Review #790: 'Trainspotting' (1996)

Has Britain ever produced a film so influential on pop culture? Whether it be the stylish posters, portraying it's various colourful characters in a manner of poses, decorated with that eye-catching use of orange and white, the use of title cards at the beginning of the film introducing us to the line-up of junkies, thugs and pushers who inhabit the film, or that memorable soundtrack, which tapped into the underground rave culture of the 1990's, Trainspotting was the most iconic film since 1994's Pulp Fiction. But, an alarming 18 years on, does Trainspotting still maintain it's raw power and grimy hipness? The answer is yes, with a touch of no.

Most of the controversy surrounding the film at the time was it's unflinching, and some would say glamorous, portrayal of heroin addiction. The opening 15 minutes is a relentless, highly energetic introduction to the Edinburgh drug scene, where addict Mark Renton (Ewan McGregor) informs us of the delights of heroin, a life choice for the characters in the film as opposed to the 2 point 4 children suburban life we're all meant to be striving for, where washing machines, dental insurance, and electric tin openers are necessities. Why does he prefer to spend time shooting drugs with a bunch of low-lives, sat in the squalor of a drug dealer's house? Who needs reasons when you've got heroin, Renton tells us.

But the style doesn't eclipse the substance. Director Danny Boyle, making his second film after the excellent Shallow Grave (1994), is wise enough to keep focus. Renton's life is fascinating and sometimes exciting to watch, but it doesn't make us want to move to a council estate in Edinburgh and spend time with these types of people. Renton's closest 'friends' include pimp Sick Boy (Jonny Lee Miller), an expert in James Bond trivia; the speed-addled Spud (Ewen Bremner); the clean-cut, weight-lifting Tommy (Kevin McKidd); and the sovereign-wearing, utterly terrifying psychopath Begbie (Robert Carlyle). And with heroin, comes destruction. Boyle shows us an overdose beautifully scored to Lou Reed's 'Beautiful Day', and a truly ugly cold turkey scene.

But the film has becomes a victim of it's own stylish choices. Back in 1996, Trainspotting felt fresh, exciting, and slightly dangerous, but it's been ripped-off so many times in such a lazy and poor fashion that it has become slightly dated. Just three years ago, another Irvine Welsh adaptation, Ecstacy, adopted the same poster layout as this. Don't get me wrong, Trainspotting is still an excellent film, it has just lost some of it's youthful vigour and confrontational attitude that served it so well almost two decades ago. McGregor is excellent: a charming, charismatic, yet often repulsive narrator akin to Malcolm McDowell's Alex DeLarge in A Clockwork Orange (1971), and his mug will no doubt decorate the walls of many a student house for years to come. Still one of the most important films to come out of Britain, just a slightly damaged one.


Directed by: Danny Boyle
Starring: Ewan McGregor, Ewen Bremner, Jonny Lee Miller, Kevin McKidd, Robert Carlyle, Kelly Macdonald, Peter Mullan
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #789: 'Calvary' (2014)

Following 2011's wildly entertaining The Guard, John Michael McDonagh continues his dissection of Ireland with Calvary. But there's little of the former's laugh-out-loud humour, and certainly no slow-motion action set-pieces or stylish editing. Calvary feels like the work of a developing auteur, taking giant strides after a highly successful indie debut (The Guard is Ireland's most successful export ever, financially speaking), and creating a deep, meaningful film which is capable of going to some very dark places indeed. Brendan Gleeson again takes the lead, and with his performance as Father James, a good-natured priest given a week to live, he proves that he is one of Britain's acting giants.

The film begins with Father James being visited by an unseen man for a confession. "I first tasted semen when I was 7 years old," the man says, much to the priest's shock. He talks about his sexual abuse as a child at the hands of a priest, and how his desire for revenge rages inside of him. It would be no good killing a bad priest, so he's going to kill Father James instead, because he is a good man. Father James has a week to get his house in order, and is to meet his killer the following Sunday on the beach. James doesn't go to the police, and knows perfectly well who the mystery man is. Instead, he tends to his flock and cares for his suicidal daughter (Kelly Reilly), as his world begins to crumble around him.

Set in a small village in County Sligo, Father James's community is a tightly-knit one. Although the village's inhabitants show up for Mass every week, they show little but contempt and ridicule for the good Father. There's a butcher (Chris O'Dowd) who is suspected of beating up his wife (Orla O'Rourke) for openly cheating on him with an Ivorian immigrant (Issach De Bankole). There's also a surgeon (Aidan Gillen), an aggressively cynical man; a death's-door writer (M. Emmet Walsh) who wishes the end his own life whilst he is still control of it; a socially-inept young horndog (Killian Scott); a stinking-rich businessman (Dylan Moran) who is drinking himself to death; and a strange police chief (Gary Lydon) who frequently frolics with a young male prostitute (Owen Sharpe).

Their scenes play out in multi-layered conversations, slowly unravelling their own grievances with the Church, as the film tries to keep you guessing the identity of Father James's killer. But this soon loses it's importance as James's motivations for apparently willingly drifting towards his death come to the fore. It's no coincidence that the only characters who act with a mutual respect or affection for the priest aren't Irish. The well-documented abuse cases at the hands of Catholic paedophile priests has ruined the Church's reputation, and James goes through the film being mocked, threatened, and in one scene, has a lit cigarette flicked at him as a means to end a conversation.

Yet unlike last year's Philomena, this doesn't bash or condemn the Church. Ultimately, the sympathy lies with Father James, who is a decent man who tries to help people even when he's the subject of aggression. He's flawed, certainly. A recovering alcoholic, prone to violent tempers, he unknowingly neglected his daughter when his wife passed on his road to priestdom. When he comes across a little girl on a country lane for some idle chatter, her father races up and quickly ushers her away. His faith is unshaken but he cannot help embodying something so profoundly damaged and now so closely related to those unspeakable revelations. Calvary is a grand work by a director fearlessly working towards potential greatness.


Directed by: John Michael McDonagh
Starring: Brendan Gleeson, Chris O'Dowd, Kelly Reilly, Aidan Gillen, Dylan Moran, Isaach De Bankolé, M. Emmet Walsh, Orla O'Rourke
Country: Ireland/UK

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #788: 'Maleficent' (2014)

Anyone who has seen Disney's Sleeping Beauty (1959) will no doubt remember the horned wicked sorceress that is Maleficent. She appears only briefly, but her extremely dark persona and complete lack of empathy make her a memorable and intriguing Disney villain. Maleficent the film continues the trend of allowing female fairytale antagonists to tell their side of the story, as well as Hollywood's desire to re-make every film ever made that was ever a success. Disney is sitting on a treasure-trove of beloved stories, all ripe for 're-imagination' and money-making. But, cynicism aside, Maleficent is actually not that bad, thanks mainly to a purring performance by Angelina Jolie as the titular witch.

Opening in the CGI-heavy world of the Moors, we meet a young girl with mighty wings. She is Maleficent, the fairy-queen who is one with the strange-but-loveable beasties and natural kingdom all around her, which borders the land of men. She meets a young man named Stefan, and the two becomes friends and eventually fall in love. As they grow older, Stefan stops visiting the Moors, and when he becomes an adult (Sharlto Copley), begins to work for the greedy King Henry (Kenneth Cranham). Henry, terrified of Maleficent's magical power, declares war, only to be beaten back by Maleficent and her army of tree creatures.

On his death-bed, the King announces that whoever kills her will become his heir. Stefan, befriending Maleficent, tricks her into drinking a sleeping potion and, unable to kill her, cuts off her wings and brings them to his king. Years later, with Stefan now king and announcing the birth of his daughter, Aurora, Maleficent gets her vengeance by gate-crashing the party and cursing the child with the dreaded spinning wheel spell, promising release only by true love's kiss, something she knows not to exist. As Aurora is cared for in the woods, Maleficent watches closely, and sees Aurora (Elle Fanning) grow into a person capable of uniting the two lands.

Directed by visual effects artist Robert Stromberg (who won Oscars for his Art Design on Avatar (2009) and Alice in Wonderland (2010)), Maleficent has spectacular special effects, but the world it takes place in feels almost entirely soulless and fails to capture the magic created by those using a pencil 55 years ago. The story often goes to dark places, but it's difficult to care about the characters that inhabit the film, who aren't allowed to develop any extra dimensions other than the ones they were given in Disney's original vision. However, Maleficent, in the hands of Jolie, dominates the film as expected. She manages to juggle the understandable darkness brewing inside of her character as well as the humane, caring side. The film may be good-looking nonsense, but it's nice to have an interesting, morally grey female lead in a mainstream film for once.


Directed by: Robert Stromberg
Starring: Angelina Jolie, Elle Fanning, Sharlto Copley, Lesley Manville, Imelda Staunton, Juno Temple, Sam Riley, Kenneth Cranham
Country: USA/UK

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #787: 'The Guard' (2011)

To paraphrase The Guard's FBI Agent Wendell Everett (Don Cheadle), this movie is either really motherfuckin' smart, or really motherfuckin' dumb. Having laughed my way throughout the majority of it, my feet are firmly in the former camp, with Brendan Gleeson's towering performance and writer/director John Michael McDonagh's extremely witty script make this one of the most under-appreciated movies of 2011. It is, on the surface, a simple fish out of water story crossed with a mismatched buddy comedy. But with a self awareness that brings to mind Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005), The Guard often feels like it's more intelligent than it's letting on, similar in many ways to it's morally shady protagonist.

Gerry Boyle (Gleeson) is not your everyday Garda (Gaelic for 'policeman') . As he expressionlessly watches a car load of weed-toking yoofs crash and die, he helps himself to the insides of their pockets and finds some acid, which he promptly swallows without thinking twice. He cares about his terminally ill mother, so we know he's at least not all bad. His laid-back attitude to law enforcement is threatened by the arrival of the eager Aidan McBride (Rory Keenan) from Dublin, as well as a murder that may point to the work of an occult serial killer. There's also more drugs on the streets than ever before, but Gerry enjoys those almost as much as he enjoys his hookers.

If the witty yet crass dialogue spouting from this grumpy collections of Irishmen sounds somewhat familiar, then this is probably because John Michael's brother Martin McDonagh penned and directed In Bruges (2008), which also starred Gleeson. In my opinion, The Guard is better and certainly funnier. Most of the humour stems from Gerry himself and the way he plays with the characters he interacts with as much as the audience themselves. With the news that international drug traffickers are heading to Connemara to make a multi-million (or billion, no-one seems to know) dollar deal, FBI Agent Everett arrives to brief the guard's on the situation. When the dealers appear on the projector as Liam Cunningham and Mark Strong, Gerry's response is "But I thought all drug-dealers were black?".

It may seem somewhat bad taste humour, but the way Gleeson delivers his lines, and the reaction by Cheadle (who plays the straight-man extremely well), make for comedy gold. Gerry is everything Everett despises - bigoted, ignorant - but the loathing changes to curiosity as he witnesses Gerry do some good police work and appears to be the only one who cares. Is he putting on an act to catch people off-guard? Is he really an idiot with a natural instinct for detective work? Or is he a bit both? I can forgive it's formulaic shoot-out ending for suspicion that it may be mocking the type of films it's emulating. After all, this is a fish-out-of-water-story where the main character verbally acknowledges that he's in a fish-out-of-water story. I'm sticking with really motherfuckin' smart.


Directed by: John Michael McDonagh
Starring: Brendan Gleeson, Don Cheadle, Liam Cunningham, Mark Strong, Rory Keenan, Fionnula Flanagan, Katarina Cas
Country: Ireland

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #786: 'Sleeping Beauty' (1959)

If there's one thing that separates the classic Disney era from it's modern efforts, then it was their ability to truly bring a fairytale to life. The moral and narrative simplicity of the fairytale formula is now portrayed somewhat cynically, with their black-and-white ethics and la-de-da princesses receiving a lampooning in the likes of Shrek (2001) and Enchanted (2007). Although this can make for clever and amusing viewing, it makes it easy to forget how beguiling these stories can be. Sleeping Beauty is one of Disney's finest, and a perfect example of how the make-believe world of witches, fairies, kings and princesses can truly enthral and fill a young heart with wonder.

King Stefan and Queen Leah welcome the birth of their daughter, Princess Aurora (Mary Costa), and invite their subjects to pay homage at their castle. The baby is thrice blessed by the three good fairies, Flora (Verna Felton), Fauna (Barbara Jo Allen) and Merryweather (Barbara Luddy), until the evil sorceress Maleficent (Eleanor Audley) gate-crashes the party. Maleficent curses the princess and announces that on her sixteenth birthday, she will prick her finger on a spinning wheel and die. The curse is dented somewhat when Merryweather intercepts, meaning that Aurora will not die, but will fall into an eternal sleep unless she receives true love's kiss.

Inspired by the Brothers Grimm's Little Briar Rose and The Sleeping Beauty by Charles Perrault, the film, under the directorial supervision of Clyde Geronimi, has some of the finest animation work ever put out by Disney. The last Disney film to use hand-inked cells, animators Marc Davis, Milt Kahl, Frank Thomas, Ollie Johnston, John Lounsbery, Wolfgang Reitherman and Eric Larson, create a beautiful world reminiscent of the colourful Medievals film that were so popular in the 1950's, when Technicolor was a-booming. The climax, which sees the horned demon Maleficent turn into a dragon, was revolutionary in it's day and is still unnervingly striking today. The romance between Aurora and her betrothed - the amusingly named Prince Phillip (Bill Shirley) - is rather unconvincing and wishy-washy, but it does little damage to a movie that is a delight from start to finish.


Directed by: Clyde Geronimi
Voices: Mary Costa, Bill Shirley, Eleanor Audley, Verna Felton, Barbara Luddy, Barbara Jo Allen
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #785: 'Beyond the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens' (1979)

With his final big-screen movie, the Sergei Eisenstein of skin-flicks, Russ Meyer, festoons Beyond the Valley of The Ultra-Vixens with his usual cynical and scornful look at small-town Americana. With the birth of video-tape and audiences preferences leaning in favour of penetrative, hard-core porn, Meyer bowed out with dignity, refusing to bow down to audience demand and lower himself to such a cheap and easy form of entertainment (although he would briefly return over twenty years later with Pandora Peaks (2001)). All the Meyer traits are here - blockhead male chauvinists, sex-mad townsfolk, a grizzled narrator, women blessed in the mammary gland area - and are loosely stringed together in what makes up the 'story'.

Set in the small town of, er, Small Town, USA, our narrator, The Man From Small Town USA (Stuart Lancaster), shows us all it's wacky inhabitants. There's a well-endowed evangelical radio preacher (Ann Marie) who has sex inside of a coffin, a man-eating junk-yard owner (June Mack), and a randy dentist/marriage counsellor (Robert E. Pearson). In the centre of it all is the beautiful, big-breasted Lavonia (Kitten Natividad) and her lug-head husband Lamar (Ken Kerr). They are happy enough, only Lavonia's unquenchable thirst for sex and Lamar's preference to 'entering through the back door' means that they must find themselves before they can finally 'come together'. 

Co-written with Roger Ebert, Beyond the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens is less a story and more a collection of comic, fruity vignettes. Some of sharp, energetic and funny, others can be plodding. The satire is less sharp here than in his better movies, for instance Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970) or Up! (1976), but his admiration of the female form is possibly clearer here than any of his other movies. He's often called anti-feminist, but, with Meyer, it's the women who hold all the power, outwitting and overpowering the numb-nut males, even raping one, a 14-year old boy I may add, in one scene. He certainly doesn't seem to mind though. It's often delightful and even titillating, but ultimately lacks the sharpness and daring of Meyer's best work.

Directed by: Russ Meyer

Starring: Kitten Natividad, Ken Kerr, Ann Marie, June Mack, Stuart Lancaster

Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #784: 'Locke' (2013)

Ever been stuck on a motorway at night, anxious to reach your destination, and with the sounds of "are we there yet?" running through your mind? Locke is a British drama by director/screenwriter Steven Knight, the man responsible for Dirty Pretty Things (2002) and Eastern Promises (2007) which takes place entirely in the miserable setting of the M1, and in fact never, with the exception of the opening minute or so, leaves it's protagonist's car. It could easily be dismissed as a narrative trick, a gimmick films often use to elevate it's dull story. But the claustrophobic and dreary setting serves a purpose, a portal into the mind of it's eponymous hero, charismatically performed by the magnetic Tom Hardy, in what is surely his best performance.

On the night before Europe's largest-ever concrete pour (outside of military and nuclear projects), construction foreman Ivan Locke (Hardy) throws his hi-vis and boots into his BMW, and sets off on what will turn out to be a traumatic journey from Birmingham to London. His boss, saved in Locke's phone as 'Bastard', is pissed at Locke for abandoning his post, and duly fires him. Determined not see his work fall apart, he stays in touch with Irish friend Donal (Andrew Scott), who carries out Locke's instructions. He also has news for his wife (Ruth Wilson), who is waiting with his children to watch an important football match. Armed with just Bluetooth and his beloved work binder, it will be a night that sees Locke's carefully constructed world fall apart.

It's hard to describe the plot without revealing too much. Locke's situation lacks originality and complexity, but the film holds your attention with the way the many phone calls he makes slowly begin to claw away at a man whose life, until now, has been a well-constructed success. Such a confined narrative structure demands a great performance, and Hardy, shedding the hard-man persona he developed in the likes of Bronson (2008) and The Dark Knight Rises (2012), delivers it with aplomb. With nowhere for the camera to go apart from the occasional glimpse of the road, Hardy holds the screen throughout. Some things don't quite work, such as Locke talking to his dead father (a moment that reeks of lazy exposition), but for a film about a man in a car talking on the phone to people we never see, it's often gripping stuff.


Directed by: Steven Knight
Starring: Tom Hardy, Olivia Colman, Ruth Wilson, Andrew Scott
Country: UK/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #783: 'Dead Man's Shoes' (2004)

The revenge thriller is a rather tired old goat. Man is wronged, man changes, man gets revenge. That's how it usually plays out. But every now and then a film will come out of the blue, subverting or at least twisting our premature expectations, while still delivering the same thrills we know from the very best of the genre. Positioned somewhere between revenge horror and kitchen-sink drama, Shane Meadows' Dead Man's Shoes is a dark, violent, yet often very funny story of an ex-soldier out to get the group of low-lives who bullied his mentally retarded brother, anchored by two outstanding performances from Paddy Considine and Toby Kebbell.

Richard (Considine) is not a traditional hero. His intentions aren't to use stealth and mystery to confuse and take down his targets; the gang, headed by drug-dealer Sonny (Gary Stretch), figure out who he is straight away, and don't take long to cross his path. Richard tells them to watch out and that he's coming for them, and tells them where to find him. His aggression, combined with Considine's imposing performance, makes for a terrifying character. Richard has shacked up in a nearby farm with his brother Anthony (Kebbell), the victim of Sonny and the gang's cruel sadism. Most of the action stays away from Richard, and we spend most of the time with Herbie (Stuart Wolfenden), Soz (Neil Bell) and Tuff (Paul Sadot), Sonny's low-level drug dealers.

It's in these scenes where Meadows' skill for dialogue and working realism into his actors performances really shines. The gang, with the exception of Sonny, become rather likeable, their idiocy and incompetence making for several laugh-out-loud moments, causing Richard's evolution into the beast of the story more convincing and effective. The rural town in the Peak District in which the film is set plays like a character in itself. At first glance it's an idyllic retreat, a perfect setting for a show like Midsomer Murders, but the film opens it up and reveals it's underlying ugliness, much like the monster surfacing from it's protagonist. It has it's flaws - often the film's budgetary constraints lead to unconvincing moments - but Dead Man's Shoes is raw, unflinching. sad, and, in the end, shocking.


Directed by: Shane Meadows
Starring: Paddy Considine , Gary Stretch, Toby Kebbell, Stuart Wolfenden, Neil Bell, Paul Sadot
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #782: 'Wake in Fright' (1971)

One of the pioneering films of the Australian New Wave, Ted Kotcheff's Wake in Fright was released in 1971 to widespread critical acclaim after a number of successful festival screenings. It was then lost for nearly 40 years, found by the film's editor Anthony Buckley in a bin marked 'for destruction'. The New Wave, which eventually gave birth to Ozploitation, showed polar opposite views of Australia. The likes of Peter Weir and Nicholas Roeg portrayed the country's mystical, spiritual beauty, while movies like Mad Dog Morgan (1976) and Mad Max (1979) exploited the country's rough-and-tumble reputation.

Wake in Fright is somewhere in between - a nightmarish journey into the heart of man's primitive instincts, and into a country in which the inhabitants of back-road towns welcome you with aggressive hospitality. Yet there's something oddly alluring about the sweaty, dusty streets of Bundanyabba ('The Yabba') and it's collection of disturbingly eccentric gamblers and alcoholics. Gary Bond's mild-mannered schoolteacher, John Grant, finds himself in The Yabba on route to Sydney to see his girlfriend, but circumstance and insistence means he can't get out. It's simple-minded townsfolk and excessive beer-swilling attitudes repulse him, but the animal inside of him becomes addicted, and he ends up losing all of his money on a simple game of heads-and-tails.

God bless the persistence of Anthony Buckley, as Wake in Fright is a terrifying masterpiece. At times, it's incredibly difficult to watch. It's a relentless barrage of warm beer, unbearable heat and extreme masculinity, where the only cure to a head-pounding hangover is to gulp more warm beer. Grant meets Doc Tydon (Donald Pleasence - never better), an alcoholic doctor who left his home and job to take residence in the Yabba, a place where his drunken, often violent behaviour is not only accepted, but gives him a social standing, and his idiosyncrasies are celebrated. Doc is Grant's mirror-image, or at least an image of who he could become if he doesn't manage to leave the hell-hole. Doc doesn't need money to survive, he lives on kangaroo stew and favours.

Most of the film's controversy stems from the infamous kangaroo hunt, in which many of the creatures are blasted apart by Doc, Grant, and two other men. This scene is less stomach-churning than the scenes in Cannibal Holocaust (1980), but is a hundred times more unnerving. But there's an odd beauty to the scene, especially when one of the group decides to take one on with a knife in a thrilling encounter. And that sums Wake in Fright up, its utterly repellent, yet you can't take your eyes away. The Yabba's inhabitants celebrate everything with a drink, gulp it down like there's no tomorrow, and are completely perplexed if you refuse. It's ugly, brutal stuff about man's potential for ugliness and brutality, but also a commentary on man's natural primal urges. I now have three reasons never to visit Australia - spider, snakes, and The Yabba.


Directed by: Ted Kotcheff
Starring: Gary Bond, Donald Pleasence, Chips Rafferty, Sylvia Kay, Jack Thompson
Country: Australia/USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #781: 'Godzilla' (2014)

Flicking the memory of Roland Emmerich's disastrous 1998 Godzilla movie away with it's mighty finger, Gareth Edwards' 2014 re-imagining is an altogether mightier and maturer beast. The biggest question stemming from message boards and critic reviews alike, is whether the colossal lizard is seen, or even glimpsed, enough. Anyone who saw 2013's incredibly dull monster/machine pile-up Pacific Rim will surely be aware that more is not necessarily better, and CGI is soulless without a heart. So my answer to that question would be a yes, as although Edwards teases us perhaps one time too many, when the beast finally roars, it's spine-tingling.

The screenplay by Max Borenstein, based on a story by Dave Callaham, opts not to have the King of the Monsters the result of nuclear testing, but one of many ancient creatures laying low, feeding on the energy from the Earth's core. In 1999, scientists Ishiro Serizawa (Ken Watanabe) and Vivienne Graham (Sally Hawkins) discover the skeleton of a giant creature in a collapsed mine, and two pods. One pod has broken open and left a trail leading into the sea, and the other remains dormant. In Japan, unusual seismic activity causes a nuclear power plant to leak radioactive steam, killing the wife of plant supervisor Joe Brody (Bryan Cranston). Fifteen years later, Joe's son, bomb disposal expert Ford (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), returns to Japan to find his father still obsessing over the unexplained events that led to his wife's death.

This sounds like a lot of plot for a movie primarily about giant, rampaging creatures. The director previously made Monsters (2010), a low-budget, very human drama about a world facing an alien invasion, only the focus was on the romantic relationship between it's two leads. Edwards clearly isn't interested in simply blowing shit up for our amusement, he wants us to care for the people dodging the flying cars and falling skyscrapers. It's an admirable approach, and is careful not to serve up stock chin-stroking villains or supporting characters you are waiting for to croak, but does make the mistake of offering one-dimensional archetypes as our protagonists. We have our square-jawed lead, our brilliant but possibly mad scientist, and even an expository ethnic character to make sure we're keeping up with the plot.

There's also the problem of Taylor-Johnson, who although is a perfectly likeable actor, does not have leading-man chops. This combined with his thinly-written character makes it incredibly difficult to get caught up in his long journey back to his loving wife (Elizabeth Olsen) and child (Carson Bolde). But while the film may often move at a snail's pace, it is never boring. Though the titular giant takes his time before popping his head up out of the water, there's two other bat-like creatures causing havoc, usually seen from the ground-up or on news reports, heightening the tension by creating a sense of realism. It's a very modern-day Gojira, developing it's own mythology yet appeasing fans of the beast's many incarnations, and no doubt frustrating those wanting to see an epic CGI smack-down. For a truly satisfying experience, just check out Ishiro Honda's 1954 original.


Directed by: Gareth Edwards
Starring: Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Elizabeth Olsen, Bryan Cranston, Ken Watanabe, Sally Hawkins, David Strathairn, Juliette Binoche
Country: USA/Japan

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #780: 'The Holy Mountain' (1973)

A man dressed like Christ wakes up drenched in his own urine and with a face full of flies. He is awoken and nursed by a group of naked children and an amputee dwarf, the latter of whom accompanies the man into town where people are getting executed and raped while rich tourists take photographs and clap. The Spanish invasion of Mexico is played out with toads and lizards as a crowd watches. Fat men dressed like Romans sell religious paraphernalia, and, after noticing the man's resemblance to Jesus, get him drunk and use his body to make moulds of Jesus on the cross. The man awakens, surrounded by images of himself on the cross. He screams and begins to smash the figures with his bare hands. After this, things begin to get really weird.

Hot off the success of his Midnight Movie, the psychedelic, ultra-violent El Topo (1970), Alejandro Jodorowsky was given a decent budget for his follow-up. Experimenting with sleep deprivation, spiritualist meditation and, of course, LSD, the result would be one of the most visually arresting films ever made, and also one of the strangest. The target is religion, but more of man's interpretation of religion to suit his own needs. The Holy Mountain of the title is the key to immortality, but the collection of capitalists, exploiters and thugs who embark on the journey seek all the answers in order to escape the horrors of the world they're directly responsible for.

Jodorowsky has a real gift for the image. Whether it's the sublime, kitsch interiors of the Alchemist's (Jodorowsky himself) room, located at the top of a huge tower which the man dressed like Jesus, billed as the Thief (Horacio Salinas), has to ascend perched on a giant hook, or the truly grotesque sight of flayed goats paraded around a town on poles, he knows how to grab your attention. The film switches gleefully between horror, satire, farce and sometimes camp, like the machine that needs to be penetrated sexually with a huge electric phallus before it will open and allow you to operate it. This scene is part of a collection of vignettes that makes up the central section, as we meet the seven chosen to journey to The Holy Mountain.

Unseen for around 30 years, The Holy Mountain found itself in distribution purgatory, until it was recently re-released and given the sort of remastering it deserved. It is a kaleidoscope of acid-trip imagery, and Jodorowsky throws politics, sociology and history into the mix to make one enlightening experience. Embracing the free-form storytelling of Federico Fellini and, especially, Luis Bunuel, it may frustrate with it's lack of narrative structure, but artists like Jodorowsky shouldn't be shackled with such formalities. Scandalous, beautiful, horrifying and often baffling, The Holy Mountain is an experience that will no doubt remain with you for days, possibly longer, but whatever your view, it's like nothing you've seen before.


Directed by: Alejandro Jodorowsky
Starring: Alejandro Jodorowsky, Horacio Salinas, Zamira Saunders, Juan Ferrara
Country: Mexico/USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #779: 'Starred Up' (2013)

Us Brits' strange obsession with alpha-male's and the violent criminal underworld has led the film industry to churn out endless gangster and prison movies, with each DVD cover adorned with some meaty Z-list actor sticking his fingers up or trying to look intimidating. Starred Up, based on writer Jonathan Asser's experiences working as a prison counsellor, has Jack O'Connell's shirtless young offender staring menacingly out on it's poster, and you would be forgiven to assume this was yet another movie destined for the bargain bin. But you would be wrong, as Starred Up is a refreshing pitbull of a movie.

Eric Love (O'Connell) is transferred, or 'starred up', two years early to adult prison from a young offenders institution. It doesn't take long for him to become involved in a fight with another prisoner, and he is thrown in solitary as a result. In this world of macho men, he finds a surrogate father in therapist Oliver (Rupert Friend), a well-educated type who 'needs' to help these prisoners as a way of lending meaning to his own life. But Eric's biological father, Neville (Ben Mendelsohn), is locked up there with him, and feels a different approach is needed to conquer this animalistic young man. Eric, however, has his own plans, which is to take on everybody who stands in his way.

What is so fascinating about Starred Up is its attention to detail. Seconds after being locked into his cell, Eric sets about defending himself by creating a makeshift shank out of a toothbrush and a shaving razor, designed not to stab, but to slice (we see it's full effect later in the film). This is a world in which you have to punch, kick and head-butt to survive, and one in which Eric is clearly (and tragically) familiar with. But it's not only the violent nature and general feeling of unease that makes the film so thrilling, it's the father-son dynamic between Eric, Neville and Oliver, played out without a shred of sentimentality or a morality message. They both clearly care for Eric, but Neville is psychopath and Oliver finds his liberal approach frequently obstructed by the brutality of the deputy governor (Sam Spruell).

Towards the end, it struggles by thinking that the film needs to have a conventional climax. It moves over into dramatic thriller territory, and slightly betrays its roots in realism. Spruell's character throughout is rather one-note - a suited, arrogant political climber whose self-image always comes ahead of the needs of his inmates. Such clichés are not called for, but doesn't do much damage to the overall gut-punch of the film. O'Connell is a star in the making, handsome enough to be a superstar someday, yet talented and charismatic enough to actually deserve it. His performance here is outstanding, as are the ever-reliable Mendelsohn and a sensitive Friend. One of the most pleasant surprises of the year, injecting life into a tired genre.


Directed by: David Mackenzie
Starring: Jack O'Connell, Ben Mendelsohn, Rupert Friend, Sam Spruell
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie