Review #1,444: 'A Cruel Romance' (1984)

Eldar Ryazanov's A Cruel Romance is a true gem of Soviet cinema; an under-seen period piece set in 1877 that is lavish, funny and devastating in equal measures. The bulk of the action is set in the fictional town of Bryakhimov on the bank of the Volga River, where many merchant men have made their fortune and now seek a wife. The Ogudalovas were once the richest family in the area, but now matriarch Kharita (Alisa Freyndlikh) struggles to pay her mortgage after the death of her husband, but still mingles with society's higher-ups in the hope of finding a husband for her three daughters. Two of them are now married, with the wedding of second daughter Olga (Olga Krasikova) to an overbearingly jealous prince from Tiflis opening the film. This is all witnessed by Larisa (Larisa Guzeeva), the most beautiful and desirable of the Ogudalova sisters, who is happy to see her sibling sail off to a new life, but feels shame at the thought of being sold off like property.

Larisa is the last remaining singleton, and there's no shortage of suitors, despite the fact that she will come without a dowry. The richest merchant in town, Mokiy Parmenovich Knurov (Aleksey Petrenko), harbours strong feelings towards Larisa, but he is married and too old. Perhaps better suited is Larisa's childhood friend Vasiliy Danilovich Vozhevatov (Viktor Proskurin), but he is not quite rich enough to take a bride without a dowry. Yuliy Kapitonovich Karandyshev (Andrey Myagkov), a postman of low social status, is madly in love with Larisa, or perhaps with how such a beautiful woman will feed his ego. Yuliy frequents the parties thrown by Kharita in the hope of convincing her, but is usually left embarrassed or overshadowed by the more charismatic men at the events. Yet Larisa only has eyes for one man, the rich, handsome and exciting Sergei Sergeyvich Paratov (Nikita Mikhalkov), a travelling merchant who surrounds himself with music-playing gypsies who utterly adore him. After spending a wonderful evening together, Paratov suddenly sets sail without saying goodbye, leaving Larisa at the mercy of the increasingly obsessive Yuliy.

Told in two parts, the first segment roughly covers the span of a year, while the second is merely a day and night. Larisa's sweeping romance with the reckless Sergei and his subsequent disappearance is a more personal story of a poor woman's seemingly hopeless search for love, while part two, which sees Sergei return and plot his seduction, makes larger statements about Russian society as a whole and the type of men that rot it to the core. As the merchants get together at a dinner party hosted by Vasily, these powerful, intelligent men toy with the drunk postman like an ant under a magnifying glass. It's often incredibly funny but uncomfortable to watch, and these brilliantly-acted scenes help build a sense of impending doom, particularly with the way Knurov watches over the Ogudalova family fortune like a vulture and plots Larisa's future like an all-knowing puppet-master. While it creeps slightly into melodramatic territory near the end, A Cruel Romance is a gorgeous costume drama with a ravishing score and haunting cinematography, capable of both sweeping you up into its arms and delivering a few cruel blows along the way.


Directed by: Eldar Ryazanov
Starring: Larisa Guzeeva, Alisa Freyndlikh, Nikita Mikhalkov, Andrey Myagkov, Aleksey Petrenko, Viktor Proskurin
Country: Soviet Union

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,443: 'Monster (Humanoids from the Deep)' (1980)

B-movie super producer Roger Corman has been called a lot of things over the years, usually by those opposed to his special brand of gore-and-boobs exploitation which was specifically designed to get those teenage behinds in seats and the profit margin tilted just enough in his favour for the next low-budget project. But say what you will about Corman - who is still active in the business at the age of 96 - the guy certainly knew what he was doing. Having viewed an early cut of Barbara Peeters' Monster (Humanoids from the Deep), he felt that it was fat too tame to compete in a marketplace that was beginning to be dominated by slasher flicks, so brought in another director to add more sex and violence. The result is now a cult classic, but also one that feels like two films awkwardly spliced together into one.

In the small fishing village of Noyo, the salmon are disappearing from the waters and tensions are mounting between the local fishermen and the Native American community. The arrival of a canning corporation sees the tension increase even further, as the Natives will lose their fishing rights should the cannery open. Tasked with keeping the peace is Sheriff Jim Hill (Doug McClure), who can see the argument from both sides but sees his patience tested by angry fisherman Hank Slattery (Vic Morrow). The answer to everybody's problems appears to arrive in the form of Dr. Susan Drake (Ann Turkel), a beautiful biologist who announces that, through the magic of genetic engineering, the local waters will not only be replenished with more salmon than ever before, but they will be bigger, faster and tastier. As it turns out, the lack of salmon in the water is the least of the sheriff's problems. After a fishing boat mysteriously explodes, dogs turn up dead and mangled, and the local women start being sexually harassed by slimy green humanoids from the deep.

With slasher movies rapidly becoming teenagers' preferred choice in the drive-ins and fleapit cinemas usually targeted by B-movie producers, Corman turned to a variety of genre classics for inspiration. The obvious inspiration is Creature from the Black Lagoon, but you can also see Jaws, Alien, Corman's own Attack of the Crab Monsters and even It's Alive in there, and this mixture of old and contemporary lends further to this feeling that you are watching multiple films at the same time. Monster can never really decide if its a town-in-peril drama with an environmental message, or a straight-forward rubber-suited-monsters-attack-scantily-clad-teenagers horror picture. Much of the movie moves at a slow pace, setting up a narrative that ultimately proves inconsequential when the deliriously over-the-top climax arrives and the town is set upon by a small army of the rapey creatures. Admittedly, the climax is a hell of a lot of fun, but it comes so later that it fails to make up for haphazard storytelling that came before. A special mention must go to the monster costumes which, although clearly men in suits, are suitably repulsive, if far from scary.


Directed by: Barbara Peeters
Starring: Doug McClure, Ann Turkel, Vic Morrow, Cindy Weintraub, Anthony Pena
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,442: 'White Boy Rick' (2018)

If you've ever read up on Richard Wershe Jr, the drug kingpin whose life became the stuff of legend in the prion system over the years, you'll likely be aware that he was used as an FBI informant at just 14 years of age, while the Bureau funded his empire to keep him slinging on the streets and in the loop with any other criminal activity happening in his city of Detroit. After the FBI higher-ups discovered his age, they ditched him, and the dealer known as 'White Boy Rick' was eventually busted for selling cocaine and sentence to life in prison, a ridiculous sentence handed out via some Draconian law that has since been discarded. It's a fascinating, frustrating story that you wouldn't believe if it wasn't true, but Yann Demange's new film White Boy Rick doesn't quite know how to tell it. With so much to be told, the film seems to cast aside the central plot in favour of a domestic drama which, although terrifically acted by the whole cast, doesn't know where its priorities should lie.

We first meet the young Rick (Richie Merritt) at a gun show with his father Richard Sr. (Matthew McConaughey). Despite his baby face and bum-fluff upper-lip hair, Rick is confident and street-smart, teaming up with Old Man Wershe to hustle a salesman into selling two machine guns for a ridiculously knocked-down price. Rick Sr. deals guns for a living, but the business is far from prosperous, and he dreams of someday owning a video store and living within the law. His daughter Dawn (Bel Powley) has picked up a nasty drug habit, and the family-of-three regularly have shouting matches in the street. Luckily, Grandpa (Bruce Dern) and Grandma (Piper Laurie) are just down the street to lighten the mood. After pulling off a few arms deals with gangster 'Lil Man' Curry (Jonathan Majors), Rick Jr. works his way into the cocaine business under the wing of an African-American gang. It doesn't take him long to get busted, but FBI agents Snyder (Jennifer Jason Leigh) and Byrd (Rory Cochrane), along with Detroit PD Detective Jackson (Brian Tyree Henry), are quick to pounce, handing the juvenile a fat pouch of cocaine to keep him in action, promising protection in exchange for information.

It's around this point that the script by Andy Weiss, Logan Miller and Noah Miler starts to lose control, struggling to grasp the message it's trying to convey in a blur of competing plot threads. The family drama at the very centre of Rick's life is given the most attention, and it's engrossing, often devastatingly raw stuff. Powley and McConaughey are standouts, the former wrestling with an addiction spiralling rapidly out of control and the latter blaming himself for the path his son has decided to take. Rick Sr. hates drugs because they devastate lives, yet his guns are used for multiple murders across the city. The domestic scenes are so well done that you almost forget there's another story being told, one that is setting Rick up for a lengthy term in slammer. So when these moments arrive, you never really understand what's going on.

Why exactly would the FBI put so much trust in a 14 year-old relatively new to the drugs scene, and just what does White Boy Rick do on a day-to-day basis? We don't really see him selling drugs, or spending money, or setting up contacts, or building this so-called empire, so Rick's real status and influence remains a mystery. Even his occasional meetings with Snyder and Bird are brief and bereft of information. Demange wants to make the point that Rick was ultimately set up by a government willing to ruthlessly exploit a minor for their own benefit, yet with so little time developing his criminal activities and relationship with the authorities, this aspect almost feels like an afterthought. As a portrait of family dysfunction, White Boy Rick excels, but if you want to really learn about how Richard Wershe Jr went from bread-line gun-runner to FBI informant to a landing a brutally unfair life sentence, I would opt for a Google.


Directed by: Yann Demange
Starring: Richie Merritt, Matthew McConaughey, Bel Powley, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Rory Cochrane, Brian Tyree Henry, Jonathan Majors, Bruce Dern, Piper Laurie
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,441: 'Bad Times at the El Royale' (2018)

Bad Times at the El Royale, the latest offering from former Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Alias and Lost scribe Drew Goddard, was shrouded in secrecy before its release. The trailer promised a dazzling ensemble, a noir-ish crime aesthetic, and a hotel setting where the characters would likely spend the whole film double-crossing each other or figuring out what the hell is going on. This mystery hinted at something more, even something special, but Bad Times is little more than a sporadically fun throwback to the dialogue-heavy crime capers of the 1990s, which were mostly inspired by Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs, even though Hollywood had walked on similar terrain going back decades. It reminded me of Ben Wheatley's recent Free Fire, which pitted various groups against each other in a singular location. And just like Wheatley's disappointment, Bad Times tricks you into believing you're on the road to a shocking revelation, before underwhelming as it struggles to live up to its promise.

Inspired by the Cal Neva Lodge & Casino, the El Royale is a kitchy and somewhat shady hotel located on the border between California and Nevada in 1969. A line separating the two states is proudly displayed within, with each side offering different draws. Catholic priest Father Daniel Flynn (Jeff Bridges) is already there when the film begins, apparently staring into space as our next player arrives, singer Darlene Sweet (Cynthia Erivo), a member of a Supremes-esque group on her way to Vegas to make it as a solo act. As the two strike up a conversation and enter their home for the night, slick-haired salesman Laramie Seymour Sullivan (Jon Hamm) is also there, waiting patiently at the reception for a room he is intent on reserving. We are soon joined by the fourth member of this mysterious group, no-nonsense hippy chick Emily Summerspring (Dakota Johnson), who proudly signs the register with a 'Fuck You'.  Eventually they are given their rooms for the night by the nervous Miles Miller (Lewis Pullman), who appears to be the hotel's only employee. As day becomes night, backstories and true intentions unfold before the arrival of unpredictable cult leader Billy Lee (Chris Hemsworth).

Telling the same story from multiple perspectives was a fad that thankfully burnt itself out by the early 2000s as audiences grew aware that they were being forced to watch the same thing over and over again with little to no pay-off. Goddard does his best to mix things up and keep the unravelling story intriguing enough to hold our attention for the most part, but at two hours and twenty minutes, there's a lot of needless padding to unnecessarily wade through for what is ultimately a routine crime thriller. The film creates a major problem for itself in the opening scene by delivering a well-staged set-piece that concludes with an explosion of violence, something the rest of the film never really feels like topping. If you've ever seen Goddard's Daredevil on Netflix, you'll be lamenting the lack of dizzying camera-work and knuckle-bruising action. What ultimately saves Bad Times is the cast, who are all eager to make their mark when given the opportunity from some one-on-one time. Particularly Bridges, who seems to wander in from another film to deliver a heart-breaking monologue that reveals more information about his past, as well as his current state of affairs, and Hemsworth, who repeats his Ghostbusters trick by stealing the entire film with only a modest amount of screen time. Bad Times doesn't justify its hefty running-time, but you'll likely be left remembering its good parts.


Directed by: Drew Goddard
Starring: Jeff Bridges, Cynthia Erivo, Dakota Johnson, Jon Hamm, Chris Hemsworth, Cailee Spaeny, Lewis Pullman
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,440: 'Eye of the Needle' (1981)

Ken Follett's novel Eye of the Needle was a huge hit for the Welsh author when it was first published in 1978, mixing spy thrills and an unlikely romance as the Allies were preparing for D-Day during World War II. The film adaptation, which followed just three years later, simplifies Follet's text to fit a more comfortable three-act structure, and to deliver a more exciting thriller to audiences who were, at the time, being hit with spy movies left, right and centre. Eye of the Needle isn't your typical adventure yarn however, placing a dead-eyed Nazi spy at the centre of the story and throwing him into the arms of a lonely wife. The result is a thrilling, if often contrived film that is happy to toss logic out of the window as long as it offers the chance for another tense stand-off. The plot eventually lays the outcome of the entire war at the feet of the two leads alone on a remote Scottish island, and somehow gets away with it.

It's London, 1940, and an easy-going Brit named Henry Faber (Donald Sutherland) chats with a friend as young men around them head off to war. Nobody yet knows it, but this charming Englishman poses a greater threat to the Allies' war effort than any enemy overseas, as he is actually Heinrich Faber, a Nazi spy known as 'the Needle' who is transmitting information back to his superiors in the Fatherland. When his nice old landlady accidentally catches him speaking German into a radio, Faber brutally stabs her in the belly with a stiletto, the weapon of choice that earned him his nickname. Fast forward four years later, and British Intelligence are finally on to him, and must track him down before he reveals their country's biggest secret to the enemy. Faber has obtained photographs of an airfield full of fake plywood planes, designed to convince Hitler and his spies that the invasion will arrive in Calais, and not the beaches of Normandy, giving the Nazis a chance to end the war swiftly and brutally. However, on his journey back home, Faber's boat is smashed onto the rocks by high wind, washing him up on the nearby Storm Island, which has a population of 4.

The early scenes are juxtaposed with the happy wedding of Lucy (Kate Nelligan) and David (Christopher Cazenove), a young couple whose special day comes to an abrupt end when they crash their car on the way to their honeymoon. The accident results in David having his legs amputated, causing him to grow bitter and angry, choosing to spend most nights getting drunk with the alcoholic lighthouse keeper as his wife looks after their son and longs for affection. It's here that the two stories meet, with Faber washing up on the island and playing the role of mysterious stranger. There's an erotic scene between Faber and Lucy that is now dated and rather awkward, but mostly their dangerous romance is developed with care. They are stripped down as two lost souls both physically and mentally trapped, and the two leads are terrific. Faber is still dedicated to the cause however, and, as he coldly dispatches anyone that stands in his way, director Richard Marquand never lets us forget his evil nature. Yet the way the plot is forced into place to allow these strangers to cross paths is clunky to say the least. It seems strange that Faber couldn't simply radio the information back to Germany before he sets out to deliver the physical evidence, and seemingly clever characters do incredibly stupid things to allow themselves to be stuck with the needle. It's worth seeing for the fantastic central performances and the down-and-dirty atmosphere, but Eye of the Needle doesn't do quite enough to stand out in the plethora of spy movies from the same era.


Directed by: Richard Marquand
Starring: Donald Sutherland, Kate Nelligan, Ian Bannen, Christopher Cazenove
Country: UK

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,439: 'Alice in Wonderland' (1951)

Long before animation pioneer Walt Disney wowed the cinema-going world with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs - one of the first feature-length animated films ever made - in 1937, the innovator was long dreaming of adapting Lewis Carroll's books Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and its follow-up Through the Looking Glass. He made a short adaptation called Alice's Wonderland, which mixed live-action and animation, for the Laugh-O-Gram Studio in 1923, but never let go of the idea after the studio went bankrupt and he left for Hollywood. Disney's dream wouldn't be fully realised until 14 years after Snow White, when Alice in Wonderland was finally unveiled in 1951. The film flopped upon release, with audiences failing to be seduced by the many colourful yet incredibly weird characters on show, but through television screenings and subsequent revivals, Alice is now an established classic amongst Disney's animated classics.

As her sister reads under a tree, the young Alice (Kathryn Beaumont) dreams of adventure, choosing to explore her own imagination rather than the tales told in books. As she sings by a riverbank, she spots a white rabbit (Bill Thompson) carrying a huge pocket watch. The White Rabbit is late for an important meeting and dashes off into a large rabbit hole. Ever curious, Alice follows him, eventually entering a world in which logic has no place, everything is backward, and everybody is ever so slightly mad. Her adventure into this strange new world leads her to the rather frightening identical twins Tweedledum and Tweedledee (both voiced by J. Pat O'Malley), a garden of singing flowers who soon reveal their weirdly fascist outlook, a hookah-smoking caterpillar (Richard Haydn), the mischievous Cheshire Cat (Sterling Holloway), and, of course, a truly mad tea party hosted by the Mad Hatter (Ed Wynn) and March Hare (Jerry Colonna). This bizarre world known as Wonderland seems to offer no way out, so Alice seeks help from the tyrannical and homicidal Queen of Hearts (Verna Felton), who has a fondness for removing heads.

There is really no meaning or hidden depths to be found in Carroll's books, and Disney's adaptation is no different. It seems to exist simply as a celebration of the wonders of childish imagination and an opportunity for creative abandon. The result is a nonsensical story with little time for structure or purpose, but one that has stood the test of time through the wonderful characters it imagines. It's an often frustrating experience that offers little sense of direction, and I wouldn't be surprised if some younger viewers were put off by the narrative's excessive randomness or utterly terrified by some of the more sinister characters on show. Yet Disney knew exactly how he wanted to portray these characters, and backed by some stellar talent behind the microphone, Alice in Wonderland prevails as a series of memorable vignettes. The Mad Hatter and Cheshire Cat are now embedded into the fabric of pop culture, and that is mainly thanks to Disney and his team of animators. These are truly insane, even malevolent, characters, but Disney knows how to make them lovable, even when they are toying with our protagonist or leading her further into the madness. It's more a nightmare you can't wake up from than a children's adventure story, and while it won't top many people's lists of favourite Disney movies, there is a unique sense of wonder here that could not be found in Tim Burton's over-stylised 2010 remake.


Directed by: Clyde Geronimi, Wilfred Jackson, Hamilton Luske
Voices: Kathryn Beaumont, Ed Wynn, Richard Haydn, Sterling Holloway, Jerry Colonna, Verna Felton, J. Pat O'Malley
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,438: 'First Man' (2018)

Fifty years have passed since the Apollo 11 mission sent three astronauts into outer space and onto the surface of the moon for the first time in the history of mankind. The arrival of First Man, Damien Chazelle's part-Neil Armstrong biography, part-NASA procedural, naturally raises the question of whether the U.S.'s greatest achievement in still relevant in today's political and economic upheaval. Rather than taking the chest-puffing, flag-planting patriotic route to reassure people that America is still indeed great, Chazelle's turns this story - which isn't just about Armstrong - into a celebration of the efforts of everybody involved in the space program, and how they overcame incredible odds to finally set foot on the moon. The brave souls involved did so with the knowledge that a mere loose wire or an unforeseen spark in the electrics can spell certain death, and that nothing but a rickety wall separates them from the warmth of the cramped cockpit and the infinite darkness of space.

Chazelle puts us on edge from the get-go and straight into the adrenaline-fuelled life of an astronaut, as Armstrong, played by Ryan Gosling, struggles to re-enter the atmosphere while piloting the X-15 rocket plane. It's a masterclass of editing, sound design and cinematography, as the death-trap rattles and clunks while alarms blare in the background. And then, it's silence, as the blue clouds come into focus and we touch down in the desert. It's a trick performed time and time again by Chazelle and his technical staff, carving a clear but thin line between peril and safety, as well as allowing the audience to breathe again. The various missions and tests carried out as NASA prepares for the incredible (and beating the Soviets in the process) are captured with expert precision, keen to recreate these real-life events with painstaking accuracy, while injecting these moments with enough cinema magic to keep the palms sweaty. I'd love to hear Neil deGrasse Tyson's thoughts. A special mention must also go to composer Justin Hurwitz, whose otherworldly score - which employs theremins and synthesizers to hark back to the sci-fi B-movies of the 1950s - creates a strange, unsettling mood, bursting into glorious life when the final moments arrive.

But First Man isn't just a matter-of-fact account of NASA's finest hour. While some key players are somewhat drowned out (Pablo Schreiber's Jim Lovell makes a somewhat fleeting appearance and Corey Stoll's Buzz Aldrin is painted as little more than an arsehole), this is also an incredibly personal story of an introverted man whose mind seems to be away with the stars long before he leaves Earth. Haunted by the loss of his young daughter, Armstrong is quiet and straight-laced, even addressing his own sons like press at a news conference. It takes a special actor to pull this off, and Gosling seems to excel when playing the silent, stoic type, radiating charisma with a mere glance and emoting so much when doing so little. The film takes a slight detour into schmaltz with a sub-plot involving Armstrong carrying the bracelet of his dead daughter, but given the central character's withdrawn nature, it's easy to understand why Chazelle felt that it was required. There's also solid support from Jason Clarke as Ed White, Kyle Chandler as Deke Slayton, and Claire Foy, who is given a bit more to do as Janet Armstrong than the wives-at-home usually get in astronaut films. With time, First Man will be the definitive moon landing movie. While it's a stunning procedural, Chazelle directs the thing like a conductor, forging a spiritual journey in a world that laughs at the idea of feeling God's presence.


Directed by: Damien Chazelle
Starring: Ryan Gosling, Claire Foy, Jason Clarke, Kyle Chandler, Corey Stoll, Pablo Schreiber, Shea Whigham
Country: USA/Japan

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,437: 'The House That Jack Built' (2018)

Seven years ago, Danish provocateur Lars von Trier found himself banned from the Cannes Film Festival after making a rather ill-timed joke about sympathising with Hitler during a press conference for Melancholia. For a festival that seems to inspire walk-outs and boos from audiences who have apparently never seen a film before, it was never going to be too long until von Trier wriggled his way back in. After all, for a director famous for clitoris-removal and the mocking of disabled people, the lure of free advertising from appalled cinema-goers would surely be too strong to resist. For his return, von Trier brought The House That Jack Built, a two and half hour serial killer movie that often feels like a stand-in for the director's self-satisfied smirk. Not only does the film feature animal cruelty, infanticide and open mocking of the #MeToo movement, but the anti-hero at its centre talks frequently at length about his real obsession. You guessed it: the Third Reich. This is a giant middle-finger to the Cannes board.

Jack (Matt Dillon) is a serial killer who, by the end, boasts more than 60 victims. He mainly kills women, but he also kills men and children if the subject is just right for his unique brand of 'art'. At the start of the film, he discusses his life and the nature of evil with an unseen man, played by Bruno Ganz, who we don't see until the very end. He defends his grisly past-times as artistic expression, claiming that everyone who died at his hands will be forever immortalised in his work. His story is recounted as a series of incidents, the first of which involves Uma Thurman as an impossibly stupid victim stranded by the road-side. Convincing Jack to give her a ride to a nearby garage that can fix her car jack, she almost talks the stranger into killing her, even handing him the murder weapon. When the brutal, sudden murder occurs, we almost feel a sense of relief. You can imagine von Trier stroking his chin and grinning at the thought of us feeling like she deserved it. Over the course of a decade, Jack ponders his favourite kills, taking the occasional detour to discuss architecture, literature and the work of Glenn Gould, and to repeatedly build and knock down his dream house.

For a film that understandably caused outrage at its premiere, The House That Jack Built isn't gory and full of spatter, but that isn't to say the film isn't frequently repugnant. An old lady is strangled to death for comic effect, a duckling has its leg snipped off, and worst of all, a child's corpse is contorted with wires and preserved in Jack's walk-in freezer, positioned in the background of many scenes just in case we happen to forget. Such blatant button-pushing would be forgivable, of even admirable, had this trudging vanity project been remotely convincing. Instead, its two and a half hours that feels two and a half hours, with a miscast Dillon delivering monologues on the beauty of genocide and the evolution of architecture while von Trier plans his next trick to make you feel uncomfortable. The film's best performance is delivered by Riley Keough as a young woman Jack cruelly names Simple. Jack toys with her low self-esteem before dispatching her in a horrendous manner, but there's real humanity lurking in this scene, and a real sense of dread conjured up by von Trier. The whole thing is almost saved by a climactic journey through a Hell seemingly inspired by the covers of death metal albums, which manages to be both truly eerie and cartoonishly comical. But then you remember what you had to get through to get there, and wonder how to get your 150 minutes back.


Directed by: Lars von Trier
Starring: Matt Dillon, Bruno Ganz, Uma Thurman, Siobhan Fallon Hogan, Sofie Gråbøl, Riley Keough, Jeremy Davies
Country: Denmark/France/Germany/Sweden

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,436: 'Loving Vincent' (2017)

There have been many attempts over the years to comprehend the genius of Dutch artist Vincent van Gogh, from 1956's Lust for Life, to 1990's ambitious Vincent & Theo. While some of these movies are unquestionably good - perhaps none more masterful than Maurice Pialat's Van Gogh - the man himself remains an enigma, so filmmakers have now been forced to take more experimental measures when attempting to understand the painter who, while now regarded as one of art's most influential figures, only managed to sell one painting out of a rumoured 900 during his lifetime. Much focus is placed on the infamous ear-slicing incident, and this is where we began in Loving Vincent, a joint Polish and UK film that employed 125 painters to painstakingly recreate van Gogh's style over footage shot with actors in front of a green screen.

A year after van Gogh's suicide, postmaster and close friend of the troubled artist Joseph Roulin (Chris O'Dowd) tasks his street-fighting son Armand (Douglas Booth) with delivering van Gogh's final letter to his brother Theo. With questions surrounding the suicide still up in the air, Joseph finds van Gogh's sudden demise as suspicious, especially since the painter was in high spirits in the days leading up to the tragedy. It's a feeling that will eventually be shared by Joseph as he embarks on his journey, meeting faces familiar to us from van Gogh's portraits, including the likes of art dealer Pere Tanguy (John Sessions), cafe owner Adeline Ravoux (Eleanor Tomlinson) and close friend Doctor Gachet (Jerome Flynn). As Joseph learns of van Gogh's day-to-day life and his rocky relationship with Gachet and his daughter Marguerite (Saoirse Ronan), this may not be a cut-and-dry suicide carried out by an ear-chopping madman as previously thought.

By turning the subject of van Gogh into a dime-store detective story, Loving Vincent frequently runs the risk of tipping over into TV movie territory. What ultimately prevents this from happening is the time, care and love etched into every frame by directors Dorota Kobiela and Hugh Welchman and the tireless artists, who took approximately 6 years to recreate the likes of Starry Night, At Eternity's Gate and Bank of the Oise at Auvers, and weave these scenes into a convincing narrative. There's also great work by the ensemble cast, each bringing to life the portraits they're based on without feeling staged, and each character offering a unique viewpoint of van Gogh himself, and how he was treated by those around him. It's a fresh take on van Gogh's life, mixing traditional narrative with flashbacks and interpretations in the hope of understanding this mysterious figure or seeing him from a different angle. The man himself is here also, played by Robert Gulaczyk, but his actions and behaviours still remain a mystery. While the true crime slant is somewhat pulpy, Loving Vincent is a treat for fans of van Gogh's work, and undeniably crafted with tenderness and a genuine love of its subject.


Directed by: Dorota Kobiela, Hugh Welchman
Starring: Douglas Booth, Jerome Flynn, Saoirse Ronan, Helen McCrory, Chris O'Dowd, John Sessions, Eleanor Tomlinson, Aidan Turner
Country: Poland/UK/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie