Review #1,160: 'Manchester by the Sea' (2016)

Writer/director Kenneth Lonergan hadn't made a movie for 11 years before Manchester by the Sea, a sombre drama that began to draw attention during a critically successful festival run. Receiving acclaim for You Can Count On Me back in 2000 before moving on to Margaret in 2005, the latter film spent five years in post-development hell due to a lack of budget and multiple lawsuits before limping into theatres in 2011. Such a frustrating experience would normally cause a director to fade into obscurity, but Lonergan has returned with a bang with one of the finest films of the year to prove that he is a film-maker of unfathomable potential.

The withdrawn Lee Chandler (Casey Affleck) is a janitor working in Quincy, Massachusetts, spending his days fixing leaky pipes, taking out the garbage, shovelling snow, and generally taking whatever shit the tenants of the apartment block he works in dishes out. Living in a tiny, one-bed room, Lee is quiet but prone to violent outbursts, spending most nights drinking away whatever sorrows rest on his shoulders and starting fights with anybody who looks at him the wrong way. One day, he receives a phone call and is informed that his brother Joe (Kyle Chandler, coincidentally sharing the same surname as his character) has suffered a heart attack. By the time he arrives in his hometown of Manchester-by-the-Sea, Joe has passed away, and Lee is tasked with arranging the funeral and putting his brother's affairs in place.

I've admired Casey Affleck ever since I saw Good Will Hunting (1997) and later in his brother Ben's thrilling Gone Baby Gone (2007). But his performance in Andrew Dominik's The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford ultimately convinced me that he is one of the finest actors of his generation, and I felt that he deserved to beat the lauded Javier Bardem to the Oscar that year. Deservedly, he won Best Actor for his work here. It's a rare skill for an actor to be able to portray such a range of emotions when massively underplaying the part. Lee is as bottled-up as one can get, clearly reaching the point of just not giving a fuck anymore. When he returns to town, people whisper his name with both anger and sympathy. Something has happened to turn him into a socially-awkward, sullen shadow of a man, but Lonergan chooses to reveal the past slowly through flashbacks.

In smaller roles, Chandler, Michelle Williams and Gretchen Mol are also as impressive as expected, but, Affleck aside, the majority of the screen-time is given to Lucas Hedges as Joe's son Patrick, who is now placed into the care of a reluctant Lee. Patrick doesn't react to his father's passing as one would expect, and instead remains a chirpy, outgoing teenager proud to have two girlfriends on the go. It's a lively, highly charismatic performance, and the complete opposite to the mopey young adult I was expecting. Themes of grief and regret run throughout the film, but the relationship between Lee and Patrick provides many moments of warmth and much-needed humour. Most writers would opt for award-baiting, tear-jerking moments of emotional outpouring, but Lonergan understands that life is rarely like that, and some wounds simply do not heal. The power of Manchester by the Sea lies within this honesty, with the windy, snowy backdrop acting almost as a window into its characters' souls.


Directed by: Kenneth Lonergan
Starring: Casey Affleck, Lucas Hedges, Michelle Williams, Kyle Chandler, Gretchen Mol
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,159: 'Moana' (2016)

While Walt Disney Animation Studios have been providing escapism for both children and adults since the 1930s, their attitudes towards more 'exotic' cultures and portrayal of certain racial stereotypes - especially in their early days - have always raised an eyebrow. Perhaps this is why they are now leading the charge in diversity, and after gobbing up billion-dollar franchises and taking them underneath their wing are now dishing up hugely successful blockbusters led by strong-willed heroines and multi-ethnic ensembles. Following the unexpectedly poignant Zootopia earlier this year, the studio have struck gold once again with Moana, a dazzling if comfortable step back into more traditional Disney territory.

As the daughter of chief Tui (Temuera Morrison) of the Polynesian island Motunui, the young and naturally curious Moana (Auli'i Cravalho) has a duty to remain with her family to watch over her people. But she has dreams of sailing out to sea to explore the unknown lands beyond the horizon, and it would seem that the sea agrees with her, as it parts to reveal a precious stone early on before her father insists that she return home. The island has always provided everything the inhabitants need to survive and flourish, but without warning, fish numbers are starting to dwindle and the coconuts are rotting, and it would seem that an age-old fable of the theft of island goddess Te Fiti's heart is to blame. The story names powerful demigod Maui as the thief, and tells how he was later shipwrecked by a lava demon after losing the heart and his magical fish hook. Defying her father's wishes, Moana goes in search of Maui to restore the heart and save her island from starvation.

Written by, amongst others, Disney legends Ron Clements and John Musker, Moana is incredibly straight-forward, reaching back to the likes of The Little Mermaid (1989), Aladdin (1992) and Hercules (1997) for a proven formula that served them so well during the studio's renaissance. The film often reflects on this, with Maui (voiced by Dwayne Johnson, who always sings and does it well) pointing out that although she may not be a princess per se, she has the look, spirit and animal sidekick to fit the profile. It doesn't take long to pick up on the fact that you're not watching anything striving for originality, but you'll be too taken aback by the gorgeous visuals on show and the stellar voice acting bringing these familiar Disney archetypes to life to care. Very much a warmer companion piece to Frozen (2013), Moana feels both classical and very modern.

Also like Frozen, there are many memorable tunes to enjoy, here by Broadway composer and playwright Lin-Manuel Miranda and Oceanic musician Opetaia Foa'i, although none of which will reach the dizzy heights of 'Let It Go'. One particularly toe-tapping number comes from Jemaine Clement as a treasure-hording crab, whose unmistakably Flight of the Conchords-esque twang may suggest he had more input that simply providing the vocal chords. Yet for all the jaw-dropping animation and comic relief prat-falls of pet rooster Heihei (Alan Tudyk), the main strength of Moana is Moana herself; stubborn, intelligent and incredibly capable, she doesn't rely on men to save the day, nor does she get distracted by a love interest. It's here that Disney manage to subtly subvert expectations without rubbing your face in it, creating a well-rounded and believable character in the process. An extremely worthy addition to Disney's princess canon, Moana proves that a dose of heart and imagination can reignite even the most done-to-death of formulas.


Directed by: Ron Clements, John Musker
Voices: Auli'i Cravalho, Dwayne Johnson, Rachel House, Temuera Morrison, Jemaine Clement, Alan Tudyk
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,158: 'Hacksaw Ridge' (2016)

Whatever your opinion is of Mel Gibson, the once-Hollywood A-lister turned exile following that infamous drunken rant at the police back in 2006, it's unlikely that any other living director could have told the tender and bloody story of World War II hero and Medal of Honor recipient Desmond Doss with quite the same mixture of visceral horror and religious bent. There have been a myriad of movies recounting the acts of heroism and barbarism that occurred during the conflict, but most fail to stand out or tell their tale in a way that is unique. Gibson has defied his (understandable) haters and crafted a fine piece of work, and a story that will no doubt be compared to the actor/director's own personal plight.

Essentially a movie of two parts, both in terms of tone and quality, screenwriters Robert Schenkkan (HBO's The Pacific) and Andrew Knight (The Water Diviner) take the conventional biopic route by going way back to Doss's childhood living with his mother (Rachel Griffiths) and abusive, alcoholic father (Hugo Weaving) in Virginia. He is raised a Seventh-day Adventist and works in the local church, and as he eventually grows into Andrew Garfield, starts to romance the pretty girl who will later become his wife, Dorothy (Teresa Palmer). These early scenes have a corny gloss to them, like watching a big-budget Lifetime movie with a slightly better script. While the incredibly cute romance between the couple is beautifully played by the two main leads, the movie doesn't really get going until Doss follows his brother in volunteering to fight against the Japanese.

Undeterred by his restrictive religious beliefs, which forbid him to even touch a gun, Doss hopes to do his part by working as a medic. He first must go through boot camp, where he quickly finds himself in hot water with his drill instructor Sgt. Howell (Vince Vaughn) and Captain Glover (Sam Worthington) when revealing himself to be a conscientious objector. Rejecting a ticket home by way of psychiatric discharge, Doss becomes an outcast in his unit and is bullied by his fellow recruits. A stint in army jail and a trial ensues before Doss is eventually allowed to rejoin his squad before they are shipped off to the Pacific. It is during the Battle of Okinawa, and more specifically the mission to secure Maeda Escarpment - nicknamed 'Hacksaw Ridge' - that Doss will prove his worth, while the unrelenting horror of war explodes around him.

Anyone familiar with Gibson's previous work will know what to expect: No punches are pulled in the truly horrific battle scene, which lasts for pretty much the entire second half. Doss rushes somewhat elegantly through exploding heads and young men holding their own guts, as a seemingly endless wave of Japanese screamers lunge at them with rifles and swords. To call this the most disturbing depiction of war would be untrue (Elem Klimov's Come and See will forever hold that title), but it's damn near close. Though the splatter is relentless, it also manages to wear you down psychologically, so you can almost feel the weight of every bullet-ridden body Doss manages to drag to safety. Garfield is terrific, managing to charm with a near-permanent goofy grin that makes it seem like Doss knows and is comfortable with exactly what life expects of him. Somewhat surprisingly, so is Vaughn, who injects what I expected would be a cliched boot camp montage with some laugh-out-loud humour. Bravo then, and welcome back Mel (haven't we forgiven actors for much worse?).


Directed by: Mel Gibson
Starring: Andrew Garfield, Teresa Palmer, Luke Bracey, Hugo Weaving, Sam Worthington, Vince Vaughn, Rachel Griffiths
Country: Australia/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,157: 'War on Everyone' (2016)

Irish-born, London-based writer/director John Michael McDonagh's previous two films, The Guard (2011) and Calvary (2014), were jet-black comedies set in his native country, and both featured knockout performances from their lead, Brendan Gleeson. McDonagh's debut features were warmly received by critics, especially Calvary, which played out a rather twisted revenge tale against a backdrop of religious guilt. Neither managed to generate much commercial success, but nevertheless made McDonagh hot property and offered him the chance to work in the U.S., much like his brother Martin after In Bruges. Has John gone the way of his brother and delivered a misfire in the mould of the messy Seven Psychopaths?

Well in a way, yes. More akin to the broad, bad-taste tale of a corrupt, hateful cop on a journey of redemption in The Guard than the contemplative weight of Calvary, War on Everyone moves the action to Albuquerque, New Mexico and replaces Gleeson with the sharply-dressed, acid-tongued duo of Alexander Skarsgard and Michael Pena as bad cop and badder cop. Skarsgard plays Terry Monroe, an alcoholic, Glen Campbell-loving giant of a man who is prone to violence. Pena is Bob Bolano, an intellectual family man who enjoys philosophical arguments with his wife (Stephanie Sigman) while berating his fat children. They are the worst kind of cops imaginable; both are corrupt beyond belief, taking cuts of every stash or bundle of money they find, and generally fucking up scumbags left right and centre.

McDonagh has great faith in his actors to make these truly despicable characters seemingly defined by their quirks likeable, and it's a testament to the leading men that they actually manage to pull it off. Pena can do this kind of thing in his sleep - he could be playing Hitler and will still charm the pants off anybody watching. The real revelation is Skarsgard, showing a real knack for comic timing after previously being resigned to more stoic roles. Apparently Garret Hedlund pulled out at the last minute, and what a stroke of luck that turned out to be. At almost 6"5 and permanently hunched, Skarsgard often resembles a slow-witted giant come to stomp the place to pieces, instantly banishing all memory of the ripped hunk of The Legend of Tarzan. The duo's chemistry really holds the film together, as the remainder is little more than a mishmash of violence, colourful characters and homages.

Another way to make loathsome characters more sympathetic is by pitting them against someone even more heinous. Here the big villain is English aristocrat James Mangan (Theo James), a narcissistic psychopath whose planned heist with Muslim convert and police informer Reggie X (Malcolm Barrett) ends in a bloodbath. Terry and Bob still want their cut though, but the well-spoken Lord may prove too powerful to intimidate, especially with police chief Gerry Stanton (Paul Reiser) and City Hall breathing down their necks. It's not a particularly interesting story to build a collection of shakedowns, car chases and shoot-outs around, but some relief is offered in the relationship between Terry and former stripper Jackie (Tessa Thompson), who form a sweet romance amidst all the misanthropy. A certain step back after the mastery of Calvary, War on Everyone will offend some but have others in stitches, and I'm somewhere in between.


Directed by: John Michael McDonagh
Starring: Alexander Skarsgård, Michael Peña, Theo James, Tessa Thompson, Caleb Landry Jones, Stephanie Sigman, Malcolm Barrett, Paul Reiser
Country: UK

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,156: 'Downfall' (2004)

While there may be a multitude of movies produced in Europe and America depicting the atrocities of Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich - both to dramatic and deliberately comical effect - Germany itself is notoriously apprehensive when facing its dark, and very recent, history. Based on accounts from historians and witnesses, including Andre Heller and Othmar Schmiderer's documentary Blind Spot: Hitler's Secretary (from which scenes are used to book-end the film), Oliver Hirschbiegel's Der Untergang, or Downfall, is one of the best movies ever made about Hitler. Rather than investigating how the war veteran and struggling artist became the egotistical tyrant he is remembered as being, Downfall focuses on his final days holed up in a bunker as the war comes to a bloody end around him.

It's a testament to Bruno Ganz's performance that Hitler remains the enigmatic figure seen in Leni Riefenstahl's documentaries, even though he is descending into madness and is clearly in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease. As the Russian army closes in on Berlin and the shell blasts increase in volume through the walls, Hitler and his cabinet are faced with the crippling realisation that their vision of global ethnic cleansing and forming a Germanic empire has failed spectacularly. Often hushed, cunning and inspirational to the men who still adore him, the Fuhrer is also prone to outrageous demands and formidable tantrums. He is a paradoxical cluster, damning his people to death by demanding they still resist an enemy that has already defeated them, yet Ganz still finds humanity in there. Between scolding the Jewish race and sending units into certain death, he mourns the death of his beloved dog Blondi and forms a tender relationship with Eva Braun (Juliane Kohler). He is humanised, but never sympathetic.

Yet Downfall is not simply a document of Hitler's final days; it is much more about Germany as a whole, and how the country fell into chaos as the Reich was toppled. We gain access into the bunker through Traudl Junge (Alexandra Maria Lara), Hitler's secretary for many years. Out in the increasingly perilous streets of Berlin, Professor Schenck (Christian Berkel) does all he can to help the weak and injured while Hitler Youth assassinate old men fleeing the bombing. Many of the cabinet, including Albert Speer (Heino Ferch) and Hermann Fegelein (Thomas Kretschmann), are desperate to flee and urge their Fuhrer to do the same, while contradicting his orders in the hope of salvaging some sort of peace. Despite the scope of the story, you'll never hear Downfall being referred to as an ensemble piece or a war epic, as it retains a sense of intimacy throughout thanks to Rainer Klaussman's grainy, claustrophobic cinematography, with even the wide-open streets of Berlin feeling oddly suffocating. It's a brave, bold movie, and one that goes about its business with focus and a stern grip on the complex unfolding of events.


Directed by: Oliver Hirschbiegel
Starring: Bruno Ganz, Alexandra Maria Lara, Ulrich Matthes, Juliane Köhler, Christian Berkel, Heino Ferch, Thomas Kretschmann
Country: Germany/Austria/Italy

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,155: 'Ice Age: Collision Course' (2016)

Yes, you read the title correctly. A fifth entry into the series which began in 2002 with Ice Age somehow stumbled onto cinema screens last year to find that even the target audience may have become fatigued by the increasingly cuddly and decreasingly funny franchise, as its box office pulled in far fewer dollars than was expected. You would be forgiven if you weren't even aware of this movie, as I doubt even the most loyal of fans were screaming out for more following the limp Continental Drift in 2012. Having covered just about every historical disaster to hit the globe without any sense of timeline, writers Michael J. Wilson, Michael Berg and Yoni Brenner have decided to make one up, and that is after sending one of its most recognisable characters into space.

That character is Scrat, the saber-tooth squirrel whose neverending quest to get his hands on that evasive acorn always proved to be a welcome distraction whenever the central story became too tedious or sentimental. After stumbling upon an alien spaceship glimpsed in the first movie, he accidentally switches it on and is blasted into the cosmos, playing pinball with the planets and forming the Milky Way. Before you can say "hey, that doesn't make any sense!", Scrat sends a meteorite hurtling towards Earth, just as Manny the mammoth (Ray Romano) realises he has forgotten his anniversary while stressing about his grown-up daughter's relationship with the goofy Julian (Adam Devine). Collision Course is happy to meander along like a prehistoric sitcom.

It's quite clear that directors Mike Thurmeier and Galen T. Chu are convinced that by simply throwing more characters into this already overstuffed universe will distract the audience from the sheer lack of imagination and actual jokes. Returning are Ellie (Queen Latifah), Manny's wife; ground sloth Sid (John Leguizamo) who is feeling lovelorn after being dumped; saber-tooth tiger Diego (Denis Leary), who seems to be teaching his girlfriend Shira (Jennifer Lopez) that eating meat is bad; opossum brothers and comic-relief Crash (Seann William Scott) and Eddie (Josh Peck); and wise-cracking screwball Granny (Wanda Sykes). As the meteor heads closer to Earth, the Herd come across Buck (Simon Pegg), the unhinged weasel still living in the secret Jurassic world last seen in Dawn of the Dinosaurs, who inadvertently invites a trio of pissed-off dromaeosaurs (voiced by Nick Offerman, Stephanie Beatiz and Max Greenfield) onto their trail. It's all too much - Lopez must have about 5 lines throughout the entire film - and I'm not even covering the new set of characters introduced near the end.

There's plenty of forward momentum and what must be a world-record of fart and arse gags to distract unfussy children, but there is next to nothing to keep the grown-up audience entertained. In an age where The Lego Movie can make profound statements about the nature of corporate culture and Zootopia can ask some serious questions about race relations, you would find deeper life-lessons in an episode of The King of Queens than you will find in Collision Course. Demonstrating an understanding of the laws of physics on par with Superman IV: The Quest for Peace, the education here is purely familial, with Manny undergoing the same learning curve as he has in every previous instalment. While the animation may be lovely and polished, the sheer lack of effort by Blue Sky Studios to deliver anything but a piece of colourful fluff to keep the cash machine fully stocked and operational is unforgivable. When you find yourself rooting for the asteroid to end of this nonsense once and for all, it's clear that the franchise is now done.


Directed by: Mike Thurmeier, Galen T. Chu
Voices: Ray Romano, John Leguizamo, Denis Leary, Queen Latifah, Keke Palmer, Simon Pegg, Seann William Scott, Josh Peck, Adam Devine, Wanda Sykes
Country: USA

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,154: 'The Wolfman' (2010)

To say that The Wolfman had a troublesome journey from page to screen would be an understatement, with director-swaps, re-shoots and a release date that kept getting pushed back plaguing the production of Universal's attempt to reboot one of the horror franchises they laid their foundations with back in the 1930s and 40s. The cracks and desperate stitching together are plain to see in the resulting movie, which limped into cinemas only to quickly disappear from memory. One part an earnest attempt to bring an age-old tale to modern audiences with a heavy tip-of-the-hat to the Lon Chaney original, and one part a bungled and rushed attempt to blend a serious psychological study with gruesome mainstream thrills, screenwriters Andrew Kevin Walker (Se7en) and David Self (Road to Perdition) must have been wondering where their hard work went.

Shakespearean actor Lawrence Talbot (Benicio Del Toro) leaves the comforts of London life for his childhood home of Blackmoor after he learns of the disappearance of his brother Ben (Simon Merrells). There waiting for him is his father Sir John (Anthony Hopkins), who greets his wayward son in typical horror fashion, from the top of the dark staircase of his once-spectacular mansion. When Ben shows up dead and apparently mangled by some vicious beast, Lawrence consoles his brother's beautiful fiancee Gwen (Emily Blunt). During an attack on the village by a bloodthirsty werewolf, Lawrence is bitten and is cursed to transform into a murderous monster every full moon. Faced with his developing fondness for Gwen and his uncontrollable, animalistic urges, Lawrence is forced to confront the beast within, as Scotland Yard Inspector Aberline (Hugo Weaving) is called in as the body count rises.

Given my love for the old Universal horror movies, I appreciated The Wolfman's respect for the original and the occasional success in bringing those foggy English moors to life again. The film also thrives during the few brutal attacks, with no punches being pulled in the gore stakes as spines are raked and limbs go flying. Sadly, this is just about all Joe Johnston's movie has going for it, and the director shapes the film with the same lack of singular vision that plagued Jurassic Park III (2001) and Captain America: The First Avenger (2011). One moment it is rushing to deliver the CGI-fuelled thrills to the undemanding audience, and the next it is brooding and deep, or delivering a confusing moment of exposition in what becomes an unnecessarily complicated plot. I don't recall the likes of Lon Chaney and Bela Lugosi stumbling their way through a convoluted story for 2 long hours, so why would it be needed here?


Directed by: Joe Johnston
Starring: Benicio Del Toro, Anthony Hopkins, Emily Blunt, Hugo Weaving
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,153: 'Arrival' (2016)

Anyone who may be somewhat hesitant to let themselves get too hyped-up about the upcoming sequel to Ridley Scott's sci-fi masterpiece Blade Runner (1982) can now at least be assured that the movie is in the safest hands possible after viewing director Denis Villeneuve's Arrival, one of the most intelligent and thoughtful first contact pictures in recent memory. Arrival's November release date goes some way to indicate the kind of audience the film is going for: just in time for awards season and about as far removed from the CGI-laden destruction-athons that litter the summer as you can get. No monuments are blown to smithereens here, nor does the American President deliver a stirring speech to a chest-thumping crowd. Villeneuve's concerns lie with the necessity to communicate and the strength to be had in unity.

Adapted from Ted Chiang's short story Story of Your Life, Arrival begins by establishing the mindset of its heroine Louise Banks (Amy Adams), a linguist who is in mourning over the loss of her daughter to cancer. During one of her lectures, she is asked to turn on the news, where it is being reported that twelve alien spacecrafts have touched down at seemingly random locations around the world. One of the giant, egg-shaped ships touches down close by in Montana, while others hover mysteriously in the likes of Australia, China and Russia. They don't emit any gas or toxins, and their purpose and intent are frustratingly unclear. Naturally, all hell breaks loose across the globe with looting, violence and plummeting stocks leading the media to dub this an 'alien crisis', and Russia and China becoming increasingly nervous.

Having participated in a Farsi translation a couple of years earlier, Louise is brought in by U.S. Army Colonel Weber (Forest Whitaker) to help communicate with the alien beings, along with theoretical physicist Ian Donnelly (Jeremy Renner). A base has been set up at the Montana location, and Louise quickly establishes contact with the two giant creatures, who Ian dubs Abbott and Costello. They communicate by ejecting a substance from their tentacles, which manifest in circular symbols, each slightly differing from one another. With Weber and CGI Agent Halpern (Michael Stuhlbarg) insisting that time it of the utmost importance, Louise must decipher the alien language and establish the reason for their arrival as other countries do the same, and before an over-eager China strike first without knowing the extra-terrestrials true intentions.

Time and non-linearity are central to the film's themes, and Arrival's careful pace and fractured narrative will certainly frustrate anyone hoping to see a traditional alien invasion picture. Screenwriter Eric Heisserer and Villeneuve have much bigger ideas than to have both sides simply blow each other up. The film shares more in common with Contact (1997) and Interstellar (2014); more philosophical and contemplative works of science-fiction that raise the big questions. But this is not two hours of chin-stroking, as Villeneuve repeats his Sicario trick of building a tense atmosphere full of dread and trepidation. The first glimpse of the alien ship is an otherwordly experience, as Johann Johannsson's score blares out horns and deep rumbles, like the song of a whale from another planet. It's all anchored by Adams' terrific, restrained performance, as she channels pain and frustration through her tough, closed-off exterior. One of the finest sci-fi pictures of the past decade, and one that cuts to the very fabric of what it means to be human. The Replicants are surely in safe hands.


Directed by: Denis Villeneuve
Starring: Amy Adams, Jeremy Renner, Forest Whitaker, Michael Stuhlbarg
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,152: 'The BFG' (2016)

It's been a whopping 25 years since Steve Spielberg's last real children's film, when he disappointed children and adults alike with his Peter Pan re-imagining Hook. After a long period of going back and forth between monochromatic, Oscar-wary history lessons and crowd-pleasing blockbuster fare, Hollywood's most famous director is back trying to win the hearts of both children and parents as he did with one of his most celebrated movies, E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial (1982), with a passion project he's been considering for some time. He also reunites with E.T. screenwriter Melissa Mathison (who sadly died last year) to bring the notoriously tricky world of Roald Dahl to the big screen.

Insomniac orphan Sophie (Ruby Barnhill) spends her nights either beneath her blanket pouring over books or roaming the halls of the orphanage looking for anything that may spark her interest. While up late one night, she shushes some drunks staggering home from the pub, only to glimpse the shadow of what looks like a giant hooded man. The figure gets closer and closer, until a giant hand reaches in through her window and whisks her and blanket both across the country. The mysterious monstrosity turns out to be a giant indeed, but a big, friendly one, played in motion capture by a wonderful Mark Rylance. The BFG is the runt of his litter in Giant Country, and is routinely bullied by the much bigger fellow giants that lurk on the land outside of his cave. The two outcasts will form a bond that will see their two worlds unite.

Brian Cosgrove's beloved animated film from 1989 was incredibly close to the book, and was said to be a personal favourite of Dahl's. Yet a faithful page-to-screen adaptation of a terrific piece of literature doesn't necessarily result in a good movie, and having watched the cartoon relatively recently, I didn't find it very entertaining. Spielberg's update also stays quite close to Dahl's text, and it suffers from the same saggy narrative as the much shorter movie that came before did. Anyone hoping to keep their children entertained for a couple of hours may find them getting restless, as Spielberg is happy to take his time exploring this strange land. It's a decision I applaud, but it doesn't excuse an incredibly slow middle-section, as the BFG introduces the world of dream-catching, snozzcumbers and the joys of farting to the precocious Sophie, complete with rambling monologues and existential pondering.

There's also a noticeable reluctance to explore the darker areas of the book, with the giants (played like Cockney bouncers by the likes of Jemaine Clement and Bill Hader) failing to live up their names (Fleslumpeater, Bloodbottler, Bonecruncher). They instead come across as bullying buffoons and not the child-munching monsters they are meant to be. If there is one thing the film gets totally right, it is with the casting of Rylance, fresh off his Oscar win for Bridge of Spies (2015). The wonderful effects by Weta perfectly capture the warmth and innocence of his performance, and his line delivery is pitch-perfect. Spielberg also goes all-out with Dahl's bizarre finale, which sees Sophie recruit the Queen herself (Penelope Wilton) and her trusted butler Mr. Tibbs (Rafe Spall) in her fight against the evil giants of Giant Country. It's a truly weird climax, but it's the only consistently funny part of the movie. Not a total failure by any stretch of the imagination, but a somewhat rambling, timid effort to bring a difficult book to the screen.


Directed by: Steven Spielberg
Starring: Mark Rylance, Ruby Barnhill, Penelope Wilton, Jemaine Clement, Rebecca Hall, Rafe Spall, Bill Hader
Country: USA/India

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,151: 'Die! Die! My Darling!' (1965)

After Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho (1960) made cinematic waves and raked in the profits as a result, studios were eager to deliver their own take on mad-man horror cinema. Hammer's unique brand of British gothic and literary monsters was begin to wobble as audience's tastes moved on as a result of the leaps and bounds being made in the genre in Europe and the U.S.. Robert Aldrich's What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962) made a success out of bringing a once-Hollywood great, Bette Davis, out of a forced early retirement and turning her into a screen psychopath. Hammer pinched Davis for themselves in The Nanny (1965), and repeated the trick again the same year with Tallulah Bankhead in Die! Die! My Darling!, or to give it its blander, more widely-used alternative title, Fanatic.

American Patricia Carroll (Stefanie Powers) arrives in London to marry her handsome beau Alan (Maurice Kaufmann). After admitting that she has been exchanging letters with the mother of her former, now-dead fiance, she heads off on her own to pay a visit to her would-be mother-in-law when Alan disapproves. Patricia believes that she is doing a nice thing. and the old lady Mrs. Trefoile (Bankhead) seems harmless enough at first, if a little nutty. She is being guilt-tripped into staying the night, and ends up staying much longer than she had planned, as the true extent of Mrs. Trefoile's religious zealotry reveals itself. There are no mirrors in the house as vanity is a sin, lip-stick and red clothing are banned, and the food consists of unrecognisable slop. Just as Patricia is about to leave, she lets slip of her intention to re-marry, causing Mrs. Trefoile to lock the poor young lady away until she learns the evil of her ways.

It may not be the most memorable entry into the fleeting 'psycho-biddy' fad, but Die! Die! My Darling! has its fair share of moments courtesy of a tight and witty script by Richard Matheson, and a fiery performance by Bankhead, in what turned out to be her final appearance (she died the following year). Powers cuts a likeable but frustrating lead, as she fails time and time again to make any real attempts to escape outside of making the occasional feeble struggle. Any in the audience used to the hardened, capable heroines we tend to get nowadays will no doubt be shouting at the screen. There's a terrific supporting cast, which includes husband-and-wife servants Harry (Peter Vaughan) and Anna (Yootha Joyce), and a young Donald Sutherland as the simple-minded Joseph. You may not have the desire to see it more than once in your lifetime, but it makes for a cosy Saturday afternoon B-movie.


Directed by: Silvio Narizzano
Starring: Tallulah Bankhead, Stefanie Powers, Peter Vaughan, Yootha Joyce, Maurice Kaufmann, Donald Sutherland
Country: UK

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,150: 'The Skin I Live In' (2011)

The work of lauded Spanish writer/director Pedro Almodovar has always been relatively unclassifiable. While his movies clearly bare his fingerprints, the tone can often switch between high drama and comedy, tragedy and farce, restrained and sexually liberated, and often within the same scene. 'Melodrama' is the tag he usually receives, but his vision is far more complex than that. The Skin I Live In, a film which reunites him with actor Antonio Banderas 22 years after Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! (1989) is perhaps his most genre-conscious yet. It's a teasing thriller cleverly disguised as a horror, taking inspiration from classics and art-house pieces that explored both the beauty and horror of the human form, and our eagerness to tamper with it.

The reserved and clearly mad plastic surgeon Robert Ledgard (Banderas) is on the verge of a breakthrough in the development of a synthetic human skin; one that avoids blemishing and has a resistance to mosquito bites and even fire. While his ethics are questioned by his peers, he also holds a terrible secret. At his home, he keeps a beautiful woman named Vera (Elena Anaya) locked away in a white room surrounded by cameras. The images are shown throughout the house, and Robert usually watches with fascination and desire on a huge screen that takes up most of the wall its perched upon. His loyal housekeeper Marilia (Marisa Paredes) also seems to harbouring a secret, and when her violent son Zeca (Roberto Alamo) returns, he sets off a sequence of events that will affect the lives of everyone involved. To give any more of the plot away would be to reveal too much, and Almodovar is happy to tease us by jumping back and forth between the past, present and the not-too-distant past.

It could be argued that this technique is a cheap tactic, but Almodovar wants to keep us from making any knee-jerk judgements until we've fully grasped the mindset of the characters. The movie goes to some seriously twisted places, and would perhaps be laughable if the events weren't so masterfully and elegantly pieced together. The doctor is terribly mad - this is evident early on - but Almodovar is clearly intrigued and seduced by Ledgard's dedication to his craft and his obsession over his creation. Banderas is brilliant in the role and reveals a more reserved and darker side to the persona seen in his American movies, as is Anaya, who manages to exercise a range of emotions through those stunning brown eyes of hers. If you enjoyed the themes explored in the likes of Georges Franju's Eyes Without a Face (1960), Hiroshi Teshigahara's The Face of Another (1966) and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, then The Skin I Live In will no doubt fascinate you as it wanders into some incredibly dark places.


Directed by: Pedro Almodóvar
Starring: Antonio Banderas, Elena Anaya, Marisa Paredes, Jan Cornet, Roberto Álamo
Country: Spain

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,149: 'The Godfather Part II' (1974)

Of all the wonderful things that can be said about Francis Ford Coppola's American masterpiece The Godfather (1972), above all else the film is a masterclass in storytelling. It's essentially a classic, romantic story of family, loyalty and the passage of time, undercut with a dark, violent portrayal of what it takes to achieve the American dream. It told a detailed, complex, and often confusing story featuring a large ensemble of characters, but this only matched the complexity of what Coppola was trying to achieve. The director, adapting Mario Puzo's novel, famously had a torrid time at the hands of the producers, namely Robert Evans. Yet when the resulting three-hour epic became a box-office and award-season smash, Coppola would be given free reign if he was to helm a follow-up.

The resulting three hour twenty minute sequel was the director grabbing his chance to have complete control and pouring all of his artistry into it. This wasn't to be another classical Hollywood tale, but one of corruption, greed and pure evil. I first saw The Godfather Part II around 20 years ago at the age of 12 when I was first allowed to start watching movies for grown-ups. Watching it now, having seen it a handful of times in between, it's a completely different movie to the one I remember. I remembered it as an ambitious gangster movie with quite shocking violence, chocked full of great performances by actors who are now giants in their field. What I see now is a sequel truly like no other. A movie that is somehow optimistic and pessimistic in equal measures; one that sees its lead lose his soul while his father gains his; and quite possibly one of the saddest movies ever made.

At first, Part II mirrors the narrative of its predecessor, beginning with a grand wedding as the Don (now Al Pacino's Michael Corleone) makes his underlings sweat as they wait to greet the head of the 'family'. While the previous wedding was a joyous, boisterous occasion, this one is noticeably different. Of the family that remains - John Cazale's weak-willed Fredo; Talia Shire's gold-digging Connie - only the mother seems to be the same. The band doesn't even know any Italian songs. While Michael may have attempted to continue his father's legacy when he took over, the changing, capitalist world has driven him inward, isolating himself from everybody around him and drifting away from the Sicilian values of his father. He was once a proud war veteran with a bright future, but now he is solemn and aggressive, and becomes even more so when a hit on his home almost kills him and his wife Kay (Diane Keaton).

His close brush with death only fuels his paranoia, and he must navigate perilous waters as he moves into business in Cuba with one his father's business associates Hyman Roth (Lee Strasberg), who also happens to be backing a couple of brothers moving into Corleone capo Frankie Pentangeli's (Michael V. Gazzo) territory. Michael suspects a betrayer within his own ranks, suspecting everyone including his own family. It almost seems like a deliberately confusing plot to take in alongside Michael's descent into pure evil, and it may all be too overwhelming had Coppola not chosen to juxtapose this story with one of optimism and nostalgia; that of the young Vito Corleone's escape from a mafia boss in Sicily and his eventual arrival in America. There is infinitely more colour and hope in these moments, and while these scenes may gloss over Vito's own violent journey, it seems like Coppola is making a point about where he feels his country was heading. Of course, these flashbacks are made even more welcome by the astonishing performance from a young Robert De Niro.

The Godfather Part II currently sits in between The Godfather and The Dark Knight as #3 on IMDb's Top 250 list, and while I have little faith in the accuracy of a list that relies so heavily on popularity, it must be one of the most difficult and uncompromising movies in there. I'm actually pleasantly surprised that so many people love it, given the lack of flashy moments of violence the genre is so popular for. It's an experiment that could have gone so horribly wrong, and one that certainly wouldn't have been made outside of the innovative 1970s. Yet Coppola gets everything spectacularly right, from the inspirational casting of the Oscar-nominated Gazzo and Strasberg, to the chilling penultimate scene which sees James Caan's Sonny briefly return. In that final moment we realise that Michael has always been alone, destined to carve his own path, while forever gazing into the past to ponder what could have been.


Directed by: Francis Ford Coppola
Starring: Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, Robert Duvall, Diane Keaton, John Cazale, Lee Strasberg, Michael V. Gazzo, Talia Shire
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,148: 'The Legend of Tarzan' (2016)

As one of the great iconic characters of cinema, it seems like Tarzan, Lord of Greystoke has been absent from our cinema screens for an incredibly long time. While the character may have seen his fair share of ups and downs over the last few decades - even Disney's 1999 effort is one of their least fondly-remembered films in what was a prosperous and defining era for the House of Mouse - the famous tale of the vine-swinging white man raised by apes in Africa seemed ripe for a re-imagining in our anything-is-possible times. It took 17 years for the Lord of the Apes to re-appear, but is the character still relevant? And is it possible to deliver a fresh, original take on such a familiar and old-fashioned story?

For the first 20 minutes of David Yates' film, it would seem yes. Wisely opting to begin with Tarzan - here played stoically by Alexander Skarsgard - already back in England and going by his birth name John Clayton, the film avoids having to repeat the old "me Tarzan, you Jane" shtick well all know so well. He's a bit of a legendary figure, famous for his huge hands that have been gradually restructured after so many years running on all limbs. He is also married to Jane (Margot Robbie), the fiery woman he fell in love with back in the jungle. Eager to leave the past behind him. Tarzan finds himself heading back to the Congo when the Prime Minister (Jim Broadbent) requests that he travel there to report on the actions of Belgium's King Leopold. After initially declining, he agrees when American envoy George Washington Williams (Samuel L. Jackson) voices his beliefs that the Belgians are in fact slaving the Congolese natives.

It's an interesting, topical start, and one that, at first at least, seems to be addressing the issue of how the tale of a white man swinging in to the save the day for his African friends would go down in our politically correct times. It's just a terrible shame that the movie becomes so incredibly dull and rather uncomfortable to watch after such a promising start. Scriptwriters Adam Cozad and Craig Brewer seem convinced that simply acknowledging the issues of race and the stereotypical, one-dimensional role of its female lead means that they can get away with it. Jane literally states that she's not some damsel-in-distress before being carried away in much distress. While The Legend of Tarzan can be commended for being brave enough to tackle the topic of slavery, entwining images of shackled, beaten black men with CGI-laden high jinks is just plain insensitive.

Still, the movie's main issue is that it's just so incredibly lifeless and uninspiring. After Tarzan arrives in Africa, Jane is kidnapped by Belgian envoy Leon Rom (Christoph Waltz), and the remainder of the plot revolves around rescuing her, with some animals in between. The fact that Jane spends most of her time trapped on a steamboat gives a decent impression of the film's pace. Perhaps we have been spoiled by the CGI mastery of Disney's The Jungle Book, but the special effects, especially involving the apes, simply aren't up to scratch, and even pale in comparison to 2011's Rise of the Planet of the Apes. One thing that certainly is real however, is Skarsgard's torso. Fair play to the guy, he's truly gone the whole nine yards, and does his best with a role that requires little other than physicality. I've enjoyed his work ever since I saw him in True Blood and later on Generation Kill, but if he is ever to become a star and allow his true charisma to shine through, he'll need better material than this.


Directed by: David Yates
Starring: Alexander Skarsgård, Margot Robbie, Samuel L. Jackson, Christoph Waltz, Djimon Hounsou, Jim Broadbent
Country: UK/Canada/USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie