Review #1,438: 'First Man' (2018)

Fifty years have passed since the Apollo 11 mission sent three astronauts into outer space and onto the surface of the moon for the first time in the history of mankind. The arrival of First Man, Damien Chazelle's part-Neil Armstrong biography, part-NASA procedural, naturally raises the question of whether the U.S.'s greatest achievement in still relevant in today's political and economic upheaval. Rather than taking the chest-puffing, flag-planting patriotic route to reassure people that America is still indeed great, Chazelle's turns this story - which isn't just about Armstrong - into a celebration of the efforts of everybody involved in the space program, and how they overcame incredible odds to finally set foot on the moon. The brave souls involved did so with the knowledge that a mere loose wire or an unforeseen spark in the electrics can spell certain death, and that nothing but a rickety wall separates them from the warmth of the cramped cockpit and the infinite darkness of space.

Chazelle puts us on edge from the get-go and straight into the adrenaline-fuelled life of an astronaut, as Armstrong, played by Ryan Gosling, struggles to re-enter the atmosphere while piloting the X-15 rocket plane. It's a masterclass of editing, sound design and cinematography, as the death-trap rattles and clunks while alarms blare in the background. And then, it's silence, as the blue clouds come into focus and we touch down in the desert. It's a trick performed time and time again by Chazelle and his technical staff, carving a clear but thin line between peril and safety, as well as allowing the audience to breathe again. The various missions and tests carried out as NASA prepares for the incredible (and beating the Soviets in the process) are captured with expert precision, keen to recreate these real-life events with painstaking accuracy, while injecting these moments with enough cinema magic to keep the palms sweaty. I'd love to hear Neil deGrasse Tyson's thoughts. A special mention must also go to composer Justin Hurwitz, whose otherworldly score - which employs theremins and synthesizers to hark back to the sci-fi B-movies of the 1950s - creates a strange, unsettling mood, bursting into glorious life when the final moments arrive.

But First Man isn't just a matter-of-fact account of NASA's finest hour. While some key players are somewhat drowned out (Pablo Schreiber's Jim Lovell makes a somewhat fleeting appearance and Corey Stoll's Buzz Aldrin is painted as little more than an arsehole), this is also an incredibly personal story of an introverted man whose mind seems to be away with the stars long before he leaves Earth. Haunted by the loss of his young daughter, Armstrong is quiet and straight-laced, even addressing his own sons like press at a news conference. It takes a special actor to pull this off, and Gosling seems to excel when playing the silent, stoic type, radiating charisma with a mere glance and emoting so much when doing so little. The film takes a slight detour into schmaltz with a sub-plot involving Armstrong carrying the bracelet of his dead daughter, but given the central character's withdrawn nature, it's easy to understand why Chazelle felt that it was required. There's also solid support from Jason Clarke as Ed White, Kyle Chandler as Deke Slayton, and Claire Foy, who is given a bit more to do as Janet Armstrong than the wives-at-home usually get in astronaut films. With time, First Man will be the definitive moon landing movie. While it's a stunning procedural, Chazelle directs the thing like a conductor, forging a spiritual journey in a world that laughs at the idea of feeling God's presence.


Directed by: Damien Chazelle
Starring: Ryan Gosling, Claire Foy, Jason Clarke, Kyle Chandler, Corey Stoll, Pablo Schreiber, Shea Whigham
Country: USA/Japan

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,404: 'The Quick and the Dead' (1995)

By 1995, the western genre had all but disappeared completely from our cinema screens. Black-and-white tales of cowboys and Indians in America's Old West was the stuff your granddad would watch on television during the day and claim they just don't make 'em like this anymore. They didn't stop completely however, with the likes of Jim Jarmusch's Dead Man making an earnest attempt to infuse the genre with a psychedelic, folksy edge, and George P. Cosmatos' Tombstone turning the events at the OK Corral into an explosive action thriller. Some, like Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven, while adding a more sombre tone, successfully stuck the traditions of the genre, while others, like Sam Raimi's The Quick and the Dead, simply took an old-fashioned premise and ran with it. If you're looking for revisionism or an interesting take on an iconic time in America's history, then The Quick and the Dead ain't the film for that, but you may just find yourself having a bit more fun that you expected.

The town of Redemption was once a thriving community, but it now rests in the hands of the ruthless mayor and former outlaw John Herod (Gene Hackman). Herod enjoys a nice house while taxing his citizens 50% on any money they make, and apparently relieves his boredom by hosting a quick-draw contest every year. Gunslingers from all across the country arrive to take part - but God knows why, given the obviously high risk of death - including the mysterious Ellen (Sharon Stone), who shares a history with both the town and Herod himself. Also in town is Kid (Leonardo DiCaprio), a cocky teenager with a steady hand who also believes he is Herod's unacknowledged son, and a repentant outlaw-turned-preacher named Cort (Russell Crowe). Cort is dragged into the contest against his will by Herod's cronies, and the boss man is seemingly angered at his former associate's new anti-violence stance. There's backstory and melodrama, but it's all just an excuse for a series of stand-offs in a town where it always seems to be high noon.

While subverting expectations by enlisting a woman to play the central gunslinger, Raimi may as well have cast a broom in a wig, as Stone struggles to convincingly brood and frown and maintain any kind of interest in her character. Faring considerably better are DiCaprio and Crowe, who were just a few years off Titanic and Gladiator and the global stardom that followed. Their charisma and star quality are as clear as day, especially when they share a scene with the one-note Stone. For a film that boasts a wonderful supporting cast (Roberts Blossom, Tobin Bell, Keith David, Lance Henriksen and Gary Sinise are just some of the familiar faces), they all cower in the shadow of Gene Hackman, who somehow manages to turn some truly atrocious dialogue into Shakespeare. Yet the real star is Raimi's crazy camera lens. Before he was bringing Peter Parker's swinging exploits vividly to life in Spider-Man, he was crash-zooming on the faces of readying gunslingers and capturing daylight through a bullet-hole in the belly. It's silly, outrageous and wonderful. The problem is everything that comes in between, from the dreary central hero to the unengaging backstories.


Directed by: Sam Raimi
Starring: Sharon Stone, Gene Hackman, Russell Crowe, Leonardo DiCaprio, Tobin Bell, Roberts Blossom, Kevin Conway, Keith David, Lance Henriksen, Pat Hingle
Country: Japan/USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,378: 'The Life of Oharu' (1952)

Although much of Kenji Mizoguchi's early work is now lost, the Japanese director is regarded as one of the country's finest thanks mainly to a handful of films made in the 1950s, many of which are considered masterpieces. The likes of Ugetsu Monogatari, Sansho the Bailiff and Street of Shame will no doubt be known to anyone with a keen interest in cinema, but none have the same lasting impression as The Life of Oharu, Mizoguchi's tale of one woman's plight in 1600's Japan. He was considered one of the first feminist directors, and much of his life was spent writing about their mistreatment at the hands of a matriarchal society rooted in class tradition. He was also known for frequenting brothels, but rather than paying for their services, Mizoguchi would instead listen to their stories. We meet Oharu (Kinuyo Tanaka) as a middle-aged prostitute, spending her nights by the city's gates begging or trying to sell her body to drunken wanderers.

She tells her friends how earlier that night an older man had brought her to a home full of young men, displaying her ageing face to the group as a way to convince them not to pay for prostitutes. They ask Oharu about her past, but she doesn't want to talk about it. Visiting a Buddhist temple, she notices that one of the statutes of Buddha bares a striking resemblance to her one and only love, a lowly retainer named Katsunosuke (Toshiro Mifune). Decades earlier, Oharu was a woman of high station, and shunned the advances of the young page simply because society wouldn't allow it. She could not resist true love however, and the two are eventually caught. While he is sent to the chopping block, Oharu's family are stripped of their status and forced to live out in the country. Her father (Ichiro Sugai) blames Oharu, but his attitude changes when she is chosen to produce the heir of Lord Matsudaira (Toshiaki Konoe). However, she is banished after giving birth to a boy to return to a family who will soon sell her into prostitution.

What transpires is a series of cruel punishments inflicted on our protagonist, and tragedy is born out of the fact that Oharu makes few of her own choices. There seems to be no place for true love in this society, something that still effects many countries today. A system seems to be in place that deflects the blame from the men who usher Oharu into these positions. She eventually serves as a maid, but loses her post when she is recognised from her days as a prostitute, and is even turned away from becoming a nun because of her 'sinful' past. The plot may sound like pure melodrama, but Mizoguchi is careful to avoid using broad strokes or losing focus of the larger picture. The camera is mostly still and precise, and also keeps its distance. Mizoguchi isn't interested in grand emotive close-ups - he wants you to see the whole picture as Oharu is shoved through her life like a puppet of little value. Most of us have gone through our lives making choices based on our core values, having the opportunity to stand up against anything that may threaten our moral code. The Life of Oharu is about a character completely stripped of this freedom, and her strength to bend rather than break. It's incredibly bleak stuff, but a masterpiece of measured character study.


Directed by: Kenji Mizoguchi
Starring: Kinuyo Tanaka, Tsukie Matsuura, Ichirô Sugai, Toshirô Mifune
Country: Japan

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

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

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

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

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


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

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,264: 'The Streetfighter's Last Revenge' (1974)

In Tony Scott's True Romance, from a screenplay by Quentin Tarantino, Christian Slater's Clare Worley takes his date to the movies to see Sonny Chiba's Streetfighter trilogy. When he is questioned about Chiba's questionable 'heroics', Worley responds that, "he ain't so much a good guy as he is just a bad motherfucker." A long-time fan, Tarantino hits the nail on the head here (he would go on to cast his idol in the Kill Bill films). While Bruce Lee was wowing the world with the speed and agility of the martial arts, Sonny Chiba was demonstrating its brutal, more unforgiving side. In The Streetfighter's Last Revenge, Chiba's anti-hero Takuma Tsurugi is at his most sadistic. He may have punched a guy's eyeballs out of his head in the previous instalment, but here he calmly burns a thug alive in an incinerator.

Much of the appeal of Chiba's movies lies with his sneering approach to the ancient arts, where he is far more comfortable sadistically beating a bad guy to a bloody pulp than he is with finding inner peace. This trilogy-closer has upped his mean streak, and made things a hell of a long weirder. The Streetfighter was excellent, Return of the Streetfighter was passable, and The Streetfighter's Last Revenge comes across as a bunch of scenes discarded from the previous movies for being too bonkers. Not only is Tsurugi a near-unstoppable punch, kick and throw machine, but he now dons Mission: Impossible-esque face masks to disguise his identity, and at one point bears vampire fangs for unexplained reasons. There's also a villain even James Bond would chuckle at: A mafia hitman who dresses like a mariachi with a giant sombrero and shoots invisible laser beams out of his hands.

The plot itself is incredibly simple. Tsurugi is hired to rescue Go Owada (Akira Shioji) from a police riot in exchange for a hefty payment. When he goes to collect his loot, he is handed a bag of cut-up newspaper and is attacked by the Owada family's men. Furious, he decides to take revenge on the gangsters. There's also a stolen tape and a master foe in Kunagami (Koji Wada). Noticeably less violent than the previous entries, this third feature shares more in common with a spy film than the martial arts genre. As a result, it's less fun, and only manages to pique the interest when at its most idiosyncratic and just plain daft. It's also nice to see exploitation icon Reiko Ike in a supporting role as Chiba's wannabe sidekick. But ultimately, Last Revenge stutters through a threadbare story, failing to deliver the sort of gory chopsocky that made the original so wonderful. Clearly the weakest of the trilogy.


Directed by: Shigehiro Ozawa
Starring: Sonny Chiba, Reiko Ike, Etsuko Shiomi, Yutaka Nakamura
Country: Japan

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,234: 'Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence' (2004)

Despite the critical and commercial success of Mamoru Oshii's Ghost in the Shell, an adaptation of the equally-popular manga by Masamune Shirow, it took a whole nine years for a sequel to arrive. Without Oshii's involvement, a spin-off series entitled Stand Alone Complex was launched, which satisfied fans despite having very little connection to the movie, but shared many of its themes of cyber-punk futurism, perilous technological advancements, and philosophical pondering. Oshii's sequel, Innocence, which picks up the story of the original some years later, was what the fans really wanted. But does it live up to the legacy left by Ghost in the Shell, a film now considered a classic of the sci-fi genre, animated or not? It's focus is slight, but the ambition remains lofty, however Innocence certainly cowers in the presence of its towering predecessor.

Huge advancements in cybernetics now mean that the line between human and technology is more difficult to decipher than ever. Humans utilise robotics to increase their physical and mental potential, and your soul (or 'ghost') and memories can be downloaded, stored and transferred. Batou (voiced by Akio Otsuka), more cyborg than human, works for Section 9. One of his few memories is that of his former partner Major Motoko Kusanagi (Atsuko Tanaka), whose ghost disappeared into cyberspace at the end of the previous film. Now partnered with the mostly-human rookie Togusa (Koichi Yamadera), the bickering cops start to investigate a series of murders committed by malfunctioning gynoids, or sex bots. The trail leads them from the yakuza to a popular robot manufacturer, who provide a certain service for those with the money to pay for it.

The plot is be relatively straight-forward and carries the tone of a buddy-cop noir for the most part, although there's an occasional detour into mind-fucking 'ghost-hack' territory. But Oshii is less interested in the narrative driving Batou to get where he needs to be than the philosophical questions raised by this beautiful, terrifying future. The dialogue, which pulls quotes from various obscure philosophical texts, becomes increasingly difficult to keep up with, especially when the majority of the characters spend more time debating their place in the world than doing their actual job. And if you're watching with subtitles, like I did, then good luck to you. To compare it to The Matrix Reloaded may be somewhat harsh, as Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence boasts some stunning animation (a blend of hand-drawn and computer animation), and a collection of well-staged, bone-crunching action scenes. Some of the imagery is genuinely haunting, and it's in these moments that this sequel feels like it may live up to its predecessor.


Directed by: Mamoru Oshii
Voices: Akio Ôtsuka, Atsuko Tanaka, Kôichi Yamadera, Tamio Ôki
Country: Japan

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,229: 'Lady Snowblood: Love Song of Vengeance' (1974)

Based on the manga comic by Kazuo Koike, 1973's Lady Snowblood is a simplistic rape-revenge thriller, pitting one woman with a mastery of swordsmanship against a hoard of faceless and disposable foes standing in her way. Opening with snow falling on darkness, Toshiya Fujita's film is also incredibly beautiful, offering a variety of strikingly colourful images, more often than not spattered with blood red. Stills from the movie could be framed and hung on your wall, but the main joy to be had is with its narrative simplicity and thrilling swordplay. The sight of Meiko Kaji slicing down one baddie after the next combined with her thirst for revenge propelled Lady Snowblood to exploitation royalty.

The sequel came the very next year, and like most successes in which the hero achieves their goal and nicely wraps up the story, the only option going forward is to broaden the scope and give the protagonist a new mission. This approach is rarely successful, and Lady Snowblood: Love Song of Vengeance struggles to recapture the magic of its predecessor. With Snowblood a wanted woman, she is mercilessly pursued by the police until she eventually throws down her sword to prevent further bloodshed. Sentence to death, she is saved from the noose by Seishiro Kikui (Shin Kishida), the head of the Secret Police, and given the task of infiltrating anarchist Ransui (Juzo Itami) to locate a document that will convince the people to rise up against the government. When her allegiances change, the deadly assassin finds herself on the run again, and soon out for further revenge.

The fight choreography is once again startling, with buckets of blood spurting from the unlikeliest of places. If anything, it improves on the first and certainly delivers more of it, with an early beach massacre and a climactic battle on a row of steps being the standout set-pieces. It moves at a fast pace, and offers historical context in snippets of black-and-white news footage (although some, if not all, were made for the film) and narration. Yet this also means that we're hit with a rather convoluted plot involving many characters, each with their own personal turmoil and ambitions. This takes away the sense of personal fury of the first film, with Kaji given few lines and little to do other than fight when called upon. She does shine when given the chance however, and hardcore fans of the genre will no doubt lap the balletic carnage.


Directed by: Toshiya Fujita
Starring: Meiko Kaji, Jûzô Itami, Kazuko Yoshiyuki, Yoshio Harada, Shin Kishida
Country: Japan

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,189: 'The Guyver' (1991)

Very loosely based on the Japanese manga of the same name by Yoshiki Takaya, The Guyver, also known as Mutronics in Europe, is one of those little oddities you may have caught on late-night TV when you were younger and loved, only to realise it's rather terrible when viewed again through more mature goggles. Directed by special effects maestros Screaming Mad George (Bride of Re-Animator) and Steve Wang (Hell Comes to Frogtown), produced by B-movie favourite Brian Yuzna, and co-starring Re-Animator alumni David Gale and Jeffrey Combs, The Guyver is custom-made to be an exploitation enthusiast's wet-dream. Yet, despite the wealth of rubber-suited monsters on show, it's really rather rubbish, but as rubbish goes, it certainly passes the time.

An opening scroll, which goes on for far too long, informs us that humans were created by ancient aliens who implanted a special gene into a select few which enables the host to transform into a hideous monster at will, known as 'Zoanoids'. These evil creatures now run a powerful organisation called Chronos, and are studying an artefact called the Guyver; a special device which can empower the possessor with organic armour and superpowers. Concerned about the power it will grant the monsters should they learn how to use it, a scientist within the corporation, Dr. Segawa (Greg Joung Paik), steals the device with the aim of passing it on to gruff cop Max (Mark Hamill). The doctor is murdered, but not before hiding the Guyver away. When Segawa's daughter Mizky (Vivian Wu) is informed, her goofball boyfriend Sean (Jack Armstrong) follows her to the crime scene, only to become the unwilling wielder of the Guyver's magic.

I almost wished I like The Guyver more, as it's clearly made by artists who understand why people love these kinds of films. Mad George and Wang make sure that we see the costumes and make-up in their full glory, rather than just glimpsed in shadows, but the fight scenes seem to go on forever. They are so clumsily choreographed - lots of punches and kicks that seem to inflict no damage - that it often feels like a slightly more violent episode of the original Power Rangers show. There is also the issue of the horrible humour, featuring one racial stereotype prone to outbursts of rap, played earnestly by '70s TV star Jimmie Walker. If you are looking for an adaptation that does justice to the mythology of the manga on which it is based, then you'll be completely underwhelmed. If you're a fan of low-budget trash, then there are plenty of familiar faces (including Michael Berryman in a prominent role) and fan-service to tide you over.

Directed by: Screaming Mad George, Steve Wang

Starring: Jack Armstrong, Mark Hamill, Vivian Wu, David Gale, Michael Berryman, Jimmie Walker, Jeffrey Combs

Country: USA/Japan

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,120: 'The Secret Life of Pets' (2016)

The Secret Life of Pets, the latest cutesy, family-friendly slice of talking-animal animation from Illumination Entertainment, feels like it was written as a result of a producer stumbling upon the 'ninja cat' video from YouTube. The trailers promised a fresh spin on the usual cartoon animal antics, with the action focusing on what our mischievous but lovable pets got up to when we leave for work every morning, whether it be inviting their neighbourhood friends round for a party, raiding our fridges for chicken and cake, or using the whisk as a vibrating scratching post. It felt like we were going to get Toy Story with cats and dogs, but what we get is a 90 minute chase sequence bereft of originality and charm.

If you're not familiar with the company Illumination Entertainment, they're the ones infesting what feels like every advert, bill-board and internet video with their Minion characters, those yellow, bespectacled creatures from Despicable Me (2010) who inexplicably inspire laughter from many by simply making a noise, and inspiring children everywhere to demand their parents cough up money on merchandise. Life of Pets is so devoid of ideas that it would be more appropriate to label it an extended advertisement for a new toy range. The latest must-have toy is Max (voiced with an Average Joe twang by Louis C.K.), a Jack Russell terrier who loves his owner Katie (Ellie Kemper), but pines for her every day as she leaves him to sulk in the apartment they share.

Despite spending most of his day feeling lonely, Max is perfectly happy lapping up all the attention whenever she is home, and hooking up with his friends - fat cat Chloe (Lake Bell), pug Mel (Bobby Moynihan), dachshund Buddy (Hannibal Buress) and budgie Sweetpea - when she isn't. However, Max's idyllic lifestyle is thrown into disarray when Katie brings home a huge, shaggy rescued stray named Duke (Eric Stonestreet). A series of events unleash Max and Duke onto the busy streets of New York, where they must dodge vicious alley cats and the always-lurking pound in a bid to get home, but instead find themselves in a kind of terrorist cell for disgruntled former pets led by the maniacal rabbit Snowball (Kevin Hart). Max's disappearance alerts the smitten Pomeranian Gidget (Jenny Slate) from across the street, who rounds up the gang for a rescue mission.

If you've seen the trailers then you've already seen the best parts of the movie, for when the attention remains on the domestic quirks of the many animals on show, there are laughs and fun to be had. By taking the action outside of the home for the majority of the running time, directors Yarrow Cheney and Chris Renaud lose the hook, and events quickly devolve into almost every other audience-friendly animation not made by Pixar or Disney you've recently seen. Worse still, is that the many set-pieces aren't funny, with too much reliance on prat-falls and Kevin Hart's high-pitched squealing to generate any laughs. It's all just noise and colour and no heart, with only Slate's husky-voiced spunkiness and Albert Brooks' slightly unsettling eagle Tiberius managing to inject any life into their characters. It does little but reinforce just how good Disney's Zootopia was, and remind us how Illumination's priorities lie with how much cash is lining its pocket.


Directed by: Yarrow Cheney, Chris Renaud
Voices: Louis C.K., Eric Stonestreet, Kevin Hart, Jenny Slate, Ellie Kemper, Albert Brooks, Lake Bell
Country: USA/Japan

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,114: 'Malcolm X' (1992)

Malcolm X, Spike Lee's epic portrayal of the street hustler turned spokesman for the Nation of Islam who was assassinated at the age of 39, is undoubtedly the director's most assured, complex and mature film, but it is a wonder that it was ever made at all. Controversy began long before production even started, with heavy criticism laid on the fact that Norman Jewison was lined up direct what many, including Lee, felt was a project a black director should handle. When Jewison gracefully bowed out and Lee took over, many still felt that the polarising activist's life would somehow be whitewashed, labelling Lee a 'Buppie' (middle-class African-American).

The irony of many of the statements thrown at the biopic before it was even made was highlighted, and the resulting film was a 3 hour 20 minute testament to Lee's persistence at getting his hands on a story he had dreamt about making since film school. The studio had thrown in a budget for and insisted on a 2 hour 15 minute running time, but Lee, understanding that the contradictions and evolution of Malcolm's teachings and the many events and influences that helped shape the man demanded a longer running time. When the budget was exhausted, Lee called in for donations from the African-American community, and many of them obliged. Somehow, it's still too short to really get to heart of Malcolm, but it's certainly a far better film than it would have been had Lee not been so insistent at bringing his vision to the screen.

Malcolm's life was crammed with incident, and Lee does a decent job getting almost everything in. Flashbacks to his childhood, when his mother and father were tormented by the Ku Klux Klan and his family lived under the constant threat of death, are juxtaposed with his early life as a sharp-suited, ambitious numbers runner in Harlem known as Red, working underneath gangster West Indian Archie (Delroy Lindo). His actions soon land him in prison, where he meets Baines (Albert Hall), a fellow inmate working for Elijah Muhammad (Al Freeman Jr.) and the Nation of Islam. Baines teaches Malcolm that the drugs and alcohol he enjoys so much are simply ways for the white man to keep the black man in their place, and that the white man is, without exception, the devil. Malcolm leaves prison as Malcolm X, ditching the 'slave name' given to him by his ancestor's owners, and is transformed into an extremely enigmatic and convincing spokesman for the Nation of Islam.

The rush of excitement and danger of the opening third soon gives way to a more serious tone, as Malcolm's radical views on segregation under the watchful eye of 'the honourable' Elijah Muhammad makes him an incredibly controversial figure; loved, hated and feared in equal measure. Malcolm's popularity soon causes rifts and jealousy within the ranks of the Nation, and he sees the man who once took him under his wing become a deadly nemesis. His wife Betty Shabazz (Angela Bassett) receives threatening phone calls, and the family's house is set ablaze. Lee's technical discipline throughout these moments, especially for a director who usually embraces visual flourishes, ensures that a steady, gloomy momentum builds up towards Malcolm's eye-opening pilgrimage to Mecca and eventual murder.

A film of such emotional weight also calls for a great performance, and Denzel Washington delivers in spades. Even when Malcolm is at his most questionable, Washington imbues the character with the same charm, wit and magnetism that no doubt saw him sore through the ranks of the Nation and become loved by many. When the pace sags, and it frequently does, Washington manages to draw you back in with his effortless screen presence. The film manages to paint a well-rounded picture of a man who underwent a few radical changes in his life, thanks both to Lee's thoughtful approach and Washington's incredible performance. Lee does go slightly overboard with his worship of the man at the climax, as Ossie Davis reads a eulogy over a montage of children declaring "I am Malcolm X!" and a speech from Nelson Mandela, but this doesn't do too much damage to what is engrossing, detailed and fearless biopic of an inspirational man.


Directed by: Spike Lee
Starring: Denzel Washington, Angela Bassett, Albert Hall, Al Freeman Jr., Delroy Lindo
Country: USA/Japan

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,076: 'Warcraft: The Beginning' (2016)

It was only a matter of time before the massive online role-playing game World of Warcraft was adapted for the big screen. With high fantasy still hugely popular thanks to Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit trilogies and HBO's Game of Thrones, now seemed the ideal time to bring Warcraft's world of orcs, mages, trolls and elves to the cinema-going audience. Yet even with a talented director at the helm, Duncan Jones, Warcraft flopped hard domestically, but proved such a smash-hit in China that there's now talk of a sequel tailored solely for the Chinese market. That little factoid, symbolic of the increasing importance of overseas box-office to U.S. productions, is probably the only interesting thing to emerge from the film.

Somewhere in this tale of giant green orcs, giant grey orcs, magical portals, hairy men, hairier mages, grumpy dwarves and huge CGI battles, there's the faint whiff of a plot that focuses on both sides of a war between the peaceful humans and a brutal hoard of orcs. In order to cater for us noobs - those of us who have never spent days slurping energy drinks and munching on Doritos in front of our computer playing the game - writers Jones and Charles Leavitt spend most of the film explaining this world to us and the many factions that operate within it. The main focus on both sides of the battle is Durotan (Toby Kebbell), an orc chieftain with a pregnant partner, and Anduin Lothar (Travis Fimmel), a stock warrior-type with a charisma vacuum.

Durotan is under the command of warlock Gul'dan (Daniel Wu), who has already sucked the life out of one world using a dangerous magic called 'fel' and has used sorcery to open a portal into the next world, Azeroth. Lothar, observing the devastation caused by one of their attacks, comes across mage Khadgar (Ben Schnetzer), who wants to bring the traces of fel to the attention of Guardian Medivh (Ben Foster) and the king Llane Wrynn (Dominic Cooper). When an orc scouting party are beaten by Lothar and his fellow humans, they capture half-orc slave Garona (Paula Patton) and send Durotan back to the hoard defeated. However, seeing the devastation Gul'dan is causing to the land and his dismissal of honourable orc tradition, Durotan secretly plans to team up with the humans to defeat the evil tyrant and free his people.

I actually quite enjoyed the opening 30 minutes of Warcraft. Unhappy with portraying yet another man vs. evil orcs story, Jones' decision to give them both a voice is a breathe of fresh air. But this thoughtful approach quickly gives away to a textbook of cliches, from the humble warrior with a great destiny to the annoying young sidekick who just may be the one to save them all. And don't expect a complete film, as the 'Beginning' in the title means exactly that. Clearly the film-makers were banking on squeezing a trilogy out of this, and don't bother to give us an actual conclusion that would make us want to see a next instalment. With daft names that anyone unfamiliar with the world of Azeroth won't remember, you'll be too busy trying to figure out what's going on to care about many of the characters, with only Kebbell - delivering another impressive motion-capture performance - and Foster getting through it with their reputation in tact. And so the search for a decent video game adaptation goes on.


Directed by: Duncan Jones
Starring: Travis Fimmel, Paula Patton, Ben Foster, Dominic Cooper, Toby Kebbell, Ben Schnetzer, Daniel Wu, Ruth Negga
Country: China/Canada/Japan/USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,037: 'Hail, Caesar!' (2016)

When a film-maker builds up such a formidable body of work, it's all the more crushing when their next project falls somewhat flat. The Coen brothers Joel and Ethan have been churning out genre-bending masterpieces ever since 1984 with Blood Simple, and maintained a healthy independent spirit until they were eventually noticed by mainstream Hollywood with 1996's Fargo. Ever since, despite still serving up great work such as No Country for Old Men (2007) and Inside Llewyn Davis (2013), their filmography has been occasionally blighted by bewildering misfires such as the double-whammy of Intolerable Cruelty (2003) and The Ladykillers (2004). Sadly, they've done it again with Hail, Caesar!.

It's obvious that the Coens hold a keen interest in the old Hollywood system of the 1940's and 50's. They were satirising the world they view with a certain curiosity and perhaps a little disdain back in 1991 with the outstanding Barton Fink. Yet while that film portrayed a bleak, subdued world full of madness and loneliness as John Turturro's titular script-writer struggled with his work and his own demons, Hail, Caesar! is the glitzy, garish world of big-budget biblical epics and movie stars with everything to hide. Studio head Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin) is the man to try and hold it all together, from having to shield his actors' shady pasts from pesky twin journalists Thora and Thessaly Thacker (both Tilda Swinton) to handling an organisation of academic-type communists who have kidnapped his biggest star Baird Whitlock (George Clooney).

Working almost like a series of loosely-connected vignettes, the Coens also weave numerous sub-plots into the mix. Mannix must also deal with the issue that one of his leading ladies, DeeAnna Moran (Scarlett Johnansson) is unmarried but with child and can no longer fit into her mermaid costume. Singing cowboy actor Hobie Doyle (Alden Ehrenreich), a pretty face more accustomed to strumming the guitar and riding horseback, is thrown into a drama role at the last minute, much to the frustration of sophisticated director Laurence Laurentz (Ralph Fiennes). There are smaller roles also for Channing Tatum, Frances McDormand and Jonah Hill in what is an unnecessarily bulky ensemble that the Coens struggle to keep a grasp of. With no real sense of direction, Hail, Caesar! often feels like a collection of clips from separate, better movies.

Despite the narrative flaws, there's still plenty to savour. Those distinctly 'Coen-eque' moments are peppered throughout, with Hobie's awkward first day on set and Channing Tatum's musical tap-dance being particular standouts. Although Brolin excels and Clooney makes for a very convincing wimp, Ehrenreich is the one who steals the movie as the extremely likeable dimwit who may actually be the only one paying attention. He demonstrates great comic timing and all the charm of the western idols his character is paying homage to, and he seems the perfect fit for a young Han Solo in Disney's as-yet untitled origin story. The film may have even worked better as a whole with Hobie as the lead and doing away with several side-stories. Instead, it is an unfocused splurge of good ideas rather toothlessly executed but wonderfully performed. Definitely lower-league Coen.


Directed by: Ethan Coen, Joel Coen
Starring: Josh Brolin, George Clooney, Alden Ehrenreich, Ralph Fiennes, Scarlett Johansson, Tilda Swinton, Channing Tatum, Frances McDormand, Jonah Hill
Country: UK/USA/Japan

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,024: 'Versus' (2000)

Ryuhei Kitamura's hyperactive video-game-brought-to-life Versus has a huge cult following and is absolutely adored by its dedicated fans, so I'll say state straight off the bat that I loathed almost every second of its exhausting 120-minute running-time. The film is chocked full of the kind of hyper-kinetic camerawork doing 360 degree spins around its leather jacket-wearing characters, who frequently pout and brood in an attempt to look cool, that cinema was swamped with in the wake of the huge success of The Matrix (1999), which itself was heavily inspired by Japanese cinema. But Versus has little grip on its muddled mythology, and the result is a gory, tiresome mess.

The story informs us that their are 666 portals on Earth that connect this world to the 'other side', with the 444th portal located in the Forest of Resurrection in Japan. Centuries ago, a lone samurai battles a few shuffling zombies before taking on a powerful priest who, with minimal effort, kills him. In the present day, two escaped convicts arrive at the Forest to wait for a gang of Yakuza who will take them to safety. One of the prisoners, #KSC2-303 (Tak Sakaguchi), becomes immediately suspicious of the Yakuza's intentions when they arrive holding a kidnapped girl (Chieko Misaka). The prisoner kills one of the Yakuza, who immediately comes back to life as a zombie, and flees in the forest, taking the girl with him.

There is no doubting that Versus is occasionally a treat for the eyes, with the editing in particular impressing during the numerous fight scenes. But the fights come one after the other, quickly becoming tedious especially since every battle is introduced by the characters posing while the camera swirls around them for what seems like an eternity. It doesn't help that all of the Yakuza are the type of preening morons seen in a thousand other films, strutting around in sunglasses and awful flashy suits and failing to pose any kind of real threat. The protagonist is also difficult to like - a generic bad-ass played unconvincingly by Sakaguchi, who seems to enjoy frequently knocking out the girl he has rescued as he fights the bad guys. It's meant to be darkly humorous, but instead feels simply misogynistic. At 2 hours, it's a headache-inducing struggle to get through, and is recommended only for hardcore fans of cult Japanese cinema.


Directed by: Ryûhei Kitamura
Starring: Tak Sakaguchi, Hideo Sakaki, Chieko Misaka, Kenji Matsuda
Country: Japan

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #985: 'Samurai Rebellion' (1967)

In Masaki Kobayashi's Samurai Rebellion, Toshiro plays a skilled swordsman named Isaburo, a silent type who places honour and family above everything else. In many ways, Isaburo is like the humble American cowboy of old, and the Japanese samurai movies themselves share many of the same qualities of the Western - an almost mythical historical setting where good battles bad, albeit often on a larger scale. Yet the samurai movies seem infinitely more complex beneath the surface, satirising a time where feudal lords reigned over vast areas of land and the common-folk and nobles were kept in line by social rigidity.

Isaburo has lived most of his life by this code. Having suffered in silence following years being henpecked by his wife who he married on the order of his daimyo, he has nonetheless proven himself to be the greatest swordsman in the land, winning the respect of his superiors in the process. It is because of this reputation that his son Yogoro (Go Kato) is chosen as the husband for their lords ex-concubine Lady Ichi (Yoko Tsukasa), who had previously given birth to a potential heir but now banished from her lords castle after disgracing herself. Isaburo reluctantly accepts the proposal and the marriage surprisingly turns out to be a loving one. But when his heir dies unexpectedly and Ichi's child moves next in line, the lord demands that Ichi be returned to the castle. Yogoro refuses and, moved by their true love, Isaburo takes a stand next to his son.

Even when they aren't inspired by the Bard, these types of movies always have a Shakespearian quality. As all the pieces are carefully moved into place for the final showdown, Samurai Rebellion builds towards inevitable Greek tragedy. There are no huge Kurosawa-esque battles here, but plenty of inner turmoil as Isaburo wrestles with obeying his liberty-taking ruler and standing for what he knows is right. After years of tending to his clans armoury (this is set during the peaceful Edo period), Isaburo gleefully cries out that he has never felt so alive. The finale is a bloody set-piece that demonstrates Mifune's natural skill with a blade as Isaburo lets loose, and is the perfect ending to a film built on hushed glances and political manoeuvring. One of the finest examples of its genre.


Directed by: Masaki Kobayashi
Starring: Toshirô Mifune, Yôko Tsukasa, Gô Katô, Tatsuyoshi Ehara
Country: Japan

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #902: 'Fast & Furious 7' (2015)

Pieced back together in the wake of Paul Walker's tragic death in an automobile accident in 2013, the seventh instalment of the Fast & Furious franchise comes with a morbid sense of curiosity. Just how much of the original movie remains, and how will long-serving series advocate Vin Diesel and newcomer director James Wan deal with the fate of Walker's character Brian O'Connor? Thankfully, anyone trying to spot the CGI trickery and attempting to tell Walker from either of his stand-in real-life brothers will be disappointed (although there are some questionable camera angles), and the climactic send-off could not have been more moving.

Fast & Furious 7's (or simply Furious 7 given its alternate title) problems lie elsewhere. Whether it be the cast, the running time, the plot, or the sheer amount of carnage played out on screen, the movie is as bloated as Dwayne Johnson's neck. We have finally caught up to the events of the third instalment, Tokyo Drift (2003), and the gang of loveable ex-cons, ex-cops and gear-heads are drawn out of retirement by the extremely pissed British special forces assassin Deckard Shaw (Jason Statham), who happens to be the older brother of the baddie from the sixth film Owen Shaw (Luke Evans) and is hell-bent on revenge. Sadly, as a straight-forward revenge story is no longer enough to satisfy the masses, Dominic Toretto (Diesel) and his crew are also tasked by a shady government agent dubbed Mr. Nobody (Kurt Russell) to track down God's Eye, an omniscient piece of spy software.

The franchise is now so removed from its original premise of an undercover cop trying to bust a gang of hijackers, that the sight of Dwayne Johnson's oiled and impossibly ripped cop Hobbs firing a huge Gatling gun at a helicopter in the streets during the film's climax will come as no surprise. Characters have died and come back to life, and now display martial arts skills so refined that they can take down the likes of Rhonda Rousey and Tony Jaa in a fist-fight. They are now superheroes, capable of cracking their necks and shaking off a wrench-blow to the head. The preposterousness of it all means that the film-makers are now simply looking to make things bigger than they were last time rather than taking the time of building tension or making things coherent.

So, only two set-pieces really get the adrenaline going - one involving Brian escaping from a coach dangling over the edge of a cliff, and the face-off between the bald pit-bulls Diesel and Statham, as the two go at each other with bits of car wreckage. The film is at its best in it's quieter moments, where comedy-relief characters Roman (Tyrese Gibson) and Tej (Ludacris) squabble over the attentions of super-hacker Ramsey (Nathalie Emmanuel), and Dom and his wife Letty (Michelle Rodriguez), still suffering from amnesia, try to piece together their relationship (though Dom ramming the idea of family being the most important thing down our throats is getting a bit old). Despite it's gaping flaws, there's still something oddly addictive about this series and I'm eager to see if even more sequels will come. and the loving tribute to Walker at the end will bring a tear to the eye of even the most hardened petrol head.


Directed by: James Wan
Starring: Vin Diesel, Paul Walker, Jason Statham, Michelle Rodriguez, Jordana Brewster, Tyrese Gibson, Ludacris, Dwayne Johnson, Kurt Russell, Nathalie Emmanuel
Country: USA/Japan

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #887: 'Blind Woman's Curse' (1970)

The dragon-tattooed leader of the Tachibana Yakuza gang, Akemi (Lady Snowblood's Meiko Kaji) tries to avenge the death of her father in a rain-drenched showdown, only when she is about to deal the final death blow, she slashes at the eyes of the rival's boss younger sister, rendering her blind while a mysterious black cat laps up her blood. Akemi spends three years in jail before returning to the head of the Tachibana clan, where she intends to stop the violence that is causing her city to bleed and live out her days in peace. With the help of a Tachibana turncloak, a rival gang headed by Dobashi (Toru Abe) starts to invade Akemi's territory, planting drugs in their stalls and fighting them in the streets.

Dobashi finds some unexpected help with the arrival of a blind female swordsman, Aiko (Hoki Tokuda), the woman from the opening scene who is seeking vengeance. It's here that the film starts to get seriously weird. Working as a knife-thrower at a carnival show, Aiko is accompanied by two assistants, a grotesque hunchback with a fetish for decapitation, and the black cat that Akemi believed put a curse upon her for mutilating an innocent. Soon enough, Akemi's gang are turning up dead, often with their dragon tattoo flayed from their back. Less of a threat and providing most of the film's comic relief is another gang boss permanently adorned in a thong and cursed with foul-smelling body odour.

Blind Woman's Curse's mix of sword opera, Yakuza gangster movie, horror and surrealism is an unbalanced and occasionally frustrating concoction. If the story wasn't out-there enough, Kaji's disappointingly limited screen-time means that there is little holding everything together. The supernatural elements occur so sporadically that they seem out of place, but thanks to cinematographer Shigeru Kitaizumi, are beautiful to behold. The carnival scene is a montage of macabre and vibrant colours, with strange dancing and avant-garde plays from it's performers, and the climactic showdown between Akemi and Aiko plays out against a lavish painted backdrop of spiralling clouds. It's completely nonsensical, but it's an experience like no other.


Directed by: Teruo Ishii
Starring: Meiko Kaji, Hoki Tokuda, Makoto Satô, Hideo Sunazuka
Country: Japan

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #881: 'Transformers: The Movie' (1986)

I was enticed into watching Transformers: The Movie after watching an episode of the surprisingly funny The Goldbergs, currently airing for the first time in the UK. In the episode, the physically underdeveloped nerd of the family watches in awe as the movie version of his favourite weekend cartoon plays out across the cinema screen. His face soon turns to sheer horror when his beloved heroes are routinely blown away by the evil Decepticons, and I was immediately transported back in time. Not only does the bespectacled Adam Goldberg (played by Sean Giambrone) remind me of my older brother, but I instantly recalled my own horror at seeing the likes of Ratchet, Ironhide and Prowl being casually blown to pieces.

Your enjoyment of Transformers: The Movie really depends on whether you roll your eyes or clap your hands like a child at the sound of un-ironic 80's cheese blaring over sketchy animation of giant robots. No will claim that this is a work of high art or even narratively consistent, but if you're even remotely invested in the ensemble of Autobots, the ensuing blood-bath (oil-bath?) will still no doubt be shocking. Characters are dismembered, decapitated and shot execution-style. Casual viewers or newcomers may have trouble distinguishing one Transformer from the next (something that the live-action Michael Bay movies struggle with), but the relentless carnage at least makes for a refreshing experience to the usual child-friendly fare.

It also has Unicron, the big bad guy who is so huge he transforms into a planet. Voiced by Orson Welles in one of his last feature films, his operatic, ham-fisted growl combined with that opening tune still has the ability to give me chills. While Unicron commits planetary genocide in the opening moments, Optimus Prime (Peter Cullen) plans an all-out assault on the Decepticons. Prime's opposite number Megatron (Frank Welker) hears of the plans and attacks first, leaving the Autobots scattered and on the defensive. Following an attack on Autobot City, the Autbots flee with Megatron wounded and blasted into outer space. But Unicron wants the Matrix, a talisman of great power currently in the hands of Autobot Ultra Magnus (Robert Stack), and so re-creates Megatron as Galvatron (Leonard Nimoy) to recover it.

The narrative consists of little more than one action scene after the next, full of explosions, gun-play, and fan-favourites the Dinobots cracking-wise. While these moments are generally entertaining and lovingly realised, they soon become quite tiresome. When good guy Hot Rod (Judd Nelson) lands on planet Junk and is attacked by the motorcycle-riding natives led by Wreck-Gar (Eric Idle), I just longed for some of them to sit down and have a conversation. This leads to a disappointingly underwhelming climax as Hot Rod, Galvatron and Unicron finally face-off. The animation is rather jittery but incredibly stylish, in a style seemingly lost with modern-day cartoons. I may be nit-picking, but it's only because I believe that Transformers: The Movie deserves to be taken seriously, and although it's far from perfect, it will always retain a place in the hearts of us children of the 80's.


Directed by: Nelson Shin
Voices: Judd Nelson, Peter Cullen, Frank Welker, Leonard Nimoy, Orson Welles, Eric Idle
Country: USA/Japan

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie