemingly locked Mexico into a never-ending cycle of violence, but this is nothing new. Heli is best enjoyed from a purely technical point of view, with an uncomfortable, tense atmosphere throughout, even injecting certain scenes with Herzogian strangeness. Still, it's a lot to sit through only to feel the strange sense of emptiness I felt when the credits rolled.


Directed by: Amat Escalante
Starring: Armando Espitia, Andrea Vergara, Linda González, Juan Eduardo Palacios
Country: Mexico/Netherlands/Germany/France

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,195: 'A Royal Affair' (2012)

A Royal Affair opens with a melancholy Princess Caroline Matilda of Great Britain narrating as she pens a letter to her unseen children. Flashing back in time, she is a young and beautiful teenager about to be shipped off to Denmark to marry her cousin, King Christian VII of Denmark, giggling and dreaming about what her new life will be like with a man who sounds like the ideal husband. It would seem that we are in very familiar costume-drama territory, and director Nikolaj Arcel's film makes sure to include all the factors that make the genre so appealing to some: the beautiful young bride; an unknown kingdom; handsome period costumes; a bastard child; and a love affair that is passionate but ultimately doomed. Yet a careful, character-driven approach ensures that A Royal Affair doesn't boil over into overwrought hysterics. What emerges is a tense tale of political intrigue and terrific performances, and a fascinating history lesson to boot.

As the Princess, played by Alicia Vikander, arrives in Denmark, she immediately encounters her husband not as the gallant artist she expected, but as a nervous man-child, giggling to himself while hiding behind a tree. The King (Mikkel Boe Folsgaard) is a puppet on a throne, and quite clearly mentally deranged. He doesn't take much of a liking to his new Queen, and prefers to spend his free time getting drunk in the company of big-breasted prostitutes. Her optimism is quickly turned into bitterness, and is pleased when her husband decides to take a year off his duties to tour Europe. Shortly after his return, German Johann Struensee (Mads Mikkelsen), a skilled yet humble doctor, is recruited as the King's personal physician. He instantly forges a strong bond with the mad King, who is pleased to have a man of stature and intelligence by his side amidst his stern, old-fashioned council. Struensee's influence in court grows, but he finds himself caught up in a dangerous love affair with the Queen that could mean both of their heads should they be discovered.

This being 18th century Denmark, the King is surrounded by a council of religious old men looking to keep the country firmly in the Dark Ages. Struensee is a believer in the Age of Enlightenment, a progressive philosophical movement spearheaded by the likes of Voltaire and Rousseau. The Queen also shares his liberal views, and their love story isn't so much about their own sexual impulses but a driven and united desire to illuminate their country. Realising just how great an influence he is on the King, the doctor quickly sets about abolishing oppressive laws such as capital punishment, the torturing of suspects, and censorship. This immediately puts him at odds with the ruling aristocracy, who view him as a foreigner destroying their fatherland, and they waste no time looking for a way to expel him from court. It's alarming just how familiar it all sounds with the general one-step forward, two-steps back nature of politics. The three leads are all strong, with Mikkelsen in particular convincing as the reserved man of Enlightenment. By avoiding dramatic melodrama, A Royal Affair succeeds as a simmering portrayal of social disintegration and an intimate, intellectual love story.


Directed by: Nikolaj Arcel
Starring: Alicia Vikander, Mads Mikkelsen, Mikkel Boe Følsgaard, Trine Dyrholm, David Dencik
Country: Denmark/Sweden/Czech Republic/Germany

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,186: 'Pandora's Box' (1929)

The journey taken by Georg Wilhelm Pabst's Pandora's Box to reach its status as a classic of Weimar German cinema is an interesting one. It received mild praise upon its release, but was shrouded in controversy due to its frank depiction of sexuality, even featuring one of cinema's first portrayals of a gay woman. The film was soon forgotten about, until it was re-discovered by a group of socialites and film enthusiasts in the 1950s - some close friends with star Louise Brooks - who heralded the film a masterpiece and set out to spread the word. Soon enough, Pabst's work was undergoing a revival, but this was overshadowed by the attention Brooks received. She was being talked about as an even more striking screen presence than the likes of Garbo and Dietrich, much to her amusement.

The truth is, Pandora's Box would perhaps only be an okay movie without Brooks in the title role. A known party girl, she started as a flapper dancer and bit-part actress before she was signed to Paramount by producer Walter Wanger, catching the eye of Charlie Chaplin in the process. As the film roles came in, she developed a hatred for the Hollywood scene, and fled to Europe after being denied a pay rise. She was unofficially blacklisted in her homeland, but it would be in Germany that she would make the two movies that would cement her as a goddess of the silent era, Pandora's Box and Diary of a Lost Girl, both directed by the Austrian pioneer of the psycho-sexual melodrama, Georg Wilhelm Pabst. Both told a story of a care-free, and careless, woman brought down by a society that had different plans for her, and Brooks was the perfect face to channel such a dangerous force of nature.

Here she plays Lulu, a young dancer and aspiring performer engaging in an affair with the soon-to-be-married newspaper publisher Dr. Ludwig Schon (Fritz Kortner). On the night of her performance as a trapeze artist, Lulu refuses to go on stage while Schon's fiancee is in the crowd, and kicks up such a fuss that he ends up marrying her instead. Events eventually force her to go on the run with Schon's son (Francis Lederer), and she finds herself in the hands of increasingly unscrupulous men as her naivety and promiscuity invite trouble. At over 2 hours, it's too long, but the film always holds your interest because of Brooks. Her performance is incredibly modern and playful, and there's something almost dangerous about her. Like a beautiful woman who is obviously nothing but trouble, you cannot help but be drawn in by Brooks' seduction. Pabst tastefully weaves a story of drama, tragedy and sexuality with an intense eroticism, but it is the star, with her perfectly symmetrical face and iconic bob hairstyle, who leaves the great impression.


Directed by: Georg Wilhelm Pabst
Starring: Louise Brooks, Fritz Kortner, Francis Lederer, Carl Goetz
Country: Germany

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,156: 'Downfall' (2004)

While there may be a multitude of movies produced in Europe and America depicting the atrocities of Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich - both to dramatic and deliberately comical effect - Germany itself is notoriously apprehensive when facing its dark, and very recent, history. Based on accounts from historians and witnesses, including Andre Heller and Othmar Schmiderer's documentary Blind Spot: Hitler's Secretary (from which scenes are used to book-end the film), Oliver Hirschbiegel's Der Untergang, or Downfall, is one of the best movies ever made about Hitler. Rather than investigating how the war veteran and struggling artist became the egotistical tyrant he is remembered as being, Downfall focuses on his final days holed up in a bunker as the war comes to a bloody end around him.

It's a testament to Bruno Ganz's performance that Hitler remains the enigmatic figure seen in Leni Riefenstahl's documentaries, even though he is descending into madness and is clearly in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease. As the Russian army closes in on Berlin and the shell blasts increase in volume through the walls, Hitler and his cabinet are faced with the crippling realisation that their vision of global ethnic cleansing and forming a Germanic empire has failed spectacularly. Often hushed, cunning and inspirational to the men who still adore him, the Fuhrer is also prone to outrageous demands and formidable tantrums. He is a paradoxical cluster, damning his people to death by demanding they still resist an enemy that has already defeated them, yet Ganz still finds humanity in there. Between scolding the Jewish race and sending units into certain death, he mourns the death of his beloved dog Blondi and forms a tender relationship with Eva Braun (Juliane Kohler). He is humanised, but never sympathetic.

Yet Downfall is not simply a document of Hitler's final days; it is much more about Germany as a whole, and how the country fell into chaos as the Reich was toppled. We gain access into the bunker through Traudl Junge (Alexandra Maria Lara), Hitler's secretary for many years. Out in the increasingly perilous streets of Berlin, Professor Schenck (Christian Berkel) does all he can to help the weak and injured while Hitler Youth assassinate old men fleeing the bombing. Many of the cabinet, including Albert Speer (Heino Ferch) and Hermann Fegelein (Thomas Kretschmann), are desperate to flee and urge their Fuhrer to do the same, while contradicting his orders in the hope of salvaging some sort of peace. Despite the scope of the story, you'll never hear Downfall being referred to as an ensemble piece or a war epic, as it retains a sense of intimacy throughout thanks to Rainer Klaussman's grainy, claustrophobic cinematography, with even the wide-open streets of Berlin feeling oddly suffocating. It's a brave, bold movie, and one that goes about its business with focus and a stern grip on the complex unfolding of events.


Directed by: Oliver Hirschbiegel
Starring: Bruno Ganz, Alexandra Maria Lara, Ulrich Matthes, Juliane Köhler, Christian Berkel, Heino Ferch, Thomas Kretschmann
Country: Germany/Austria/Italy

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,129: 'Elf' (2003)

At first glance, Elf would appear to be one of countless holiday-season cash-ins with daft costumes and even sillier special effects, featuring a well-known actor performing pantomime on a bigger budget and grabbing an easy pay-day in the process. That is stars Will Ferrell, one of cinema's most naturally hilarious funnymen who seems to be caught up in an endless loop of mediocrity - Blades of Glory and Stranger than Fiction excluded - as the titular human-turned-elf, bodes even worse. Throw in some little people dressed in elf costumes and a romance involving surely the only woman to accept a date with a man who claims to be from the North Pole, and it would seem like a movie tailor-made for a critical beat-down.

Only Elf is genuinely charming, and even more alarmingly, incredibly funny at times. Using Ferrell's man-child comedy chops to the fullest extent, this may actually be the best work Ferrell has ever done. He plays Buddy, an orphan accidentally whisked off to Santa's homeland as a baby. Taken in by the sympathetic Papa Elf (the wonderful Bob Newhart), it doesn't take long until Buddy is towering over his adoptive father and his co-workers. Learning of his biological pop Walter (played by James Caan) and that he is in fact a human, the 6-foot elf journeys to New York City to be with his real family, only for his miserable publisher dad to shun him. Buddy learns that his world no longer buys into tales of flying reindeers and a jolly fat man who knows if we've been bad, disbelieving in the 'magic' of Christmas and draining the power from Santa's sleigh in the process.

Directed by Jon Favreau and written by David Berenbaum, Elf is pretty standard stuff story-wise, and is hampered by a predictable sub-plot involving Walter's struggling publishing company and his dire need to lighten up. Yet there are many touching moments, particularly in the scenes involving Buddy and his young half-brother, and the former's awkward courting of a pretty toy store assistant (Zooey Deschanel) initially freaked out by his maniacal claims but who eventually succumbs to his hyperactive charms. It all inevitably leads to a climax built around a special-effect laden set-piece as Santa struggles to deliver the presents with a dying sleigh, but this is expected from a movie designed to win over those looking for something easy-going and festive. The world has grown cynical, and perhaps so have I, but Elf reminded me that it is no fun being so.


Directed by: Jon Favreau
Starring: Will Ferrell, James Caan, Bob Newhart, Zooey Deschanel, Edward Asner, Mary Steenburgen
Country: USA/Germany

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie