Nobody quite saw 2014's The Lego Movie coming. An animated family film based on a hugely popular range of toys sounds like the stuff of nightmares, and something that could tumble a big studio if it didn't find an audience. However, it was a resounding success, both critically and commercially, managing to deliver an exciting, colourful and hilariously funny adventure movie with a poignant message about corporate takeover and the loss of imagination. One of the most memorable supporting players to emerge from the ensemble of wacky characters was Will Arnett's Batman, who proved so popular that we get his spin-off before we get a sequel to The Lego Movie. But this is no bad thing, as while it may not contain the same element of surprise as its predecessor, The LEGO Batman Movie is a more straight-forward blast.
As the song goes, Batman is darkness and has no parents. After saving the city from an attack by the Joker (Zach Galifianakis) and his many cronies, the Dark Knight high-fives his adoring fans but returns to Wayne Island to microwave a lobster thermidor for one. While he may be awesome, he broods over pictures of his dead parents and isolates himself, although his trusted butler Alfred (Ralph Fiennes) is always on hand for advice. Newly-appointed police commissioner Barbara Gordon (Rosario Dawson) announces that she hopes to restructure the force to handle crime without the assistance of Batman, much to the caped crusader's amusement. Meanwhile, the Joker, locked up in Arkham Asylum, plans to manipulate Batman into sending him into the Phantom Zone, where he will be free to gather an army of mega-villains to launch an attack of Gotham and prove once and for all that he is Batman's greatest nemesis.
Lego Batman is arguably a one-joke movie. It takes the character's persona from The Lego Movie - dark, broody and arrogant - and runs with it, building the entire plot around Batman's need to open up and allow other people to enter his life. Yet the film's kinetic energy and gorgeous animation mean that you won't care too much about the lack of a truly engaging story. Director Chris McKay was clearly enjoying himself having Batman's entire rogue gallery at his disposal, as well as members of other Warner Brothers franchises. Familiar villains such as Poison Ivy, Catwoman and Bane (riffing on Tom Hardy's take in The Dark Knight Rises) grace the screen, but we also get appearances from the more obscure Clock King, Kite Man and, most bizarrely, the Condiment King. Batman fans will lap it up, with references to his history in both comic-books and on the big screen, referring to the camp Adam West series from the 60s as "that weird one".
Although this is Batman's first solo movie in Lego form, this is the opposite of an origin story. We meet him already in a set routine. When he isn't effortlessly kicking the butt of crime, he spends his time jamming on the electric guitar, beat-boxing, pumping iron, chowing down on lobster, and laughing at Jerry Maguire. If anything, Batman is a bit too obnoxious, and Arnett does slightly grate at times, but this is eventually balanced out by the introduction of Dick Grayson (Michael Cera), a highly capable and doe-eyed orphan who will become the scantily-clad Robin. The two gradually form a bond that provides the movie's emotional core, which, after an hour or so of Batman's jock shtick, is most welcome. The frequent references to pop culture, which are both clever and tiresome, often make it feel like an extended episode of Robot Chicken, and I believe this is what will divide most of the audience. It's not perfect, and it certainly isn't at the level of The Lego Movie, but if anything, this is a very good Batman movie. And Lord knows it's been a while since there was one of those.
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.
Now the longest-running franchise in cinema history, Daniel Craig's James Bond is back for a fourth outing, and the British super-spy's 24th 'official' adventure overall. Also back is director Sam Mendes, who, after the phenomenal success of 2012's Skyfall, was always going to return to the franchise that brought him both critical and box-office embraces in equal measures. Now that Craig's Bond has been seen as a hot-headed maverick and evolved into the invincible agent with a license to kill as depicted by Connery, Moore et al, the re-boot that kicked off in 2006 is now up to speed and ready to relax into the formula that proved so successful these past 50 years.
Sadly, all Spectre seems to be is formula. It opens in Mexico during the Day of the Dead, where Bond is on a mission following a recorded tip-off from Q (Judi Dench) to assassinate three men who are plotting a terrorist attack. One man escapes, and Bond chases him through a crowd dressed in macabre costumes and into a helicopter. The opening set-piece is easily the most thrilling part of the movie, and Mexico City, beautifully captured by cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema, proves to be an inspired location during one of its most visually illuminating festivals. Straight after the rather hypnotic opening credits, which plays over the sound of Sam Smith's mediocre theme, the plot kicks in and it turns out MI-5 is becoming a redundant outfit; old men in suits who seem like small potatoes in a world of drones and high-tech spy software.
Spectre's ultimate goal is seemingly to prove that this is far from the case, that old-fashioned heroes who can sip martini's and bed beautiful women between taking down criminal organisations are far from gone. Judging by the box-office takings, the film makes its point and then some. It's just a shame that the quality takes a rapid decline after the exciting opener, and insists on establishing itself as a serialised franchise, with all the films from Casino Royale onwards linking into one another. Bond finally finds himself face to face with his greatest foe of all, Ernst Stavro Blofeld (Christoph Waltz), and it's revealed that previous villains Le Chaffre, Dominic Greene and Silva were no more than puppets under his control. The revelation is illogical, ridiculous and ultimately pointless, serving no purpose other than to cash in on the recent trend of having films take place across a shared universe (started by Marvel).
At two and a half hours, the thin plot is stretched out as far as it can go. Bond tracks the illusive terrorist organisation Spectre to Rome, Austria and Morocco, accompanied by the daughter of a former Quantum agent, Dr. Madeleine Swann (Lea Seydoux) and relentlessly pursued by hulking henchman Mr. Hinx (Dave Bautista). By the time the quite bizarre extended climax comes, it feels as if the film should be wrapping itself up. Familiar cast members Ralph Fiennes and Ben Whishaw are back in their respected roles and are given enough screen time to actually effect the plot, but Naomie Harris's Moneypenny is sadly underused, as are Bautista and Monica Bellucci. Still, with a budget of around $245 million - one of the most expensive ever - Spectre is one of the most handsome films I've seen and is why I can't be too hard on the film with my star rating. But with the hype that came with the film upon it's release, it's a bitterly underwhelming experience.
And so here it is finally. After nine years watching the prepubescent speccy wizard grow into a chiselled speccy wizard, the long, long climax is here. Kicking off what has become a fad in novel adaptations aimed mainly at screaming teenage girls (Twilight, The Hunger Games), Deathly Hallows splits the final novel into two 120-plus films. Whether this is to avoid condensing a mammoth, multi-character into one rushed, incoherent stand-alone movie, or to take full advantage of a multi-billion franchise that is soon to finally end, is up for debate (although a sneaky feeling tells me it's the latter). What is for certain is that a huge, dragging chunk of Part 1 could have easily been wavered. It's like director David Yates forgot that this series is supposed to be fun.
This time around, there's no Hogwarts, and there's almost nothing recognisable about the franchise whatsoever. Beginning with an exciting broomstick battle over London which sees surviving members of the Order don Harry's (Daniel Radcliffe) face in an attempt to elude the lurking Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes), things soon turn gloomy as Harry, Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson) are forced to go solo in the countryside in search of the Dark Lord's remaining Horcruxes. If that word perplexes you at this point of the series, you may as well leave early, as quite rightly, the film has no time for catch-up.
With the novel going into much-needed detail in terms of character, background and plot (such is the benefit of literature), the decision to split the film into two parts means Part 1 can breathe easy and take it's time before the final smackdown at Hogwarts in Part 2. This means we spend more time with the three leads as the weight of possible doom lingers heavy on their backs. The absence of the usual stellar adult ensemble is damaging, as Radcliffe, Grint and Watson struggle to hold the film on their own, given their limited acting ability and their character's lack of any real dimension. Grint is easily the best of the three, but Ron is shackled with a jealousy sub-plot (again) which means he gets to mope a lot and storm off.
Yates is the safe choice at this point to end the series. He lacks the cuddly obviousness of Chris Columbus and the more visionary efforts of Alfonso Cuaron and Mike Newell, and apart from a nice little animated sequence near the middle, the film just goes through the motions. There's a nice little dance number, but it's the only recognisable touch from the director. "These are dark times, there's no denying it," warns Rufus Scrimgeour (Bill Nighy), the new minister of magic, in the film's opening scene. Dark and grainy times they are, and oddly joyless, Part 1 feels like an extended advertisement for the real end, Part 2, squeezing it's dedicated fans for all they're worth.
As we all remember, turning 14 comes with as many strange new emotions as it does the need to rebel against everything resembling authority, and Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe), fresh off his experiences battling ghostly Dementors and a werewolf, faces a brand new threat - women. Goblet of Fire, with a new director in Mike Newell,continues Alfonso Cuaron's darker and and more sinister tone, pitching Harry against a whole new range of beasts and dark wizards, but it's the section around the middle of the film - where Harry and his ever-present friends Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson) must find dates and attend formal dance the Yule Ball - that delights the most and brings the very best out of it's still-young actors.
After a Death Eater attack at the Quidditch World Cup that leaves the 'Dark Mark' - the sigil of Lord Voldemort's followers - lighting up the smoky sky, Harry returns to Hogwarts for another year. This year however, they are being joined by overseas schools Beauxbatons of France, and Durmstrang of Bulgaria, as Hogwarts is playing host to the Triwizard Tournament, a collection of dangerous feats that pitches one pupil from each school against each other for the prize. After the champions are selected - Fleur Delacour (Clemence Poesy) for Beauxbatons, Viktor Krum (Stanislav Ianevski) for Durmstrang, and Cedric Diggory (Robert Pattinson) for Hogwarts - a fourth name is spat out - Harry Potter.
Harry swears to Dumbledore (Michael Gambon) that he did not cheat and enter his own name (as he's underage), and, being bound by a magical contract, the schools have no option but to allow him to compete. New Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher 'Mad-Eye' Moody (Brendan Gleeson) - a half-crazed ex-Auror with one magical eye that is independent of his other and which can see through the back of his own head - sets about preparing Harry for the perilous tournament. He must face dragons, sea-monsters and a seemingly endless maze to find the prize, but where Harry is, the threat of Lord Voldemort's return is always lurking.
Mike Newell and returning screenwriter Steve Kloves do an excellent job in condensing a mammoth book (about twice as large as Prisoner of Azkaban) into a coherent film. For a film so rich in action and whizz-bang CGI, it thankfully doesn't neglect the drama. Harry's friendship with Ron and Hermione is stretched, with hormones and jealousy creeping into Ron's personality, and Hermione's struggle to deal with the idiot. But it's hardly melodrama, and the Yule Ball provides the most amusing set-piece in the series, and a welcome distraction from the darkness that lurks outside.
It's the point in the series where disarming spells and defensive tricks start to prove ineffective, and people begin to die. The opening scene, which depicts an elderly muggle (played by Eric Sykes) stumbling upon Peter Pettigrew (Timothy Spall) and an undeveloped Voldemort, sees the first time the dreaded killing curse is used, and therefore sets the tone. It's also bookmarked by a thrilling climax in which (spoilers!) Voldemort finally returns in the form of a noseless Ralph Fiennes, who puts in a suitably creepy performance. It doesn't beat Azkaban as the series best entry, it's far too long and sometimes rushed for that, but it's certainly the most entertaining.
Those who turn their nose up at the thought of another fussily-filmed, wildly colourful journey into the world and mind of Wes Anderson, will no doubt detest his latest, and arguably most perfect work, The Grand Budapest Hotel. His work is criticised by his haters for being too meticulously structured, his camera limited to sideways and occasionally upwards movements, festooned with bold colours, always leading to that dreaded, overused word - 'quirky'. Yet this is a world a sly wit, of characters so ridiculous and charming that you could wish they would replace the monotonous bores that litter our reality, and one in which Bill Murray is omnipresent.
In the pink, mountainous haven of the picturesque, fictitious European country of Zubrowka, sits the Grand Budapest Hotel. In it's heyday, the hotel was meticulously managed by Monsieur Gustave H. (Ralph Fiennes), a charismatic, perfume-wearing horndog, who knew all about what his guests wanted before they even knew they wanted it. On the day that one of his elderly conquests, Madame D. (Tilda Swinton), leaves the hotel, he meets new lobby boy Zero Moustafa (Tony Revolori), and immediately begins to groom him as his possible successor. When he hears of Madame D's death, Gustave and Zero travel to her mansion to hear the reading of her will.
She leaves Gustave a piece of priceless art, something heavily resented by Madame's two evil, leather-jacketed sons, Dmitri (Adrien Brody) and Jopling (Willem Dafoe), who don't wish to see this lecherous lothario receive a dime. Sensing trouble, Gustave and Zero steal the painting, replace it with some kind of grotesque lesbian erotica, and flee. This sets in motion a series of farcical events involving a prison escape, an apologetic police officer named Henckels (Edward Norton), a missing butler, and the rise of fascism. All of this is told by an ageing Zero (F. Murray Abraham) to a curious writer credited only as 'The Author' (Jude Law).
What it all about, you ask? Possibly nothing. This could all be just a splurge of the director's imagination, or a hark back to the grand eccentrics of the olden days. It could be about the state of Europe between the two World Wars, with the Grand Budapest Hotel a multi-national asylum for all of the continent's misfits. But the setting simply seems too fitting for it's comedic approach for it to be labelled with any kind of 'war' or 'period' label, with bursts of slapstick and comedy-of-manners worthy of Lubitsch, punctured by ridiculous exclamations from it's hyperactive concierge. When he hears about an enemy's dastardly plan, he responds "the fuckers!".
So, I don't quite know what it's all about. What I do know is that I loved every second of watching it's ludicrous story play out, anchored by an outstanding performance by Fiennes. He may seem an odd choice for an Anderson film, whose films are usually littered with the likes of Jason Schwartzman, Owen Wilson, and Bill Murray (all of whom appear here), but his Gustave is Anderson's greatest creation, brought fearlessly and completely to life by Fiennes. He's certainly no spring chicken, but he's a strange delight to spend 100 minutes with. And that's really how I felt about the entire experience, it was certainly strange, but utterly delightful.
Schindler's List is a film that will no doubt forever grace the endless 'Best Movies' lists trumped up by various organisations and movie magazines. It's serious subject matter, black-and-white photography, rousing score and 'directed by Steven Spielberg' tag has cemented it's status as one of the best American movies of all time. But the more hardened movie-goer will more than likely pick holes in it, and tell you that this in fact not even Spielberg's greatest achievement. Which is why, 21 years after it's release, I decided to revisit Schindler's List, and although I would agree that Spielberg has made better (he did make Jaws (1975) after all), this is still a masterful work, a wonderfully mature step-up for the film-maker who had, up to 1993, leaned towards the visual spectacle of David Lean and Howard Hawks.
The Holocaust is now very much a roll-your-eyes focus for a film-maker, easily passed off as a desperate plea for awards and serious recognition, and the Oscar are routinely stacked with movies portraying this appalling historical event. But Spielberg's movie was the first one brave enough to show it for what it was - a sickening, bloody event that humiliated its victims and where the life of a Jew was worth less than the work the Nazi's could squeeze out of them before they were routinely disposed of. Documentaries such as Night and Fog (1955) and Shoah (1985) hit hard, much more so than in this movie, but Schindler's List feels like a documentary come to life, with Janusz Kaminski's cinematography giving the movie a sense of timelessness.
Liam Neeson is Oskar Schindler, a Czechoslovakian opportunist looking to use cheap Jewish labour during World War II to make him enough money to help him retire a very wealthy man. He employs Jewish accountant Itzhak Stern (Ben Kinsley) to hire his workers and run his factory for him, at first making kitchen utensils to be used in the war. After witnessing the liquidation of the Krakow ghetto under the direction of SS-Untersturmfuhrer Amon Goeth (Ralph Fiennes), in which many Jews are massacred, Schindler is profoundly affected. He begins to lavish gifts and bribes upon Goeth in order to protect his workers from being murdered, but as the Germans begin to lose the war, Goeth receives the orders to move the Jews from his camp onto Auschwitz.
Made the same year as his CGI blockbuster Jurassic Park, Schindler's List showed an unseen maturity in Spielberg's work. He had made 'serious' films before, but they were always in the style of classic Hollywood; grand, sweeping epics that were generally homages to better directors. Here, Spielberg is invisible, his hand nowhere to be seen until one of the final scenes. This was film-making closer to Italian neo-realism, with hand-held cameras, bleak cinematography, and a glorious lack of sentimentality. Rather than make you weep into a tissue, he has you looking away from the screen in utter shock. Hundreds of naked Jews are humiliated as decisions are made on their ability to work and Goeth coldly shoots workers with a rifle from his balcony before breakfast. In one of its most famous scenes, a group of women are led into a shower room that may just be a gas chamber. It's one of the most terrifying sequences in recent memory.
Spielberg wisely chose relatively unknown actors to fill the roles. Neeson, now inexplicably an action star, brings a complexity to Schindler as he changes between smug womaniser and Nazi suck-up to a man capable of great kindness and selflessness, and the film isn't afraid to show the darker side of his character. Kingsley, who was known for his Oscar-winning role in Gandhi (1982), is Schindler's consciousness, a constant reminder of the atrocities that were being committed outside of Schindler's comfortable bubble. As Amon Goeth, one of cinema's most memorable villains, Ralph Fiennes steals the film. He is a hypocritical, loathsome psychopath, embodying the sense of self-righteousness of the Nazi power trip. He despises the Jews, and preaches about their extermination, yet falls in love with his servant Helen Hirsch (Embeth Davidtz), only to beat her in his disgust.
Although there are better films out there that focus on World War II or the Holocaust, it is of no surprise that this is still one of Spielberg's most revered films. It is a brave, accomplished film that gives you a sense that this was the film the director was always meant to make. However, he seems unable to resist stamping his recognisable dose of sentimentality at the climax, as Schindler breaks down in front of his workers wishing he did that little bit more. It's an unnecessarily slushy scene, a piece of director self-indulgence in what is damn near a perfect film, that, if anything, lessens the brutal impact of what came before. But this is a staunch reminder of the atrocities that humanity is capable of, and, as all great movies do, feels incredibly short at over three hours.
The line between reality and fiction in television has always been a blur. Before every household had their furniture pointed at the TV, news reels in cinemas were a medium in which governments filled people's heads with propaganda, quite easily manipulating viewers into believing that what they were seeing was fact - after all, back then, it was the only way to see what was happening outside of your own country, without actually leaving it yourself. As soon as studio heads realised how gullible audiences were, they seized the opportunity to rake in the cash. With the explosion of the Internet making the world relatively tiny, you would think people would be more aware of the dangers of believing what they see. Yet reality TV, a sickening creation that quite obviously plays out scripted scenes in natural environments, still has people duped. It seemed a fitting time to re-visit Robert Redford's thoroughly underrated Quiz Show, a meditation on the unrivalled power of television, and the hold it can have over a nation.
In 1950's America, Twenty One contestant Herb Stempel (John Turturro) wows audiences every week with his encyclopaedic general knowledge. With his approval ratings wavering, the big studio heads decide America is tired of cheering for the underdog, and order Herb to be removed from the show. Producers Dan Enright (David Paymer) and Albert Freedman (Hank Azaria) seek out a poster-boy, a figurehead that would give American someone to look up to, and ultimately aspire to be. Freedman spots Charles Van Doren (Ralph Fiennes) auditioning for another show, and immediately snaps him up, offering the chance to win big money with relative ease - he will be given the answers. Van Doren is handsome, well-spoken, highly intellectual - the complete opposite to the mentally unstable Herb, who is paid off to lose to Van Doren. With Van Doren becoming a national treasure, Herb is appalled and takes his claims to the Grand Jury, catching the eye of young Congressional lawyer Dick Goodwin (Rob Morrow), who takes a special interest in the case.
Artistic license was obviously taken with Quiz Show, but Redford uses his directorial skill to create a crime story with no crime and no criminals, and no mystery given that the audience are in on the rigging from the start. So, the film is left as a damning portrayal of naivety, and a disturbing insight into the machinations of the most powerful corporation in the world - television itself. Goodwin, the "Uncle Tom of the Jews" is an outcast Harvard graduate, a small man in stature and societal hierarchy, believing that exposing this manipulation with cripple television and ultimately cause it to re-evaluate itself. Of course, it is Stempel and Van Doren - the pawns (albeit guilty pawns) - that suffer the most, being humiliated and having their reputations rocked, while studio head Robert Knitner (Allan Rich) and the executive of show sponsor Geritol, Mark Rittenhome (Martin Scorsese), emerging unscathed. Hanging Enright and Freedman out to dry, Rittenhome explains to an appalled Goodwin that "audiences forget, corporations don't". The footnotes at the end of the film explain that Enright and Freedman returned from their exile a few years later, becoming millionaires in the process.
Quiz Show is also a fine character piece, and while Rob Morrow grabs the majority of the screen time, it is Ralph Fiennes who truly impresses. Van Doren could be viewed as a rather despicable character; a man who sells his soul for money he doesn't really need, and for fame it brings him. Yet in Fiennes' hands, Van Doren becomes undeniably human, causing you to truly evaluate your own ethics, and what you would do if placed in a similar situation. This feeling is shared by Goodwin, who befriends Van Doren despite investigating him. He sees Van Doren as a victim who has been swept up in a tide of money and fame, manipulated in the same way as the people watching him, and it is the friendship between the two that is the beating heart of the film.
What makes Quiz Show so enjoyable and enthralling is the fact that it never lets its weighty issues get in the way of the emotional drama, and is a quite fascinating story to boot. Redford depicts Goodwin's struggle through legal bureaucracy, juxtaposing it with his refreshingly stable home life with wife Sandra (Mira Sorvino), a factor that can often be intrusive in movies about real events. We also witness Van Doren's guilt-ridden relationship with his famous father Mark (an excellent Paul Scofield), and Herb's strained marriage to Toby (Johann Carlo). But it is Goodwin's reaction to the events that ultimately linger in the mind, with his resigned realisation that television is simply to powerful to fight proving a rather depressing sentiment. Perhaps more people need to see this film before they completely succumb to escapism, and we become a nation of red-eyed zombies.
So finally, after becoming the highest grossing film of all time in the UK, grossing over 1 billion dollars worldwide, and amongst chants of "best Bond ever!", I finally got round to watching Skyfall, Daniel Craig's third appearance as the re-invented British spy, following the excellent Casino Royale (2006) and the somewhat flat Quantum of Solace (2008). Ever since Paul Greengrass picked up the reigns of the moderately successful The Bourne Identity (2002) and gave birth to a franchise with his sequel The Bourne Supremacy (2004), action cinema has been significantly affected. We no longer expect cheesy one-liners and long-haired villains being thrown over tables, we now look for damaged anti-heroes, spectacular but realistic stunts, and messy hand-to-hand combat. Skyfall is Bond's most emotionally engaging movie yet, but it's also an alarmingly underwhelming experience.
After a botched MI6 operation in Istanbul, a lone mercenary, Patrice (Ola Rapace), escapes with a computer file containing details about undercover agents working within terrorist organisations. James Bond is accidentally shot by his partner Eve (Naomie Harris) and believed to be dead. Back in London, M (Judi Dench) finds her position threatened by Gareth Mallory (Ralph Fiennes), who urges her to retire in the aftermath of Istanbul. When the MI6 headquarters are bombed following a threatening cyber-message to M, Bond returns, facing questions about his mental state and his physical ability. But when Patrice is tracked down, an assassination leads Bond to a casino in Macao, owned by cyber-terrorist Raoul Silva (Javier Bardem), a former colleague of M's.
If I can say off the bat, I've always been in favour of this re-invention of Bond. As the 'old' Bond films were progressing, they were becoming gradually more ridiculous and fantasy-laden, leading to the inexplicable invisible car in Pierce Brosnan's last film as Bond, Die Another Day (2002). The films seemed to be losing sight of Ian Fleming's source novels, and although they remained commercial hits, Brosnan's outings (with the exception of GoldenEye (1995) were becoming increasingly dire. Casino Royale set the tone early with a moody black-and-white sequence that gave birth to Daniel Craig's colder, brutal Bond, less concerned with how his Martini's were made than going to extreme (and illegal) lengths to bring down his target(s). Royale's reinvention showed a darker side to the beloved character, yet staying with tradition, still kept him at an emotional distance.
Director Sam Mendes made the bold decision to reveal more about Bond's past and childhood, risking fanboy wrath and damaging Bond's almost mythical characterisations. The main crux of the film focuses on his relationship with M, a stern authoritarian that risks career and her own soul in putting national safety and the success of a mission above the lives of her agents. Bond, being a willing soldier, follows M blindly, and when Silva announces his intention to enact revenge on M for a former betrayal, Bond takes M to his childhood home, Skyfall. Bond facing his childhood allows time to develop on Bond's tormented psyche, but it all seems quite out of place. One of the most intriguing things about Bond is his almost suicidal willingness to risk all for his job due to his almost complete lack of emotion, but Skyfall is unable to make any grand revelations so it all comes to nothing more than a distraction. (Saying that, the only previous Bond film to try and engage Bond emotionally led to one of the most devastatingly cold climaxes in the series' history in the underrated On Her Majesty's Secret Service (1969)).
As well as the Bourne series, it seems that Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy (2005-2012) is a major influence on this film in particular. Mendes delves deeper into the workings and hierarchy of MI6, rather than just a boss sat behind a desk, and adds a modern, more 'real' bad guy in Silva to the mix (even stealing the Joker's voluntary arrest in The Dark Knight (2008)). Silva is a technical genius, able to hack MI6's database with relative ease, and also proving himself more resourceful and intelligent than Bond and M realise. Bardem is wonderful in the role (as you would expect), but sadly his character is not. Labelling him simply as a cyber virtuoso seems like a very lazy way to allow Silva to repeatedly outwit MI6 and their own technical marvel Q (Ben Whishaw) to the point where you wonder if Britain's finest could really be so stupid. The film is therefore full of plot-holes and distracting MacGuffin's that stretches out the running time to more than it really needs to be.
Skyfall also asks a lot of the audience, especially when it comes to suspending their belief. Before the frankly bizarre opening sequence appears and we are treated to Adele's drab title song, we witness an already wounded Bond get shot with a rifle and fall over 300 feet from the Varda Viaduct into water, only to emerge alive and romancing a mystery woman. No explanation is given as to how he manages to survive the ordeal, and given the revelations about Bond's diminishing physical prowess, it seems rather insulting. As questions are raised by his superiors over Bond's ability to his job given his age (it must be the grey in his stubble), Bond is put through various tests in which he struggles with, yet half way through the film, this seems to be simply put aside as he competently shoots and fights his way through various bad guys. Again, no real explanation given.
Like I stated before, the most suitable word to describe this film would be underwhelming, especially with the critical adoration that the film was lavished with. The action scenes are dull, with nothing matching the free-jumping opening of Royale. They are also quite strange - was anyone expecting a henchman to be eaten by a CGI Komodo dragon? How about death by underwater funky chicken? It all leads to a very unsatisfying climax at Skyfall, where a simple shoot-out and foot chase fail to justify a 2 hour-plus build-up. It feels like the entire film is building up to an explosive climax that never comes. I found the whole experiencing really quite baffling, with the attempts to mix the old with the new Bond never really convincing or flowing. The film is competently directed by Mendes however, and everything looks suitably crisp and clean. What direction all of this means for Bond, I don't know, but given the film is currently the 14th highest-grossing film of all time, and the film somehow being lauded by critics and audiences alike, it won't be too long until Craig dons the suit once again.
So the Potter machine is finally at it's end, with the decision to split the final book into two films proving a financial masterstroke. Ten years on from the first, the films have had a number of different directors, used practically every fine British actor there is that's still alive, and have ranged vastly in quality. They have also become extremely dark, with the 'love will triumph over evil' moral and the never-truly-threatening bad guys of the early two films being replaced with murdered house elves, tortured children, mass murder, and main characters being mercilessly killed in the blink of an eye. Author J.K. Rowling wanted the fans to grow up with Harry and mature with the books, and on many levels it works very well.
Part 1 left us with Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) having to bury one of his trusted friends, and Lord Voldemort (Ralph Feinnes), along with his Death Eaters, are closing in on Hogwarts. Harry, Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson) have still got some horcruxes (pieces of Voldemort's soul, for those you haven't watched it) left to find, and arrive at Hogsmeade to find a way into Hogwarts, which is being run by the evil (?) Severus Snape (Alan Rickman). They find a way in thanks to Dumbledore's brother Aberforth (Ciaran Hinds), and are quick to take control of the school. But with Voldemort approaching, teachers and pupils alike must join forces in a climactic battle, while Harry scours the school for the horcruxes.
While Part 1 seemed to be stretched out and become rather slow in the middle section, Part 2 is action-packed. I'm not ashamed to say that I am a fan of the books, yet I was disappointed with the last one. After so long reading, the finale was anti-climatic and wasn't as dramatic or revelatory as I was expecting it to be. This is the main reason why Part 2 works so well. It extends the final showdown, making it rough, exciting and worthy of watching seven previous films, as Harry and Voldemort cross wands and fists. A slight disappointment though is the Battle of Hogwarts, which was a great section of the book. Giants, werewolves and stone men alike clash with the wizards and Death Eaters as Hogwarts is reduced to rubble. The build-up to it is great, but then the action shifts away to Harry, and his search for the horcruxes is less interesting than the battle happening around him.
It is as big a climax as you could hope for though, with every penny of the massive budget visible on screen. The special effects are virtually flawless, but the majority of the huge cast are give little or nothing to do. The likes of Emma Thompson, Jim Broadbent, Maggie Smith, Robbie Coltrane, Gary Oldman, John Hurt, Julie Walters and David Thewlis, who are the pinnacle of British talent, are given little more than a few lines. I know, these were major players in previous films, but with this kind of talent reduced to little more than cameos, it makes it upsetting that we're stuck with Daniel Radcliffe for the duration (likeable as he is). Ralph Fiennes though, who only appears briefly in the previous films, is given a lot more to chew on, and revels in it.
A fitting climax to a memorable series of films. Although never achieving anywhere near greatness, Harry Potter notched up some decent films (forgetting the first two), especially Alfonso Cuaron's third instalment, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004). It will be interesting to see where the three leads go from this, as none of them are the most gifted of actors, and it's a wonder if they'll ever manage to shake off the phenomenon that is Harry Potter.
As the song goes, Batman is darkness and has no parents. After saving the city from an attack by the Joker (Zach Galifianakis) and his many cronies, the Dark Knight high-fives his adoring fans but returns to Wayne Island to microwave a lobster thermidor for one. While he may be awesome, he broods over pictures of his dead parents and isolates himself, although his trusted butler Alfred (Ralph Fiennes) is always on hand for advice. Newly-appointed police commissioner Barbara Gordon (Rosario Dawson) announces that she hopes to restructure the force to handle crime without the assistance of Batman, much to the caped crusader's amusement. Meanwhile, the Joker, locked up in Arkham Asylum, plans to manipulate Batman into sending him into the Phantom Zone, where he will be free to gather an army of mega-villains to launch an attack of Gotham and prove once and for all that he is Batman's greatest nemesis.
