Review #1,445: 'Bohemian Rhapsody' (2018)

Bohemian Rhapsody started out life way back in 2010, with Sacha Baron Cohen set to star as Queen's hypnotic frontman Freddie Mercury. With band members Brian May and Roger Taylor heavily involved in the development, Baron Cohen eventually left, citing creative differences with the way they wished to approach the story as the main reason for his departure. The years went by, and in 2017, the wheels were well and truly in motion with Bryan Singer in the director's chair and Rami Malek in the lead role. The production was famously dogged with problems, and when Singer was eventually fired for unprofessional behaviour (reports say he was frequently disruptive on set, even failing to turn up for three days straight), it felt like the film would never see the light of day. But Dexter Fletcher filled the vacant director's chair and Bohemian Rhapsody was released to huge box-office numbers, and recently received Academy Award nominations for Best Picture and Best Actor, amongst others.

Remarkably, despite the film's difficult production, there's no sign of patchwork or a clash of directorial styles. Bohemian Rhapsody actually has much greater problems, and while anybody looking for an easily-digestible Queen sing-a-long with find much to love here, anybody hoping for a deeper re-telling of one of the music's most enigmatic figures with likely be baffled at the film's eagerness to share the credit and Wikipedia-entry approach to story-telling. We briefly get to see Mercury before he took to the stage, working as a baggage-handler at Heathrow while his parents worry about his lack of academic ambition. His experience as a young immigrant is summarised by a single racial slur, and the film isn't too concerned with exploring this any further. Perhaps screenwriter Anthony McCarten (who wrote last year's similarly formulaic Oscar-baiter Darkest Hour) felt like this would be too much of a drag for the audience, so he quickly moves to Mercury introducing himself to Smile guitarist Brian May (Gwilym Lee) and drummer Roger Taylor (Ben Hardy), coincidentally mere seconds after the band loses its lead singer.

A few montages later and the band now known as Queen (bassist John Deacon (Joseph Mazzello) completes the group) are signed up by manager John Reid (Aidan Gillen) and land a contract with EMI Records. The characters act and talk like they already know how the story turns out, and the film only manages to scratch beneath the surface when dealing with Mercury's relationship with love-of-his-life Mary Austin (Lucy Boynton) and her gradual realisation of his sexuality. The rest consists of band squabbles that always seem to conclude with the writing of a hit song, rock movie cliches like the alcohol-fuelled parties and accelerating ego, and cartoon supporting characters (Mike Myers' meta appearance as EMI executive Ray Foster spectacularly misses the mark). By aiming for 12A/PG-13 certificate, Mercury's story is oddly sexless. For a man that radiated sex and sexiness with every air-punch and pout, the lack of raunchiness adds an unwelcome TV-movie quality. It only really comes alive when Malik is allowed to do his thing on stage, climaxing with an extended Live Aid performance that will have you singing along and waving your arms. It's a great impression by Malik, if hardly a great performance, and it helps reminds us of how great Queen really were and how timeless their sound is. Bohemian Rhapsody has certainly made me a bigger Queen fan, but this isn't the biopic the band deserve. That being said, I haven't come across a single person that agrees with me, so what do I know?


Directed by: Bryan Singer
Starring: Rami Malek, Lucy Boynton, Gwilym Lee, Ben Hardy, Joseph Mazzello, Aidan Gillen, Allen Leech, Tom Hollander, Mike Myers
Country: UK/USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,403: 'Man with a Movie Camera' (1929)

David Abelvich Kaufman was born on January 2nd, 1896 in Bialystok, Ukraine, and came of age during the Russian Revolution, joining the movement headed by Lenin and Trotsky that would eventually overthrow the Russian Republic. At some point during this time, Kaufman changed his name to Denis Arkadievich to avoid the persecution of Ukranian Jews. He studied music and medicine until he found his true calling in the arts, writing essays on Futurism and French avant-garde and developing a keen interest in cinema, something he viewed with both curiosity and frustration, calling out traditional, sentimental cinema as "leprous". Learning his trade developing newsreels for Cinema Week and changing his name once again to Dziga Vertov, the filmmaker set out to develop something nobody had ever seen before: a film without narrative, characters or dialogue.

Man with a Movie Camera, released in 1929, did away with traditional storytelling techniques to the point that no story would be told at all, at least not in the way that audiences were - and still are - accustomed to. Vertov would spend over 3 years on the film, shooting in Soviet cities Moscow, Kharkiv, Kiev and Odessa to capture the hustle-and-bustle of everyday life, from faces on the street to the labourers keeping the cities in motion. But this is no ordinary documentary, and to call it a documentary at all is somewhat misleading. Vertov and his group, the kinoks, were rooted firmly in modernism and Marxist ideologies, and Man with a Movie Camera aimed to push the limits of what could be achieved with a camera and clever editing. What may sound like a dour experiment for the academics is actually incredibly entertaining, with Vertov having plenty of fun playing with his toys. After a short burst of intertitles, we see an audience arrive for a screening, their seats magically lowering themselves down before the film begins. Later, we see a woman editing a scene we've just watched.

It's a film being made before our very eyes, and Vertov even manages to make you feel part of the process. Not only do we have the pleasure of some dazzling, innovative camerawork, but we also get to see how such a shot was achieved. The only 'character' of the film is the man with a movie camera, played by Vertov's brother and cinematographer Mikhail Kaufman. We see him scaling great heights and perched on the side of a moving car, or lounging in the shallow sea as he shoots a crowd gathered at the beach. The film would pioneer techniques still used to this day, including the likes of double exposure, slow-motion, extreme close-ups, jump cuts, and in one of the most delightful segments, stop-motion animation. With an average shot length of 2 seconds - the same as many blockbusters today - it thunders along like a well-oiled machine, backed by The Alloy Orchestra's rousing score. Everything is constantly in motion, from the trains, trams and factories, to the people going about their business. Vertov juxtaposes life and death, marriage and divorce, happiness and hardship, almost like it's happening simultaneously. It's a head-spinning experience that remains one of the most significant moments in cinema history, and to think it was done over 50 years before Godfrey Reggio's Koyaanisqatsi attempted the same.


Directed by: Dziga Vertov
Starring: Mikhail Kaufman
Country: Soviet Union

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,319: 'Dig!' (2004)

The fickle nature of the music industry is well known. Most bands will try and flounder with a whimper; true visionaries will fail to find an audience or be deemed as too great a risk by the corporate machine; and the pretty but talent-free will strike it rich with one instantly forgettable tune after another. It's been documented in film before, but never in such brutal, in-your-face detail as Ondi Timoner's documentary Dig!. The cameras followed bands The Dandy Warhols and The Brian Jonestown Massacre for seven years, covering their friendship during the bright-eyed, let's-change-the-world beginnings to the bitter rivalry that formed between them as one made it big and the other struggled in infamy.

Both bands wanted to start a music revolution - one that would see artists take back control from the industry heads who ultimately lacked vision - by refusing to sell out. The Dandy Warhols' professionalism and willingness to bend as long as it avoided breaking meant that their star rose with increasing speed, before Bohemian Like You was snapped up by a mobile phone company and they became an overnight sensation, particularly here in the UK. This savviness is mistaken for bending over by BJM frontman Anton Newcombe, and soon Dandy lead singer Courtney Taylor-Taylor is receiving strange packages containing shotgun cartridges. Meanwhile, Newcombe's increasingly threatening behaviour towards everyone around him sees his band often struggle to make it through a set without brawling on stage. BJM were descending quickly from the next big thing to a circus sideshow.

Despite the chaos on screen, Timoner never loses sight of Newcombe's raw talent. His actions can be blamed on mental illness, egomania or copious amount of heroin, but he is the real deal, pouring everything into his work and banging out records at a miraculous rate (they released three albums in 1996 alone). The genius and madness meld together to create an image of a man worn down by his philosophy, someone who preached love but only ever gave any to himself. His descent is both tragic and funny, and every fight, argument and storm-out is captured by Timoner's ever-present camera. For a film ultimately echoing Newcombe's views on a corporate mechanism more interested in money than artistry, Dig! somehow forgets the music itself. The odd bar or snippet can be heard here and there, but it's usually interrupted by some act of self-destruction or other. Ultimately however, Dig! is a fascinating study of the idea of selling-out and a must-see for music fans, serving as a cautionary tale for anyone considering starting a band.


Directed by: Ondi Timoner
Starring: Anton Newcombe, Courtney Taylor-Taylor, Joel Gion, Matt Hollywood
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,315: 'Coco' (2017)

With Coco, Pixar reminds us once again why they are the creme-de-la-creme when it comes to American animation, with another emotionally resonant and visually breathtaking picture that will have both adults and children sobbing into their sleeves. This is their finest work since game-changer Inside Out in 2015, again tackling complex themes most studios would shy away from exposing their young audience to, and doing so with a technical flourish and completely free from the white-washing so common in American films dealing with a culture and folklore from overseas. I'm not ashamed to admit that I wept like a baby at Coco, the first time I had done so since, again, Inside Out.

Despite the title, our protagonist is Miguel (Anthony Gonzalez), a 12 year-old wannabe musician who seems destined to follow his elders into the family shoe-making business. 96 years earlier, Miguel's great-great-grandmother forbid the sound of music in their house when her song-writing husband left town in search of his dreams. As a result, Miguel is forced to teach himself guitar and worship his idol Ernest de la Cruz, a famous crooner who was killed in an unfortunate on-set accident, in secret. His grandmother Abuelita (Renee Victor) is keen to enforce the rule, literally shoeing away a mariachi who asks Miguel to play for him. His refusal to follow his family's ban leads to an argument and a supernatural encounter, after which Miguel can only communicate with those from the other side who have crossed over to take part in the Day of the Dead celebrations.

Miguel's only hope of returning to his family before he fades away himself is with a magical marigold petal willingly handed to him by an ancestor. It doesn't take long to locate great-great-grandmother Mama Imelda (Alanna Ubach) and some other faces familiar from photographs, but the matriarch will only allow him to return if he promises to give up music forever. With the help of lovable scoundrel Hector (Gael Garcia Bernal) and a large-tongued stray dog, Miguel journeys across the Land of the Dead in search of the musician ancestor his family have been banished from mentioning. with only an old photograph with the face torn away for help. But could it be that Miguel was always destined to follow his muse, and that Ernest de la Cruz himself, who came from the very same town, may hold all the answers?

Pixar take every opportunity to illuminate the screen once we cross over with Miguel into the bright, almost psychedelic land of his ancestors, which is protected by dazzling alebrijes and connects itself to our world by a glowing marigold petal bridge. Yet beneath the surface there is a richly textured script by Adrian Molina and Matthew Aldrich, complete with fully realised characters, fluid storytelling and heavily-researched attention to detail. Ana Ofelia Murguia as the titular Mama Coco does some stellar voice work, easing us into those lip-quivering final scenes assisted by Pixar's wonderful animation, as does Benjamin Bratt as the self-admiring de la Cruz, a man who does well for himself in a world in which you can only exist whilst you are remembered on the other side. And this being Disney, it wouldn't be complete without a signature song, and Remember Me, written by married team Kirsty Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez of Let It Go fame, is another winner. The song might be stuck in your head for days, but the emotional impact of this tale of family, music and death will last much, much longer.


Directed by: Lee Unkrich
Voices: Anthony Gonzalez, Gael García Bernal, Benjamin Bratt, Alanna Ubach, Renee Victor
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,256: '9 Songs' (2004)

Michael Winterbottom is one of the most important and challenging filmmakers around. Over the past couple of decades, he has directed a prolific stream of interesting features across a variety of genres, refusing to settle on a particular style and seemingly always working on a minuscule budget. But no filmmaker is immune to producing a stinker, and after a successful 2002 which saw the release of the excellent double-header of 24 Hour Party People and In This World, Winterbottom hit a grey patch with Code 46 and 9 Songs. He would push the boundaries of what could be tolerated in terms of cinematic violence in 2010 with the divisive The Killer Inside Me, but 6 years earlier he would test the BBFC's waters with 9 Songs, a film that may still be the most sexually explicit film ever to be released in British theatres.

It tells the story of two lovers: Matt (Kieran O'Brien), a British scientist, and Lisa (Margo Stilley), an American exchange student. As the film opens, the couple have broken up and Matt is heading to Antarctica to conduct research and reflect on their doomed relationship. He remembers their time together through the sex they had, and they had a lot of it. 9 Songs quickly falls into a pattern: Sex scene, concert scene, and then a trip back to desolate mountains of Antarctica. They met at Brixton Academy and share a love of live music, so between the sex we get to experience the various gigs they go to - the 9 songs of the title - shot guerrilla-style from afar over the heads of the audience, which is pretty much how most of us experience a concert. The sex is passionate, spontaneous and exciting, but love is much harder. As it becomes clear to both of them that they won't be together forever, they employ blindfolds and handcuffs to spice things up, but nothing can mask the distance opening between them.

Winterbottom doesn't shy away from explicitness. We get to see full penetration, oral sex and even a money shot - pretty much everything you would expect from a cheeky browse on Pornhub. But what separates 9 Songs from pornography is the complete lack of sensationalism. There is absolutely nothing arousing about the sex, despite the attractiveness of the two leads, and this is likely what convinced the BBFC to pass it uncut (it's 'art'). The problem with 9 Songs is that the idea is infinitely more interesting than the execution. This is an incredibly dull and repetitive film, made all the more of a chore to sit through by the two thinly-realised and rather annoying characters at the forefront. Winterbottom seems to be trying to say something profound by occasionally switching the action to the South Pole, but it comes across as allegory on the level of a student-film. The concert footage is filmed with the same grungy energy as 24 Hour Party People - one of my favourite Winterbottom films - so there's some relief to be found in performances by the likes of Primal Scream, Franz Ferdinand and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, if you're into that sort of thing.


Directed by: Michael Winterbottom
Starring: Kieran O'Brien, Margo Stilley
Country: UK

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,250: 'Baby Driver' (2017)

It feels like decades have passed since British writer/director Edgar Wright pulled away from Marvel's Ant-Man, apparently in fear of the studio's insistence on having the action take place within their Cinematic Universe and jeopardising his singular vision in the process. And it feels even longer since the underwhelming closure to the 'Cornetto Trilogy', 2013's The World's End, graced the big screen. But Wright has clearly been making the most of his spare time, finally completing the script for a movie that has been clattering around his head for over 20 years (he had the idea back in 1994). Drawing inspiration from a line in Simon & Garfunkel's song Baby Driver ("They call me baby driver, and once upon a pair of wheels," and a collection of his favourite petrol-head movies, he has delivered what is by far his most accomplished work to date.

Shortly before the release of Baby Driver, Wright hosted a film festival entitled 'Car Car Land' - a collection of his favourite car chase movies, featuring everything from William Friedkin's The French Connection to Walter Hill's The Driver. It has been quite rightly said that great cinematic action feels like a dance - elegant, brutal, and pieced together with delicate invention and skill. It is fitting that Wright named his festival after one of the finest musicals of recent times, La La Land. He has also taken this theory quite literally with Baby Driver, a movie as much at home with dazzling musical numbers as it is with high-speed pursuits and gun-fire, combining them beautifully without a hint of smugness. Our hero the getaway driver times his entire life to the beat ever-blasting into his ears from his loaded collection of iPods. A menial task such as making a sandwich becomes a toe-tapping dance number.

His name is Baby ("B-A-B-Y, Baby," as he confirms to practically everybody he meets), and his hipster blend of skinny jeans and sunglasses may have been grating without Ansel Elgort. Like Channing Tatum, his physicality and grace prevents you from taking your eyes off him once he starts to move, and cinematographer Bill Pope make sure to capture these moments in all their glory (including one terrific tracking shot at the start). Baby needs his music to block out the tinnitus constantly ringing in his ears, but also to remind him of the music-loving mother he lost in the very accident that caused his affliction. His short life has been spent in the debt of gangster Doc (Kevin Spacey), who employs the youngster's superhuman skills behind the wheel as a getaway driver for his ever-changing roster of low-life bank robbers. Each of them eye Baby with both curiosity and suspicion, when all he wants to do is pay off what he owes and leave town with adorable waitress Debora (Lily James). But one last job is never one last job.

Opening with a bank job that will leave you stunned at both the editing and choreography (no CGI is used), there's an early sense that Wight may have blown his load too early. But this only kicks off two hours in the hands of a craftsman who truly understand the mechanics of cinema. Not just action cinema, but musical and dramatic, and the film offers its fair share of belly laughs too. It's as much of an exaggerated world as Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, but contains itself in its own little world. The characters are larger-than-life but tangible, incredibly brought to life by the likes of Jamie Foxx, Jon Hamm, Eiza Gonzalez and Jon Bernthal. There's an almost ever-present soundtrack, with the characters speaking and moving in sync with the rhythm, which lend the film a unique energy. When the music stops and the soundtrack screeches to reflect Baby's tinnitus, we long to be thrown straight back into Wright's fantasy world. The car chases, the love story, the testosterone-fuelled exchanges - there's nothing new here, but Edgar Wright knows this. Baby Driver is so swaggeringly confident and stylishly hypnotic that it becomes a genre film like no other, causing most other action movies to hang their heads in shame.


Directed by: Edgar Wright
Starring: Ansel Elgort, Kevin Spacey, Lily James, Jamie Foxx, Jon Hamm, Eiza González, Jon Bernthal
Country: UK/USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,241: 'Hounddog' (2007)

It has been said that when it comes to cinema, there is no such thing as bad publicity. Controversy can spread word-of-mouth and natural curiosity faster than most ad campaigns, propelling a film that may have flown under most people's radar to surprise success and welcome notoriety. This isn't always the case however, as Deborah Kampmeier's Hounddog proves. Following a screening at the Sundance Film Festival, the film faced protests for a scene in which Dakota Fanning's character is raped (she was 12 at the time of filming). Hounddog went onto to be a critical and box-office failure, and has since faded into obscurity. In fact, the gut-wrenching power of the hard-to-watch rape scene and the performance of Fanning are the only good things to be said about this slow-moving and cliche-ridden drama.

It's the late 1950's. Lewellen (Fanning) is a precocious young girl living in rural Alabama with her deadbeat dad (David Morse), and next door to her religious disciplinarian grandmother (Piper Laurie). She spends most of her spare time performing awful renditions of her favourite Elvis Presley songs, or down at the local watering hole with her friend Buddy (Cody Hanford). The two share the odd kiss and inspect each other's private parts with fascination. We're told that Daddy is abusive, and clearly gets violent with his new girlfriend (listed as 'Stranger Lady' in the credits and played by Robin Wright). However, he is struck by lightning one night and reduced to a simpleton, becoming reliant on his tom-boy daughter and terrified she will abandon him. Lewellen's main concern is nabbing tickets for Elvis's visit to town, until a horrific attack turns her world upside down.

In an attempt to capture Lewellen's poverty and the general barrenness of the Deep South setting, Kampmeier has pasted together images of rusty, decrepit vehicles parked on overgrown lawns and damp, sweaty interiors, combined with the constant chirping of crickets. It's beautifully filmed, but this kind of imagery has been used countless times before. It often feels like a foreigner's idea of Alabama, all string vests, small-town ignorance and God-fearing. You wait for the story to kick into gear, but it never does. Instead, the film seems to revel in putting Lewellen through one horrible experience after another, with seemingly no point. She seeks guidance from local snake-catcher Charles (Afemo Omilami), who teaches the girl about the blues which inspired Elvis, and the two share a few scenes in which he comes across as the cliched wise black man. Hounddog is terrible on almost every level, but thank God for Fanning, who even outshines seasoned veterans like Morse and Wright.


Directed by: Deborah Kampmeier
Starring: Dakota Fanning, David Morse, Cody Hanford, Piper Laurie, Robin Wright, Afemo Omilami
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,197: 'The Tales of Hoffmann' (1951)

Michael Powell, the great underappreciated British film director mainly recognised for his work alongside Hungarian Emeric Pressburger, spent most of his early career working towards the perfect marriage of the power of operatic music and the visual splendour of cinema. This can be glimpsed in the masterpieces Black Narcissus (1947), The Red Shoes (1948), and to a certain degree, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1949), but it wasn't until 1951 that he completed his ultimate goal. With The Tales of Hoffmann, an adaptation of Jacques Offenbach's flamboyant opera, Powell and Pressburger achieved what no other film has succeeded in doing since: bringing the opera to life on screen and infusing it with all the colour and vibrancy of cinema. Martin Scorsese, an lifelong admirer of P & P, recently oversaw a 4K remastering of the movie; the perfect medium to take in this lavish picture.

Staying true to the structure of Offenbach's vision, The Tales of Hoffmann comes with a prologue, epilogue, and three central acts all centred around the past loves of man-of-the-world Hoffmann (Robert Rounseville). As a stage performance featuring his current love plays out in the background, Hoffmann tells an eager group of friends of three women he has loved and lost. The first act, which is the brightest and most farcical, sees him duped into loving an automaton called Olympia (played by the beautiful Moira Shearer) by a pair of magical glasses that seemingly bring inanimate objects to life. The second act takes place in a hellish Venice, where an evil magician promises his courtesan Giulietta (Ludmilla Tcherina) expensive jewellery in exchange for her seduction of Hoffmann and the theft of his shadow. In the third and final act, Hoffmann falls for Antonia (Ann Ayars), a soprano suffering from a mysterious illness that forbids her to sing.

The disregard for traditional cinematic narrative structure means that The Tales of Hoffmann is certainly an acquired taste, but there is also nothing else quite like it. Backed by a thumping score from the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra under Sir Thomas Beecham and brought to life with ravishing set and costume design by Hein Heckroth (who was Oscar nominated twice for the film), Hoffmann is a treat for all the senses. It's particularly adored by filmmakers, with Cecil DeMille voicing his admiration for the film, and George A. Romero stating it to be his favourite movie of all time and the reason he wanted to become a director. There are also fine performances throughout, in particular Moira Shearer, who I fell head over heels for in The Red Shoes, and Robert Helpmann, the Child Catcher himself, who plays Hoffmann's nemesis in all the stories. Only Rounseville and Ayars perform their own vocals, but the film is graceful enough to reward the vocalists by a credits sequence that sees both singers and performers take a bow.


Directed by: Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger
Starring: Robert Rounseville, Robert Helpmann, Moira Shearer, Ludmilla Tchérina, Ann Ayars
Country: UK

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,188: 'La La Land' (2016)

There was a time I remember, sometime during the mid-to-late '90s, when the idea of watching a musical was laughable. It was a silly trend that was once popular with the movie-going audience back when cinema was relatively primitive, which saw a kitschy revival in the '70s and '80s with the likes of Grease (1978) and Xanadu (1980), but died a death when the rapid evolution of CGI made anything possible on screen. Then came Moulin Rouge! and its use of modernised classic tunes in 2001, and movie-goers have been in love with the genre again ever since. Its popularity shows no sign of stopping either, and writer/director Damien Chazelle, who made a big impression in 2014 with the excellent Whiplash, has sculpted one of the best musicals of recent times with the Oscar-nominated La La Land, a film that manages to feel both traditional and contemporary.

The film combines two elements clearly dear to Chazelle: The lavish musicals of the 1950s (and to a lesser degree the '40s), and pure jazz. The two wandering souls at the story's centre dream of leaving their mark in their respected fields, but both are in love with the past in industries always looking forward. Actress Mia (Emma Stone) spends time between humiliating and soul-crushing auditions serving coffee near a studio lot, where she occasionally crosses paths with a glamorous star as the rest of the room whisper excitedly. Musician Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) cannot resist ignoring the festive playlist at his restaurant haunt in favour of some improvisation on the piano - much to the annoyance of his boss Bill (J.K. Simmons) - while he dreams of opening his own traditional jazz bar. Sebastian is quick-tempered, neurotic, and plain rude, but Mia pursues him anyway. They fall in love, and express their feelings through impromptu song-and-dance routines.

Chazelle knows the genre inside out, and seems to favour the lavish MGM musicals and the glamorous physicality of the era's stars such as Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Opening with a near one-shot song-and-dance routine, beautifully photographed by Linus Sandgren, it goes on to deliver many dazzling and classical numbers, which are often glorious to behold and backed by a soundtrack of memorable tunes that manage to stay in your head for days afterwards. They are performed admirably by the central pair, who have real chemistry. One of the few saving graces of the Amazing Spider-Man films was the chemistry between Stone and Andrew Garfield, and here she sizzles with Gosling. It's the movie's main strength. Rather than merely go through the motions and familiar tropes, you really want them to be together. You can truly feel their happiness every time they see each other.

La La Land stutters when exploring deeper, more complex themes. The second act sees the two achieve some degree of success, with Mia developing a one-woman show and Sebastian joining up with a fellow musician played by John Legend in a band making waves in the world of jazz. Will Mia ultimately degrade herself in order to make it in a brutal industry that may not deserve her, and how can Sebastian, a hardcore old-schooler, be happy in a flashy group looking to move the genre forward? It seems like a poor excuse to simply tear the couple apart to experience their inevitable rough patch, and doesn't really fully explore the characters' emotional quandaries. But this slight lag doesn't last for very long, and the final moments are simply perfect. One of the great things about Whiplash was that final, heart-pounding moment of physical and spiritual triumph, and La La Land wraps up the story with grace and genuine tugs on the heartstrings. proving itself to be much more than a mere homage.


Directed by: Damien Chazelle
Starring: Ryan Gosling, Emma Stone, John Legend, J.K. Simmons, Rosemarie DeWitt
Country: USA/Hong Kong

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,137: 'Magic Mike XXL' (2015)

After the cult success of Steven Soderbergh's Magic Mike (2012) - a loose adaptation of star Channing Tatum's experiences as a stripper (or male entertainer) early on in his career - it was of little surprise when a follow-up was announced. What made the first movie such a surprising success was the way it mixed the flashy dance moves with genuine character development, making for a touching and oddly sweet experience that also touched on themes such as the economy and the American Dream. For XXL, the focus seems to be solely on giving the audience what they want, and that means more abs, biceps and bulges.

However, this all means a half-arsed story-line that quickly finds a way to get 'Magic' Mike (Tatum) back with his gyrating buddies. The end of the first film saw Mike abandon the life he was never truly happy with and realising his dream of starting his own company selling custom-made furniture. The company is either struggling or about to take off, but it's clear that Mike is still unfulfilled, and when he receives a phone message from Tarzan (Kevin Nash), he is soon enough on the road to a stripper convention with 'Big Dick' Richie (Joe Manganiello), Ken (Matt Bomer), Tito (Adam Rodriguez) and Tobias (Gabriel Inglesias). That's generally it. Magic Mike XXL's main issue is that the story seems to fumble around trying to come up with interesting places to take its characters.

Very much a road movie at heart, the group find themselves encountering new characters along the way. With Cody Horn not returning (her disappearance is rather unconvincingly explained,) the love interest this time around is Zoe (Amber Heard), a gorgeous bohemian-type who doesn't seem to be put of by Mike's distinctly douchebag-y dress sense. There's also Andie MacDowell as a horny Southern lady who, along with her wine-guzzling friends, indulge in a private party. Mike also hooks up with his old friend/lover/colleague Rome (Jada Pinkett Smith), a sort-of stripper madame who hosts a house to entertain the ladies, and whose employees include the smooth-talking Andre (future young Lando Calrissian Donald Glover). There is sadly no return for Matthew McConaughey as Dallas or Alex Pettyfer as The Kid, who have apparently both eloped to Europe chasing a lucrative stripping deal. Gregory Jacobs also replaces Soderbergh as director.

The new characters provide to be little more than a distraction from the meandering plot, which forces Mike and his pals into a few moments of utter tedium. When the film stays with the guys and just allows them to shoot the shit, it's actually very funny, and leads to the best scene of both movies by letting a pilled-up Richie loose on a grumpy-looking gas station clerk. By trying to do more by giving each character their own emotional arc, it actually holds back a film that would be better served giving the audience even more of what they really came for, stripping. Even for a straight male, the dance scenes are electrifying, with the climax delivering an all-out dance-a-thon that allows each character their moment to shine. It made me smile between the dull moments, but this is ultimately forgettable stuff.


Directed by: Gregory Jacobs
Starring: Channing Tatum, Joe Manganiello, Matt Bomer, Amber Heard, Adam Rodriguez, Kevin Nash, Jada Pinkett Smith, Donald Glover, Andie MacDowell
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,134: 'David Brent: Life on the Road' (2016)

13 years after Ricky Gervais' iconic comic creation David Brent bowed out in hilarious style with The Office Christmas special, the now-former manager of Slough's Wernham-Hogg paper merchants returns for one last swansong. Nearly cancelled during its second season due to low ratings, The Office has gone on to be one of Britain's biggest comedy exports, claiming award after award and making stars of writers Gervais and Stephen Merchant. It is one of those rare examples of a series ending precisely when it should and not being dragged out as long as its popularity remained, and this is a belief shared by most of its devout fans.

So, fans were naturally worried when Gervais announced that he would re-visit the "extraordinary, ordinary man" he claimed he had retired for a feature-length movie. With any sitcom-turned-movie, there is the concern that making the leap from a successful 30-minute format to a 90 minute movie that people would be willing to pay to see just won't work. The trend of sending its characters off for a holiday in the hope of generating enough laughs so the audience won't notice the lack of originality rarely pays off, but Gervais, working here without Merchant, makes an effort to dodge cliches and does a decent job in exploring other areas of his goateed alter-ego. Ultimately however, Life on the Road doesn't have the energy or ideas to sustain its running time.

For long periods of the first half, there are enough laughs to keep things ticking over. Brent is now working as a travelling salesman for bathroom supply company Lavichem, but realising he isn't getting any younger, he decides to make one last stab at fame with his band Foregone Conclusion and go on tour. By moving the action from the office to the open road, Gervais has offered Brent the opportunity to offend and embarrass a whole new set of people. His band mates can't stand him, the sound engineer only agrees to tag along when Brent regrettably promises to pay double his normal wage, and his rapper 'protege' Dom (Ben Bailey Smith - normally known by his stage name Doc Brown) hopes to make it on his own. It's soon clear why - songs such as 'Native American' and 'Please Don't Make Fun of the Disableds' leave the audience horrified.

Gervais steps back into the drab suits and trademark goatee with ease, ensuring that the to-camera mugging, nervous chuckle and overbite are all present and correct. He even manages to inspire sympathy for a man who manages to even drop a drunken N-bomb, as we learn of his previous battle with depression and anxiety over loses his treasured job at Wernham-Hogg. But there are long stretches where the film doesn't generate any laughs, and memories of the innovative, landmark comedy series make it seem like watching a once-great sportsman slowly deteriorate with age when they should have retired long ago. The Office already had its perfect ending, so it begs the question as to why Gervais felt the need to don the Brent mask once again. While it hardly tarnishes the legacy, Life on the Road feels like a pointless last hurrah that nobody was asking for.


Directed by: Ricky Gervais
Starring: Ricky Gervais, Ben Bailey Smith, Jo Hartley, Tom Bennett
Country: UK/USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,053: 'Green Room' (2015)

At the time of writing this review, it's been just over a month since the shocking and tragic news of gifted Russian-born actor Anton Yelchin's death in a freak car accident. He left behind a trail of films in his wake, and a few more to come (including his role as Chekov in Justin Lin's Star Trek Beyond), and it's quite astounding just how prolific an actor he was during his short career. One of his final films, released not long before his death, is also one of his best. Writer/director Jeremy Saulnier's follow-up to his critically-acclaimed Blue Ruin (2013) is a stunning exercise in survival horror.

It begins with the Ain't Rights, a punk band on their way to a gig that turns out to be a waste of time. After an uncomfortable social media interview, the band - consisting of Pat (Yelchin), Sam (Alia Shawkat), Reece (Peaky Blinders' Joe Cole) and Tiger (Callum Turner) - are thrown a gig at a dingy bar in small-town Oregon. It's the type of place adorned with Confederate flags and fascist graffiti on the walls, and, in true punk style, the band introduce themselves with a rendition of Dead Kennedy's Nazi Punks Fuck Off. After the gig, the group find themselves locked in a room holding an unlicensed gun after accidentally witnessing a brutal murder. The situation worsens when club owner and neo-Nazi party leader Darcy (Patrick Stewart) turns up to deal with the situation.

The events that follow are pure horror stripped down to the bone, sometimes literally. There's nothing supernatural or indeed unbelievable about the situation, just a group of inept youngsters facing off against a small army of bruising, well-organised skinheads armed with weapons designed to inflict grisly damage and a pack of trained pit-bulls. The violence is ugly and wince-inducing, with the awkwardness of the ones often inflicting the pain only heightening the sense of desperation and utter dread of the situation. The tension is only broken by the ramblings of a somewhat confusing sub-plot, which unravels itself through half-heard mumblings, and this only distracts from the immediacy of the central plot thread.

Saulnier asks quite a lot of his cast, as even the heroes of the story aren't the most likeable bunch. They steal petrol, drink beer, cause trouble - pretty much what you would expect from a real-life young band trying to make a buck. But Yelchin has always been especially skilled at eliciting sympathy from any character he has played. As he and his companion Amber (Imogen Poots) - a close friend of the murdered girl - fight desperately for their lives, you are willing them all the way, rather than becoming frustrated at their ineptitude. Stewart also makes an impression as the quietly menacing skin-head leader, a role played completely against type, and it's a shame he isn't given more to do. The actor said he knew he wanted to take on the role when he was left terrified at home after finishing the script, and no doubt you'll be making sure the doors are locked once the credits role too.


Directed by: Jeremy Saulnier
Starring: Anton Yelchin, Imogen Poots, Alia Shawkat, Patrick Stewart, Joe Cole, Macon Blair
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,015: 'Quadrophenia' (1979)

I knew little to nothing about the 'mods' and 'rockers' of Swinging Sixties London and the fierce rivalry that bristled between them before going into the film, but Quadrophenia, Franc Roddam's film based on The Who's rock opera of the same name, completely immerses the viewer in their world. The images I tend to conjure of this important era in Britain's history is that of The Beatles running from a screaming crowd of ecstatic girls in A Hard Day's Night (1964). While Richard Lester's film has the fortune of being made at the time this movement was thriving, it's light-hearted fare, albeit a terrific one.

Quadrophenia doesn't pull its punches, and portrays the mods, in particular the young, alienated Jimmy (Phil Daniels) in all of their rough-and-tumble, amphetamine-popping glory. Adorned in the latest fashion and riding around London on his customised scooter, Jimmy funds his lifestyle by begrudgingly working as a post room boy for the kind of stiff-upper-lipped types he loathes. Outside of his job, he is a living nightmare for his parents, constantly out all hours listening to rock music with his friends and popping blue uppers to keep him on edge.

He is romantically invested in Steph (Leslie Ash), who is currently involved with another chap, but after he does finally sleep with her, he discovers that the experience didn't have the same lasting effect it did on him. Jimmy also learns that his friend Kevin (Ray Winstone), fresh out of the army, is a rocker and therefore an enemy. A sense of alienation builds inside of the protagonist, with only the sense of belonging within the gang and cheap drugs to help drag him through his depression. It all builds up to a visit to Brighton where, along with super-cool mod Ace Face (Sting), meet up for a huge brawl with a gang of rockers.

Backed by a terrific soundtrack from The Who, Quadrophenia recreates a fashion craze now long-gone, and does so convincingly with a real sense of time and place. Jimmy and his gang are all working-class, slumping through dead-end jobs to fund their lifestyle in spite of their humble upbringings, infusing the film with a sense of social-awareness. The group show no desire whatsoever to fit in the social structure of a society they feel is unfair, with Jimmy in particular feeling left hung out to dry. But the most impressive aspect of the film is the young Phil Daniels as the raging tearaway whose character often treads dangerously close to being plain loathsome. He plays the role with an irresistible charm and swagger that make him entirely sympathetic. An underrated cult gem.


Directed by: Franc Roddam
Starring: Phil Daniels, Leslie Ash, Philip Davis, Mark Wingett, Sting, Ray Winstone
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #977: 'Straight Outta Compton' (2015)

N.W.A.'s seminal 1988 hit Fuck tha Police should now be, as well as a great song, a window into a darker, more brutal past that we can now look back at on in disbelief. Like Billie Holiday's haunting Strange Fruit and Bob Marley's Buffalo Soldier, the record paints an uncomfortable picture of the treatment of black people, specifically, in N.W.A.'s case, the willingness of police officers to beat on any young black teenager that happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sadly, with almost daily reports of police brutality still occurring in America, Fuck tha Police is just as relevant as ever, and F. Gary Gray's Straight Outta Compton - the story of N.W.A. - pulses with the same anger and energy.

Even though it runs at just shy of three hours, Straight Outta Compton is forced to cram in a lot of incident from the ten-year period it covers, but still maintains its attention to detail throughout. Beginning in a Compton brimming with racial and gang tension, a young Andre "Dr. Dre" Young (Corey Hawkins), O'Shea "Ice Cube" Jackson (played by Cube's real-life song, O'Shea Jackson Jr.) and Antoine "DJ Yella" Carraby (Neil Brown Jr.) bring the house down with a performance of Gangsta Gangsta, much to the dislike of the club owner who disapproves of their aggressive style and confrontational lyrics. Seeking money to record, Dre turns to gang members Eric "Eazy-E" Wright (Jason Mitchell) and Lorenzo "MC Ren" Patterson (Aldis Hodge) for a cash injection, and following the release of hit Boyz-N-The-Hood, the Niggaz With Attitude are approached by manager Jerry Heller (Paul Giamatti).

What follows is the familiar biopic formula frothing at the brim with enough in-fighting, doomed business relationships, personal conflict and artistic milestones to fill twenty stand-alone documentaries. But Gray infuses the film with such ferocity and authenticity that its easy to forgive the films misgivings and be utterly enthralled by almost every scene. The live performances especially - and there are many - are utterly thrilling. Bolstered by the sheer raw brilliance of N.W.A.'s music and a terrific ensemble who all share an uncanny resemblance to their real-life counterparts (obviously in Jackson Jr.'s case), the film truly comes alive in these moments, whether it be in the concert hall or the recording studio. When the group defy Detroit police with a literal middle finger and belt out the song they were warned not to play, you feel like standing up and chanting with the crowd as the police swarm the stage.

The first half of Straight Outta Compton is the best, as the gang rise to fame and speak out against police brutality (the beating of Rodney King being the breaking point). Darkness looms and is teased with the presence of ex-con-turned-producer Suge Knight (played a terrifying R. Marcos Taylor) and Cube's increasing unease with Eazy E's blossoming business relationship with Heller. As Knight lays seeds of doubt in Dre's mind, everyone apart from Eazy seems to be getting screwed out of their money. The film strides along with swagger and attitude, with highlights including Eazy's crack deal gone slight awry in the opening scene and a one-shot tour of the band's hotel room as armed strangers come a-knocking.

The film then gives way to some slightly overwrought sentiment and a who's who of the 90's West Coast rappers. Snoop Dogg (Keith Stanfield) and 2Pac (Marcc Rose) show up for no reason whatsoever, and Eazy begins his rapid descent to an early death of AIDS in some not-so-subtle scenes depicting the deterioration of his health . A end credits montage seemingly celebrating the wealth of Dre and Cube as well reminding us of some of the not-so-great things they've done over the years (Dre was responsible for 50 Cent after all) also leaves a bad taste in the mouth. These things stop it from being great, but this is still one of the best movies I've seen this year. It's best to let yourself get swept up in 90's nostalgia, savour the fantastic music (unless you're a rap Nazi), and watch the world only now seen in fuzzy music videos feel alive once again.


Directed by: F. Gary Gray
Starring: O'Shea Jackson Jr., Corey Hawkins, Jason Mitchell, Neil Brown Jr., Aldis Hodge, Paul Giamatti, R. Marcos Taylor
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #968: 'Amy' (2015)

When the news broke on July 23rd 2011 that singer and songwriter Amy Winehouse had been found dead of complications brought on by years of drug and alcohol abuse, there was almost a "told you so" response by the public, or at least the people who I interacted with. People certainly mourned the passing of a truly great artist, but there was an air of inevitability, almost as if this was the natural end to her brief career. Her life played out in front of the tabloids and no doubt played a key part in her sad demise, but Amy, directed by Asif Kapadia of Senna (2010) fame, explores a wealth of home footage previously unseen in an attempt to unravel just what drove the young lady to such self-destruction.

The home footage that has been uncovered is often extremely intimate stuff. We at first meet Amy as a teenager. Pretty, loud and full of life, she and her friends are just lounging about being regular teenagers until Amy suddenly bursts into a rendition of Happy Birthday. The soundtrack then kicks in with her youthful version of Moon River, and it's difficult not to be bowled over by such a soulful voice coming out of the then 19 year-old. As her career begins to pick up, she is asked how she believes she would react to fame. She replies that she doesn't believe she could handle it. Following the release of Frank, her first album, the excessive drug and alcohol intake begins, just as two key male figures re-enter her life.

Kapadia avoids laying the blame on anyone in particular, as the two people who come across the worst in this documentary - her father Mitch Winehouse and husband Blake Fielder-Civil - are heavy participants in the film. It was Fielder-Civil who first introduced Amy to crack, and when her friends gathered around her to try and put a stop to it, her father told her that she didn't need help. This, of course, was the inspiration for the song Rehab. It is at this point, around the half-way mark, that Amy becomes difficult to watch. We all saw the pictures of her bloody and red-eyed at the end of one particularly heavy binge in the newspapers, but its the revelation that Amy told one of her friends everything is boring without drugs during a clean spell that hits home the most.

However, this is not just an extremely sad tale of a talented artists death, Amy also celebrates the music and, in particular, her song-writing ability. During most of the stunning performance footage on show here, her vocals are accompanied by her lyrics written on-screen, which are not only extremely important in helping to understand Amy, but help sculpt the narrative of the film. She is praised as one of the finest jazz singers of all time by Tony Bennett, and it's difficult to disagree. The praise lavished upon her here makes it even more difficult to watch the footage of various comedians mocking the troubled singer. In an age of instant reactions on social media, I guess it has now become socially acceptable to make jokes about a woman in her twenties crippled by mental illness and addition. It's an extremely upsetting story, and when the credits roll it genuinely feels like you have lost a friend.


Directed by: Asif Kapadia
Starring: Amy Winehouse, Mitch Winehouse, Blake Fielder-Civil
Country: UK/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #873: 'Whiplash' (2014)

For a film primarily focused on the relationship between teacher and student at a prestigious music school, Whiplash actually feels like one of the best American thrillers in years. Yes, it is about one young man's struggle for absolute greatness in his field and poses questions about how hard one should push themselves to achieve artistic integrity, but it is the verbal sparring between lead Miles Teller and the scene-stealing J.K. Simmons, and the sight of Teller pounding his drums to dizzying effect while his palms gush with blood, that really causes the heart to race.

Andrew Neiman (Teller) is a first-year jazz drummer attending Shaffer Conservatory, playing as an alternative to core drummer Ryan Connolly (Austin Stowell). When his class is paid a visit by notorious conductor Terence Fletcher (Simmons), Andrew is given a brief moment to shine and is bumped up to Fletcher's class with immediate effect. He again plays as alternative, this time to core Carl Tanner (Nate Lang), and believes he's bound for greatness until he is asked to perform 'Whiplash', a particularly tricky - and extremely fast - jazz number. When Andrew struggles to keep to Fletcher's tempo, he has a chair hurled at him and is emasculated in front of the class. And so begins a tirade of mental abuse as Andrew strives for his master's acceptance.

J.K. Simmons quite rightly won the Best Supporting Actor at this year's Oscar's for his terrifying portrayal of a passionate yet sadistic man. His drive is his desire to a find a new Charlie 'Bird' Parker, who, as the legend tells it, had a drum symbol hurled at his head during a disastrous early career performance. Rather than being deterred, Bird practised his arse off and, of course, the rest is history. Fletcher beats down on his students, shattering them with verbal assaults as they try to prove themselves worthy. Only Fletcher doesn't seem to have a limit; they are not on his tempo, as he repeatedly tells them. He wears black t-shirts, has muscly arms, and a giant, zig-zagging vein pulses on his forehead. He is a formidable presence, highly charismatic and, in the end, almost sympathetic.

Teller is impressive too. A drummer in real life from a young age, he appears in every scene of the film, and pours his blood and sweat (literally) into the extremely physical musical performances. His showdowns with Fletcher provide the spine of the film, but the intimate moments with Andrew alone, pounding his drums as his face twists and turns, that provide the brain. Is the sacrifice truly worth it? We see Andrew push his body to dangerous limits, isolate himself from his family and his concerned father (played by Paul Reiser), and call for an early day on a brief relationship with a girl from his local cinema (Melissa Benoist). Just when the plot seems to be steering into conventional territory at the finale, director Damien Chazelle provides one of the most satisfying climaxes in recent memory. It's a dizzying orgy of cuts, close-up's and sheer style, which is as toe-tapping as it is awe-inspiring.


Directed by: Damien Chazelle
Starring: Miles Teller, J.K. Simmons, Paul Reiser, Melissa Benoist
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie