Review #695: 'Silver Linings Playbook' (2012)

This is the kind of film that the Academy love and regularly shower with awards come Oscar season. Silver Linings Playbook is a story of love triumphing over mental illness that sees excellent performances across the board, but, as is the norm with these types of films, the 'serious' subject matter glosses over the cracks in the story's believability, and the happy ending rather waters down the seriousness of bipolar disorder, resulting in a somewhat insulting message that love can somehow cure mental illness. But David O. Russell, the former indie pioneer who's now a regular Oscar-botherer, is a good director, and with it's many flaws aside, Silver Linings is a funny, quite moving picture.

After being released early from a mental institution, Pat (Bradley Cooper), a man brimming with anger and who has bipolar disorder, tries to win back the wife that has taken a restraining order out on him. He has a new positive outlook on life, but is still quick to anger, throwing a book through a window because he doesn't like the ending. His parents (Jacki Weaver and Robert De Niro) try to support him but find it difficult to cope. He meets the equally unstable Tiffany (the beautiful Jennifer Lawrence), and the two make a deal. She will get a letter to his wife as long as he becomes her dance partner in an upcoming contest.

Russell's back catalogue shows his unique eye for comedy. I Heart Huckabees (2004) was a bizarre existential comedy full of oddball characters that really worked, and Three Kings (1999), his breakthrough, managed to squeeze many laughs out of a war-torn setting. Silver Linings Playbook is more comedy than drama, but the laughs are few and far between. De Niro is the real comic relief in the movie, but his OCD, Philadelphia Eagles-obsessed father isn't believable. In fact, the whole family setting asks a lot of the audience. For a film so seemingly grounded in reality (it takes the washed-out, shaky camera approach), the supporting characters just aren't real.

It works best when its two leads are together. The movie really depends on the chemistry between Pat and Tiffany, and they do sparkle in their scenes. It's rare that a movie makes me want characters to get together, but in the moments when they dance, you can feel the connection, and you want Pat to forget his estranged wife and open his eyes to what's in front of him. Cooper brings a likeability to a occasionally despicable character, but Lawrence steals the film. Tiffany is a force of nature, damaged by the death of her husband and now finds herself labelled a slut after many a one-night stand. With Lawrence at the helm, it's impossible not to fall in love with her.

The rom-com clichés are followed very much to the T, with eccentric minor characters that somehow all end up in the same place at the end, the will-they-or-won't-they climax, but it does them well. It also avoids any real upsets in Pat and Tiffany's journey, instead opting for a much more light-hearted, easy-going approach. But, like Pat says, isn't their enough fucking misery in the world already? Maybe he's right, but I feel the movie took an easy path opposed to a more serious study of the effects of mental illness.


Directed by: David O. Russell
Starring: Bradley Cooper, Jennifer Lawrence, Robert De Niro, Jacki Weaver, Chris Tucker
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #694: 'The Quatermass Xperiment' (1955)

After the enormous success of the BBC mini-series of the same name, Hammer Studios, which at the time were specialising in supporting features, swooped in to action a feature film adaptation. This being the first horror film they produced, The Quatermass Xperiment can be labelled as the birth of Hammer horror, and for that we are truly thankful. The surprising thing is, for all it's B-movie clunkiness and 1950's science-babble, Quatermass has stood the test of time. It's a serious, occasionally thrilling, and undeniably entertaining little picture.

After a rocket ship holding three astronauts crash-lands in the English countryside, Professor Quatermass (Brian Donlevy) arrives with his troupe of investigators and fellow scientists. After they open the hatch, they find two of the pilots vanished, and only one - Victor Carroon (Richard Wordsworth) - barely survived. He is taken in for treatment, and watched over by Dr. Briscoe (David King-Wood), who notices his skin taking an oily form. But Carroon's wife wants her husband back and smuggles him out of the hospital, where he escapes into London, absorbing any lifeforms he comes across.

Writer Nigel Kneale apparently disapproved of Donlevy's rather prickly performance as Quatermass, but I feel Donlevy (who was apparently sozzled throughout the entire shoot) is the reason Quatermass works so well. Rather than simply being your average scientist, Quatermass is a subtle madman, waving away procedure and safety in the name of science, playing God because he has the brains to do so. The film also works thanks to some impressive special-effects work, and a stoic Wordsworth in a performance and role that surely became the framework for Christopher Lee's Monster in Hammer's The Curse of Frankenstein (1957).

It's a short, snappy piece that moves along nicely, never getting too caught up in the science and wholeheartedly embracing the fiction. There's also a fine humour that prevails throughout the film, especially in the scenes involving Jack Warner's brilliantly sarcastic Inspector Lomax. It seems silly now to think that the film received the dreaded 'X' certificate back in 1955, but Hammer deliberately aimed the have the film stamped with this rating (as reflected in the 'Xperiment' of the title). This willingness to dare the audience to be scared had them flocking to see it, and, of course, the rest is history.


Directed by: Val Guest
Starring: Brian Donlevy, Jack Warner, Richard Wordsworth, David King-Wood, Margia Dean
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #693: 'Martha Marcy May Marlene' (2011)

When we first meet the mysterious 'cult' family in Martha Marcy May Marlene, it seems like the group are living a kind of idyllic, old-fashioned rural lifestyle, where the dungaree-wearing men hammer nails and build all day, while the women quietly do chores and prepare the men's dinner. Everyone seems happy, and the camp leader, the craggy, guitar-strumming Patrick (the fantastic John Hawkes) is charismatic and oddly charming. Yet there's an underlying sense of unease during these scenes, and this is where the film is at its best, slowly revealing through flashbacks the group's real motivations, as if peeping through the curtain of the strange family down the road.

Where the film sadly fails, is that the revelations aren't particularly surprising. Debut writer/director Sean Durkin's intentions are clearly not to produce a schlocky horror film with a big pay-off. It is more interested in the lasting effects the group has on its protagonist, Martha (Elizabeth Olsen), after she escapes and re-unites with her sister Lucy (Sarah Paulson), who is living in middle-class comfort hosting parties with her husband Ted (Hugh Dancy). Durkin heavily researched cults, but found the experiences of a young girl's life three weeks after she had escaped the most interesting, and Martha is an extremely damaged woman. Known by three different names, she has clearly lost her own identity, and finds it difficult to fit back into society.

Lucy and Ted struggle with Martha's increasingly erratic behaviour, as she bursts with fits of anger and innocently enters situations that society have deemed inappropriate. Olsen is a revelation here, giving a performance of maturity and complexity, a hushed, awkward presence in her sister's house of social formality. Hawkes is also impressive, following his creepy, Oscar-nominated performance in Winter's Bone (2010) with another character that slowly reveals himself as the film progresses. But for all it's indie-awareness and technical achievements (the film has a murky, ghostly feel), it's ultimately a victim of its own promises. It does so well at creating tension and foreboding, that it damages the rather predictable revelations. Still, Durkin is a director to keep an eye on, and Olsen, who went criminally unrecognised at an Oscars that was noticeably lacking in meaty female roles, should enjoy a long career.


Directed by: Sean Durkin
Starring: Elizabeth Olsen, Sarah Paulson, John Hawkes, Hugh Dancy
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #692: 'Forbidden Zone' (1982)

For anyone familiar with, or is a fan of, the Midnight Movie circuit that was most popular between the early 70's and mid-80's, will no doubt have seen Richard Elfman's warped black-and-white musical Forbidden Zone. Taking the natural step from theatre to film, Elfman took the playful and smutty performances of his musical troupe Mystic Knights of the Oingo Boingo (along with his brother Danny and co-writer Matthew Bright) and delivered a true head-fuck, and one that is filled with frog-headed butlers, machine-gun toting teachers, a scat-loving Satan, and an entrance into the sixth dimension that literally shits you into its bizarre universe.

Frenchy Hercules (Marie-Pascale Elfman) lives with her dysfunctional family in a house that happens to be hiding the entrance to the sixth dimension in it's basement. After being told by chicken-man Squeezit Henderson (Bright) that his transgender sister Rene (also Bright) has entered the sixth dimension, Frenchy decides to have a little peek but ends up falling in. There she discovers a world ruled by sex-mad dwarf King Fausto (Herve Villechaize) and his domineering Queen Doris (the wonderful Susan Tyrrell). Fausto takes a liking to Frenchy and takes her as his personal prisoner, much to the wrath of Doris. After being gone for days, Hercules family members Flash (Phil Gordon) and Grampa (Hyman Diamond) enter the sixth dimension to rescue her.

The 'plot' is no more than a excuse for Elfman and Bright to put on some truly remarkable and deliciously twisted musical numbers. Their influences were always 1930's vaudeville and jazz, but here they also embrace the 80's with rock and ska, with the particular stand-out for me was Danny Elfman's rendition of Minnie the Moocher as Satan. They try to make the most of an obviously tight budget, but the film does look dirt-cheap. The walls and sets look like they've been drawn by a child, but some sequences evoke the work of Monty Python.

But I doubt Elfman and Bright had in mind to make a professional-looking film, and preferred to just have their original vision out there for the world to see. Where the film lacks in budget it tries to make up for in smutty humour, and although the comedy and visuals here are often overly crass (I've never seen so much dry-humping), it has the cheeky playfulness of early John Waters. It's pointless to try and make sense of Forbidden Zone, I mean, why bother with a sixth dimension when the 'real world' is just as equally screwed up? Instead just enjoy this true one-of-a-kind, whether it be the breakneck pace, the farcical humour, Tyrrell's battle-axe performance, or the truly inspired musical numbers.


Directed by: Richard Elfman
Starring: Marie-Pascale Elfman, Hervé Villechaize, Susan Tyrrell, Gisele Lindley, Matthew Bright
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #691: 'Jonestown: The Life and Death of Peoples Temple' (2006)

The greatest documentaries will keep you fascinated throughout, regardless of whether you know the outcome or not. The focus of Jonestown: The Life and Death of Peoples Temple is the mysterious and disturbing mass-suicide of 909 people in the jungles of Guyana, in a new settlement they dubbed 'Jonestown' after their fanatical leader Jim Jones. This was a well publicised event, but has only really been tagged as a simple 'cult ritual', with all the finer details frustratingly spared. Jonestown delves deeper into this still-shocking event, and exposes not a small army of brainwashed fanatics, but a community terrified by a maniacal control-freak with a God complex.

Jim Jones was a lonely child in a household dominated by an unloving, alcoholic father. He sought refuge in the church where he found a family he belonged to, and eventually became a preacher. While preaching for civil rights and racial equality, he began to amass a large following, and soon his small community was too large for Indiana, and they all relocated to California where they became known as the Peoples Temple. Followers had there medical bills, travel expenses, clothes and near everything else paid for them, as to be a member you were expected to work and earn your place. Soon though, members began defecting, and Jones and Peoples Temple fled to Guyana after a magazine article was due to be published, exposing sexual abuse, physical humiliation and staged healings at the hands of Jones.

Sadly, this documentary leaves many questions unanswered, namely surrounding Jones himself, who remains a - strangely uncharismatic - mystery. Yet through interviews with survivors and Jones's adopted son, we learn that political power gained through the growth of Peoples Temple and his abuse of drugs and alcohol, soon led to his psychological demise. His preachings of racial equality helped him earn the backing of elderly black women, and soon enough liberal white youngsters, and his old-world gospel style quickly earned him the adoration of these social outcasts. But we hear him preach about how there is no heaven above, and if these people want him to be their God, then he will play that role. This would be blasphemy in most people's eyes, yet these people on the crust of society were just looking for some kind of stability and sense of belonging.

Of the actual massacre itself, there is a surprisingly large amount of video and audio recordings. The camp has an atmosphere of hushed fear, that everyone is thinking the same thing but no-one dare say it. Jones's voice blasted out his gibberish, alcohol-fuelled rants almost non-stop while the followers did their jobs. The murder of Congressman Leo Ryan sets in motion a terrifying sequence of events, all caught mainly on audio, as Jones tells his members that it's time to die. His voice urging the children to "hurry, hurry," is particularly chilling. It's still difficult to believe how this happened. A man who could have had all the power he craved, both politically and financially, but seemed to be driven more by the need to control and dominate his loyal followers. Like I said before, Jim Jones still remains a mystery, but the movie does shed some light on the man, and paints a clearer picture of what happened that day on November 18th, 1978.


Directed by: Stanley Nelson
Starring: Jim Jones
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #690: 'Elysium' (2013)

Back in 2009, the film-viewing world began raving about a curious new sci-fi actioner named District 9. Boasting a satirical commentary on racial segregation and a funny-accented producer-turned-lead star Sharlto Copley, it signalled the arrival of a potentially explosive new director, Neill Blomkamp. Personally, the film embraced genre clichés a little to willingly for my taste, but it was an exciting little film with some interesting things to say. Four years later, Blomkamp is on similar grounds with Elysium, but this time the target is the social elite.

In 2154, Earth has been abandoned by the super rich, who have all packed up and headed to a space station named Elysium. There they live a care-free life in their mansions and all talk French, seemingly sipping wine all day by the pool. The biggest benefit is a healthcare machine that can diagnose a patient and heal them almost instantly. Back on Earth, things are tough. Robots police the dusty streets, and ex-con Max da Costa (Matt Damon) is repeatedly beaten down by the man when he's just trying to get to work. When an industrial accident exposes Max to a heavy dose of radiation, he is given 5 days to live. He must get up to Elysium at all costs with the help of his criminal friends Julio (Diego Luna) and Spider (Wagner Moura) in order to heal himself.

Like District 9, the social observations are sharp, with obvious parallels to be made with the American health system, where the rich can enjoy top-class treatment from the best doctors, while the poor are forced to choose which of their fingers they want sown back on. Not to say the satire is subtle - this is the cinematic equivalent of posting dog shit through an enemy's letter-box - Jodie Foster's evil Delacourt hires her psychopathic 'man on the ground' Kruger (Sharlto Copley) to shoot down any illegal immigrants attempting to land on Elysium to get some better healthcare. The rich here have no dimensions - faceless suits who wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire. But the anger in Elysium makes the film all the more absorbing.

Sadly (and, again, like in District 9), this comes at the expense of the story. Max is a faceless 'good' guy, but is given some humanity by the effortlessly likeable Matt Damon. His love interest is in his childhood flame Frey (Alice Braga), who has a child riddled with leukaemia, causing Max to question his priorities. It's all too predictable and overly familiar, riddled with distracting plot-holes and silly plot devices. Blomkamp's tech-fetish surfaces again as Max is given an exoskeleton that somehow makes him stronger, making him look a bit like Bane from The Dark Knight Rises (2012).

In a performance a world away from his ethically-challenged, bureaucratic weed in District 9, Sharlto Copley damn near steals the entire film. Bulked up and bearded, Kruger is a terrifying (albeit rather one-dimensional) psychopath, apparently capable of any horrific act. I could listen to his voice all day, which is the complete opposite of Jodie Foster, who delivers a strangely tuned-out performance with the strangest accent I've ever heard. She is simply terrible. But that's Elysium, a film that achieves as many hits as it does misses, neglecting the story for some cutting satire, boasting some astonishing CGI but delivering some sub-standard set-pieces, but overall, a pretty good movie.


Directed by: Neill Blomkamp
Starring: Matt Damon, Jodie Foster, Sharlto Copley, Alice Braga, Diego Luna, Wagner Moura, William Fichtner
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #689: 'Killer's Kiss' (1955)

In 1955, a young man of seemingly limitless - but as of then unrecognised - talent, wrote, produced and directed a short B-grade film noir called Killer's Kiss. The film, apart from some excellent technical aspects, is relatively average, and would probably be all but forgotten had the young man not been Stanley Kubrick. Killer's Kiss only really shows glimpses of the greatness that would come from the much revered director, but no doubt this was down to - as Kubrick's many roles behind the camera would indicate - a lack of backing from the film industry. But Killer's Kiss proves to be a snappy little noir, with a truly thrilling climax.

Over-the-hill boxer Davey Gordon (Jamie Smith) has just been beaten by young, up-and-comer Kid Rodriguez. He decides that he's done with being a human punch bag and prepares for a life of farming with his uncle. Sharing his apartment block is the beautiful Gloria Price (Irene Kane - who passed away just over a month ago), a taxi dancer who, on the night of the fight, was being groped by her sleazy manager Vincent Rapallo (Frank Silvera), who she knocked back. While resting after the fight, Davey hears a scream from Gloria's apartment when Vincent attacks her. After chasing him off, Davey and Gloria start a relationship, yet they both need to collect the money owed to them by Vincent before they can move away and start a life together.

This ticks all the juicy boxes for your typical B-movie noir - a dangerous dame, a bum who is in way over his head, cynical narration, a case of mistaken identity. The film makes up for it's pretty bland plot and dull leaning man with an exciting rooftop chase that comes at the climax, and a well choreographed fist-fight in a room full of mannequins. While the film as a whole shows little of Kubrick's unparalleled talent, it does display his eye for visuals. Kubrick was a painter with his camera, and here we get some glorious German Expressionism-inspired moments, as well as showing us the real New York in the 1950's in a scene outside Vincent's club. It's a pretty forgettable movie overall, but no doubt an important stepping-stone in Kubrick's journey to becoming a cinematic master, as The Killing came the next year, which was the first in a long line of masterpieces from the director.


Directed by: Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Jamie Smith, Irene Kane, Frank Silvera
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #688: 'A Serbian Film' (2010)

If you like your horror movies extreme, then chances are you would have heard of, or seen, Srdjan Spasojevic's A Serbian Film. Pushing boundaries of taboo to their very extremities, the movie features rape, paedophilia, necrophilia, and all manners of degrading acts, mainly towards women. It also features a scene where a women gives birth to a baby, only to hand it to a man who then rapes it. They call it 'newborn porn'. The most terrible thing abut A Serbian Film is the way it tries to disguise its cheap exploitation tactics as some kind of social allegory of life in Serbia.

Retired porn star Milos (Srdjan Todorovic) is a man that knows little apart from how to please a girl, and audiences, on screen. Bored with his life, but happy with his wife and child, he is drawn into a mysterious new film by a whopping pay cheque. The movie's eccentric director, Vukmir (Sergej Trifunovic), keeps the production close to the chest, promising it to be a piece of high art and something that its audience is crying out for. Filming begins at an abandoned children's orphanage, and things take a downward turn from there as it becomes apparent that Milos has been drawn into a snuff movie.

I can appreciate the film's themes, certainly. With the availability of the internet and its most popular asset, porn (as well as other mediums of humiliation such as Youtube), has become so accessible that society has become obsessed with masochism and degradation. A Serbian Film attempts to challenge our desires by showing the most repulsive things that its director can come up with. So, we get to see a man raping his own six year-old son and the blood spattering from his anus and down his legs. How exactly is this repulsive imagery supposed to make us reflect? Perhaps if the cheap tactics weren't so laughably obvious and exploitative, this may have been a powerful message.

Even more disturbingly, A Serbian Film looks very nice. The cinematography, lighting, and even the acting is akin to your standard A-grade movie, so the film occasionally achieves a hint of atmosphere. But ultimately, this is from the Hostel School of Torture Porn, and revels too much in its own misery and blood-shed to take seriously. This is simply unpleasant viewing, which is fine, as long as it's relevant. I simply don't see how knocking a woman's teeth out and then choking her to death on an erect penis serves as a metaphor for Serbian society. I just don't buy it.


Directed by: Srdjan Spasojevic
Starring: Srdjan Todorovic, Sergej Trifunovic, Jelena Gavrilovic
Country: Serbia

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #687: 'Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa' (2013)

An Alan Partridge movie has been talked about and prayed for (by his fans) for years. The natural inclination when transferring a small-screen British sitcom character and moving them to the big screen is to take them out of their comfort zone, and involving them in some big event or disaster that usually ends up with them going to the U.S. for one reason or another. Yet with Partridge, his comedy is rooted in his small-town ideals and small-minded ignorance. You can't take Norfolk out of Partridge, nor can you take Partridge out of Norfolk. Thankfully, Norfolk is just where he stays, and his creator and inhabitant, Steve Coogan, along with frequent collaborator Armando Iannucci have created a script that is well worthy of everyone's favourite Abba enthusiast.

North Norfolk Digital is being taken over by conglomerate headed by shady suit Jason Tresswell (Nigel Lindsay). Station veteran Pat Farrell (Colm Heaney) fears losing his job and goes to Alan, his only 'friend' at the station, for help. Alan, naturally, gatecrashes a board meeting where, upon realising he could also face the sack, convinces them to 'Just Sack Pat'. Pat is fired, but returns at the office party with a rifle to take everybody hostage. Alan manages to flee, but is soon called in by the police, at the request of Pat, to act as a go-between. Alan obliges, and soon sees the opportunity for a career revival.

For a movie, things feel relatively low-key. There's no big stars shoe-horned in to increase ticket sales, nor is there any explosive action to speak of (although there is a hilarious Alan daydream where he imagines a shoot-out). This feels just like the TV show I'm Alan Partridge, only with better cinematography, and is all the better for it. Stars of British comedy normally find it difficult to transfer their success to the big screen (just ask Morecambe and Wise, Harry Enfield, and more recently, David Mitchell and Robert Webb) mainly because they overreach themselves, and end up losing what was so charming and appealing about their characters and comedy in the first place.

This is Alan as we know him - socially awkward, appallingly selfish, and unapologetically self-contained. It's not scream-out-loud funny, but it never really was (with some exceptions - "Smell my cheese!"). What makes Alan so fascinating, hilarious and strangely addictive is the fact that he is just like us, albeit more extreme and absurd. Yet Alan doesn't have the ability to stop and consider his ludicrousness before he says lines such as "We're asking what is the worst 'monger? Iron, fish, rumour, or war?" Coogan is fantastic in the role - he may be one of the finest comic actors this country has ever produced - making Alan somehow sympathetic even though the film doesn't offer any kind of straight-forward redemption for his character. But would we want him to, or would we prefer to see him forever embrace his eccentric nature? Or more importantly, does he deserve it?


Directed by: Declan Lowney
Starring: Steve Coogan, Colm Meaney, Nigel Lindsay, Sean Pertwee
Country: UK/France

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #686: 'The Godfather' (1972)

Having only been born 12 years after the release of The Godfather, I don't know if audiences at the time realised just how influential the film would become in later years. It has been homaged, parodied and copied so much - Don Corleone's husky voice and prominent chin especially - that it's a miracle it's managed to hold onto its status as one of the finest pictures Hollywood has ever produced. It's also rather astonishing that the film was ever made at all, given the troubled production amidst a meddling Paramount (who pretty much held a gun to director Francis Ford Coppola's head throughout). But watching it again, 41 years after it was made, it's just as beautiful and thrilling as it was when I first saw it.

Don Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando) is the Sicilian head of the Corleone crime family. His eldest son Sonny (James Caan) is his short-tempered and hot-headed heir, the polar opposite to the youngest son Michael (Al Pacino), who is college-educated and has just returned from serving in World War II. When the Don refuses an offer to invest in the booming drugs trade by drug baron Virgil 'The Turk' Sollozzo (Al Lettieri) - who is backed by Corleone rivals the Tattaglia's - he is gunned down and almost killed. With his father in hospital and still in danger, Michael finds himself slowly being drawn into the family business he vowed to stay away from.

Head of Paramount at the time Bob Evans said he wanted to "smell the spaghetti" and hired the relatively inexperienced Coppola, who is of Sicilian heritage, to direct the film, in order to give the film authenticity. From the opening scene, it is evident that the gamble paid off. The wedding of the Don's daughter, Connie (Talia Shire), is a textbook guide on how to introduce characters to an audience. This long, gorgeous segment of the film establishes the Corleone's sense of family importance. They are all cold-blooded killers, perhaps, but they are loyal and have a code. It's also fascinating to see the hierarchy within organised crime, something that seems embedded into our conscience now after countless films involving 'made' men and capo's.

But it's a combination of many elements that makes The Godfather so great. The patient, controlled approach, Coppola and novel author Mario Puzo's celebrated, Oscar-winning screenplay, Nino Rota's powerful score, the subtle dark comedy ("leave the gun, take the cannoli") the magnificent set-pieces (Michael searching for the gun in the cafe restroom is still nerve-jangling) , and perhaps most of all, the acting talent on display. Brando, Pacino and Robert Duvall (as adopted son and consigliere Tom Hagen) can boast career-defining performances from the picture, and can celebrate film careers spanning decades and countless awards. There's little I can say about The Godfather that hasn't already been said, but this is one of the true undisputed classics of American cinema.


Directed by: Francis Ford Coppola
Starring: Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, James Caan, Richard S. Castellano, Robert Duvall, Al Lettieri, Diane Keaton, Sterling Hayden
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #685: 'Thor: The Dark World' (2013)

One of the surprising successes to come out of Marvel's (now Disney's) ever-increasing catalogue of superhero CGI-fests, was 2011's Thor. Somehow Kenneth Branagh managed to avoid any possible silliness in the story of the super-powered, bleach-blonde Asgardian God battling against his greasy-haired brother and save Earth from destruction. Thor tended to stay away from the gold-plated, computer-generated tedium of Asgard and told a slightly comedic fish-out-of-water tale that was both charming and, even surprisingly, emotionally complex. The sequel, directed by HBO veteran Alan Taylor, spends less time on Earth and more time zapping around the other worlds that make up the universe's Nine Realms.

In a backstory-heavy introduction, we learn that a powerful 'Dark Elf' Malekith (Christopher Eccleston) was the leader of a powerful race that tried to use an energy source called the Aether to plunge the Nine Realms into darkness, but was overthrown by Thor's (Chris Hemsworth) grandfather, Bor. With Malekith defeated, Bor hides the Aether in a stone column, establishing a new era of peace across the Realms. On present-day Earth, Thor's old flame Jane Foster (Natalie Portman) accidentally discovers the Aether, which is absorbed into her body. Malekith, who has being lying dormant for years, is re-awoken by this event and seeks the Aether for himself, but not before Thor manages to whisk Jane back to Asgard.

It's a typically McGuffin-riddled story that Marvel have managed to turn into a multi-billion dollar franchise, that simply allows the superhero to get from point A to point B in order to face the new big baddie in town. The Dark World is a loud, convoluted and epilepsy-inducing mess of huge battles and CGI landscapes, but, even if you can't get your head around the ridiculous, head-spinning plot, it's sure entertaining. But what The Dark World lacks is the tongue-in-cheek charm of the first film, insisting on making the story and tone 'darker', and moves the action to the sickly world of Asgard.

What it does boast, is the return of the superb chemistry between Hemsworth and Tom Hiddleston, the latter as the imprisoned Loki, forced to reflect after the near-apocalypse of The Avengers (2012). It has been reported that Loki's involvement was beefed up significantly post-production, and his sneering, malevolent, yet wounded presence is welcome, especially when Thor is forced to team up with his brother to tackle Malekith. This, however, came at the expense of Eccleston's pointy-eared menace, whose back-story and screen-time were reduced so harshly that you almost forget he's there. Portman's Jane Foster is still, unfortunately, a bland bore, mad at Thor for not calling in two years. He was saving the world, love.

Ultimately, Thor: The Dark World is sporadically fun, punctured by moments of CGI tedium and head-spinning exposition (usually delivered by Anthony Hopkins' bored-looking Odin), that often evoke the unnecessary complexity of the rather painful Pirate of the Caribbean sequels. When the portals start appearing and the wrestling Thor and Malekith begin to throw each other between different worlds within the Nine Realms, I held my hands up and just gave up. And maybe this is the approach to take - just simply let it play out in front of your eyes, enjoy the charisma of Hemsworth - who delivers another delightful performance - and pray that someday Marvel will give Loki his own movie.


Directed by: Alan Taylor
Starring: Chris Hemsworth, Natalie Portman, Tom Hiddleston, Anthony Hopkins, Christopher Eccleston, Idris Elba, Kat Dennings, Stellan Skarsgård
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #684: 'Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs' (2009)

Based on the 1978 novel of the same name by Judi and Ron Barrett, directors Phil Lord and Chris Miller took the foundation of the literature and created a sort of 'origin' story. The book told of a fantastical town where it rained the inhabitant's daily meals until the portions span out of control, creating gigantic food storms and oversized grub. The film imagines this phenomena is caused by science-nut Flint Lockwood (Bill Hader), who after witnessing his small town getting shut off from the world and forced to eat nothing but sardines, thinks he can win the hearts of the townsfolk by creating a machine that turns water in the food of your choice.

At the opening of Sardine Land, hosted by Mayor Shelbourne (Bruce Campbell), Flint's contraption goes haywire and shoots off into the sky. Soon enough, pickles, buns and cheese are raining from the sky, which soon become full cheeseburgers. The townsfolk lap it up, plying Flint with requests, and even the intern reporter Sam Sparks (Anna Faris) starts to enjoy her pun-filled reports. That is until the machine starts to lose control and begins spewing out giant spaghetti tornado's and giant steaks.

Similar in a way to the Belgian madcap comedy A Town Called Panic, released the same year, Cloud With a Chance of Meatballs find most of it's charm in its relentless and hyperactive approach. Jokes litter both the foreground and background of the movie, producing some inventive, old-fashioned slapstick alongside some modern, more neurotic humour. It's an insane film at times, but there's a lot of genuine wit here. In a montage of Flint's failed inventions, we see televisions that walk to you on legs so you can change the channel, spray-on shoes that never come off, and ratbirds. The inventions are then seen throughout the film, either taking an active role in the plot or, in the television's case, looting the town's electronics store for an enjoyable throwaway gag.

But beneath all the frenetic energy, there's some heartfelt moments involving Flint's father (voiced by a gruff James Caan) who can't quite communicate with the son he doesn't understand. There is also some subtle commentary on humanity's wastefulness and penchant for greed. All the uneaten food gets flung miles over a hill so it can rot away out of sight, and as the dollar signs increase in size in Mayor Shelbourne's eyes, so does his waste size. The ending takes the disappointing route of continuing the current trend of animated films having overblown, action-packed climaxes, but if you can put that aside, there is a lot to savour here.


Directed by: Phil Lord, Christopher Miller
Voices: Bill Hader, Anna Faris, James Caan, Andy Samberg, Bruce Campbell, Mr. T, Benjamin Bratt, Neil Patrick Harris
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #683: 'Only God Forgives' (2013)

After the surprising success, both critically and commercially, of 2011's Drive, Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn has furthered his auteur aspirations with his difficult follow-up, Only God Forgives. Refn admitted in an interview that he gets a kick out of screen violence to an almost fetishistic degree, and, like Drive, Only God Forgives has moments of nightmarish violence set in a seedy criminal underworld.

Set in Bangkok, Thailand, Ryan Gosling plays Julian, a reserved young man who runs an underground boxing club as a front for his drug dealing business. His older brother Billy (Tom Burke) sets out one night with self-destructive tendencies, and rapes and murders and 16 year-old girl. The girl's father takes personal vengeance and kills Billy. Julian sets out for revenge himself, but after hearing the reasons for his brother's murder, realises that some kind of justice has been achieved and lets the man go. But with the arrival of Julian's peroxide-blonde, acid-tongued mother Crystal (Kristin Scott Thomas), Julian's hand is forced.

For a director so obviously eager to prove to everyone that he's some kind of film-making genius, Only God Forgives is surprisingly familiar in tone. Refn has gone to Thailand to make a Korean movie, full of abstract plot devices, a basic revenge premise, and some squirm-inducing, yet cartoonish scenes of torture and murder. One thing that cannot be denied is that the film looks absolutely beautiful. Like Gaspar Noe's Enter the Void (2009), this is a film seeped in neon-porn, and it's amazing how a bold flash of blue or red can make a scene instantly more wonderful to look at.

But the set design and cinematography aside, this is disappointingly empty movie, full of long moments of existential pondering and comically bad dialogue. The movie's antagonist, a crooked police chief named Chang (Vithaya Pansringarm), slices his way to his own form of justice, using a sword to execute and dismember his unfortunate victims. He is meant to be a vengeful God to Julian's sinner, and his appearances on screen are meant to fill us with dread, but instead only serves as a warning that more violence will soon implode. As a sort of idiosyncrasy, Chang sings karaoke as his police force watch him silently. It comes across a bit like Dean Stockwell in Blue Velvet (1986), but here it seems pretentious and just rather silly.

It's a real love-it-or-hate-it type of movie. On one hand, you have the technical brilliance that helps create a sleazy, slightly unnerving world, but on the other, you have the fact that this is a straight-to-DVD plot with some rather laughable dialogue. Kristin Scott Thomas, playing against type, gets to use the phrase 'cum dumpster' at an uncomfortable dinner with Julian and his 'girlfriend' Mai (Yayaying Rhatha Phongam). It all just feels like Refn is simply trying to antagonise his audience, but he really only insults them.


Directed by: Nicolas Winding Refn
Starring: Ryan Gosling, Kristin Scott Thomas, Vithaya Pansringarm, Yayaying Rhatha Phongam
Country: Denmark/France/Thailand/USA/Sweden

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #682: 'Weekend at Bernie's' (1989)

Time has the knack of breathing fresh new life into a former piece of crap. Nostalgia sets in with the fashions and the music of its era, and familiar faces re-appear after we have seen their careers gradually collapse. Unfortunately for Ted Kotcheff's Weekend at Bernie's, it is the same cringe-inducing, one-joke farce it was 24 years ago. There was a real chance for some dark comedy here, given that the set up isn't a bad idea if you have the correct writers behind it. However, Norman Mailer did not write Weekend at Bernie's, Robert Klane did, and he was responsible for such classics as National Lampoon's European Vacation (1985), Folks! (1992), and, most unforgivably, Weekend at Bernie's II (1993).

Larry (Andrew McCarthy) and Richard (Jonathan Silverman) are two young, eager lower-level employees at a New York insurance firm. When Richard discovers that an employee has stolen 2 million dollars from the company, he and Larry think they're on their way to a promotion and take the findings to their boss, Bernie (Terry Kiser). As a reward, Bernie invites them to stay at his island beach-house, but secretly, Bernie is behind the theft and has hired a mob hitman to take them both out. However, Bernie himself is assassinated for sleeping with the mob boss' wife, and with party-seeking friends quickly turning up at the beach-house, Larry and Richard must maintain the illusion that Bernie is still alive and well if they want to party.

It seems strange that their has never been (to my mind) a decent comedy involving a dead body. Perhaps the presence of a cadaver is too macabre a subject to raise any laughs, or, as with Weekend at Bernie's, there's not much you can do with it apart from move its limbs and head in an attempt to squeeze out some laughs. And that pretty much sums up this film, raising the question of how moronic can these people be to not realise Bernie is dead? Perhaps it's because, inexplicably, rigor mortis fails to set in at any point and his bowels do not drop. This may even be forgiven if we had anyone to root for, but, as hard as McCarthy and Silverman try, their characters are nothing more than incompetent goofballs chasing that ever-so-80's dream of climbing the corporate ladder. 100 minutes of pure pain.


Directed by: Ted Kotcheff
Starring: Andrew McCarthy, Jonathan Silverman, Catherine Mary Stewart, Terry Kiser
Country: USA

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #681: 'The World's End' (2013)

Finally wrapping up the collection of films now known as the 'Three Flavours Conetto' trilogy, Simon Pegg, Nick Frost and Edgar Wright have delved into sci-fi geekdom for inspiration for their final entry, The World's End. Where Shaun of the Dead (2004) was a swan-song to George A. Romero and his gift of zombies to the horror genre and Hot Fuzz (2007) was a homage to 1980's and 1990's action movies when the law were still cool, The World's End gives us a blue-blooded alien/robot invasion, reminiscent of John Carpenter, set amidst a legendary pub crawl.

Gary King (Pegg), a middle-aged alcoholic, decides that he and his childhood friends should meet up one more time to complete the pub crawl they failed to conquer twenty something years ago. The crawl consists of 12 pubs in their hometown of Newton Haven, ending at The World's End pub. Gary quickly gathers up the gang - Oliver "O-Man"Chamberlain (Martin Freeman), Steven Prince (Paddy Considine), Peter Page (Eddie Marsan), and, somewhat reluctantly, Andy Knightley (Frost) - and they set off on their quest only to discover that the town they grew up in has become overrun by pod people-type robots.

The thing that made the previous two films in the trilogy so enjoyable was the chemistry between its two leads, Simon Pegg and Nick Frost. In Shaun, they were both bumbling idiots, and in Fuzz, the dynamic was changed to keep things interesting, with Pegg playing the straight man, and Frost his starry-eyed but worryingly dim sidekick. Here, things are changed again with Frost becoming the straight man and Pegg the loutish idiot. Frost's Andy drinks water for the majority of the film and holds resentment for an unspoken event, therefore heightening the drama and adding dimensions to their relationship, but nevertheless steps on the comedy. With the chemistry missing, Pegg's Gary becomes slightly annoying and Andy is just a drag.

And here lies The World's End biggest problem - it just isn't that funny. Until the robots show up, there are only a handful of scenes capable of raising a smile, and the movie is actually quite slow. Shaun and Fuzz (this will be the last time I mention these, I promise) were packed full of visual and wordplay gags that benefited from repeat viewings, but The World's End was such a drag the first time around that I doubt will ever feel the need to watch it again. The supporting cast barely register, with only Considine's Steven getting a sub-plot, involving Oliver's sister Sam (Rosamund Pike) and some unspoken love.

But when the robots show up, the movie does pick up the pace. Although it's hardly a ground-breaking idea (it's pretty much The Body Snatchers with lager), watching Nick Frost twat a horde of robots with two bar stools could never be anything but thrilling. Most of the charm of the film comes from it's distinctive Britishness, and the out-there climax offers a surprisingly insightful commentary on what it means to be British - flaws, belligerence and all. These are some relatively minor achievements that manage to save the film from disaster, in what is ultimately a disappointing, unconvincing closing bookmark to what could have been a modern landmark in British comedy.


Directed by: Edgar Wright
Starring: Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, Martin Freeman, Paddy Considine, Eddie Marsan, Rosamund Pike, Pierce Brosnan, David Bradley, Michael Smiley
Country: UK

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie