One may have anticipated a drop in quality upon the release of Paul Greengrass' trilogy-capper The Bourne Ultimatum back in 2007. After all, the first two movies made no real effort to cover up the fact that they are ultimately the same movie, and Ultimatum is no different, again sending Matt Damon's haggard, amnesiac super agent on the run from serious-looking CIA agents and emotionless "assets" across a variety of countries at breakneck speed. However, the Bourne trilogy does what trilogies rarely do and gets progressively better which each movie, and this third instalment has learned from the franchise's previous mistakes.
Greengrass goes for all-out action here, barely stopping to catch its breath as the film squeezes tension out of the most ordinary of places and situations, and delivering set-pieces that dwarf anything that came before. There's no doubting that Bourne will make it out of this film alive, and no matter how dire the situations the superhuman find himself in as shady CIA heads Noah Vosen (David Strathairn) and the returning Pam Landy (Joan Allen) track him down using every conceivable piece of spy equipment at their disposal, you know he will somehow find a way to smash his way out. What makes Ultimatum so miraculous is how Greengrass manages to still keep things grounded, whether it's watching Bourne pummel an assassin with a leather-bound book or causing carnage on the streets of New York.
When it does pause for breath, Greengrass thankfully seems eager to wrap up the story of how Bourne came to be the unstoppable badass he is, and uncover the organisation known as Treadstone, the secret agency that have been hunting him down ever since he was picked up by a fishing boat with bullet holes in his back. It's a revelation without any revelations, as anyone with half a brain could fit the puzzle together from the events of the previous films, so the film doesn't spend too much time dwelling on it, cutting straight to the chase when the voice plaguing Bourne's dreams manifests itself in the form of Albert Finney.
Of the plot, there is little to write about. Bourne tracks downjournalist Simon Ross (Paddy Considine), who has taken to writing pieces on the former agent's exploits and a program known as Blackbriar. Bourne's presence naturally attracts the attention of Vosen et al, and the rest you can guess. It's the simplest of McGuffin's, one that exists for the sole purpose of transporting Bourne around the globe and assaulting the senses with exhilarating action, and the experience is all the better for it. Damon is so good here that he doesn't need much dialogue to create a credible and sympathetic hero, as he manages to capture the spirit of Jason Bourne with his fists and looks of panic more than words ever could. While you may still need a barf bag on hand during some of the more frantic moments, The Bourne Ultimatum is an example of the action genre at its finest, one that will leave you scratching your head as to why the studio felt the need to add the Jeremy Renner-starring spin-off and the recent fourth instalment, Jason Bourne, to the story.
Curtis Hanson's L.A. Confidential is a now long-established movie classic, regularly featuring in the various Top 100 lists drummed up by magazines and websites. But despite the impeccable performances from the film's three leads and writers Hanson and Brian Hengeland's firm grip on the labyrinthine plot, something about the film has never quite sat right with me. Don't get me wrong, I still think this is fantastic cinema and I've adored the few James Ellroy novels I've read (L.A. Confidential is adapted from the third book of his 'L.A. Quartet'), but some corny dialogue and flat cinematography weigh down what is ultimately an absorbing character piece.
There are a million stories in the city and it is the job of Sid Hudgens (Danny DeVito), the editor of trashy magazine Hush-Hush, to find them. Celebrity cop Jack Vincennes (Kevin Spacey) works on the side as 'technical advisor' for cop show Badge of Honor and is paid by Hudgens to bust celebrities in all sorts of compromising situations. It's Christmas, and Bud White (Russell Crowe) is buying liquor for the station when he stops by a house and beats on a man for doing the same to his wife. At the station, ambitious young cop Ed Exley (Guy Pearce) is determined to live up to his father's reputation and refuses to be drawn in to the various exploits of his corrupt colleagues. When a group of Mexicans are brought in for assaulting two officers, the drunken officers assault them and the story hits the newspapers.
It's difficult to summarise the plot as the film is always moving forward, putting many pieces into play to the point where you struggle to figure out how it will all link together. The main crux of the film lies with a massacre at a diner called the Nite Owl, where many are killed along with White's ex-partner Dick Stensland (Graham Beckel) and a girl White met at Christmas. She looked beaten up, but Lynn Bracken (Kim Basinger) assured him it wasn't what he thought. Also, with her at Christmas was Pierce Patchett (David Strathairn), a millionaire who runs an agency of hookers made to look like movie stars by plastic surgery. After the incident with the Mexicans, Exley becomes despised by his colleagues for testifying against those involved, particularly angering White after Stensland was shown the door, and forcing Vincennes to testify by threatening his work on Badge of Honor.
Acting out almost like vignettes, the various pieces of the puzzle stay apart for the majority of the film, and it's difficult to figure out what the plot actually is. But the way all these elements ingeniously blend together at the end is the film's main strength. Somehow, Hanson also manages to retain his grasp on the film's trio of complex leads, who are all heavily conflicted and psychologically scarred in some manner. Even Exley, who is a determined straight-arrow, concludes that circumstances often call for one's dark side to be embraced. It's a film noir more invested in the driving force at the core of its central characters than any crime committed, and a crime story more focused on the politicking of the higher-ups and the corruption that comes with it. Despite the occasional wobble, L.A. Confidential is still thrilling cinema 18 years on.
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.
The focus of screenwriter Tony Kushner and director Steven Spielberg's Lincoln biopic is very specific, following the presidents administration for a short period of around two months in early 1865. It is a significant moment in Lincoln's term as president, not just for the passing of the 13th amendment to the United States constitution, that would free the thousands of black slaves, but for a change in Lincoln's opinion of the black population. It is also a significant period for American culture as a whole. Lincoln's image and reputation are wholly constructed from this short time. In the opening scene, Daniel Day-Lewis' Abraham Lincoln, discusses the black experience, and a previous speech he conducted, with two black soldiers on the front line in the civil war, still raging five years since it began. This opening is critical to the change that he experienced when he saw young black men fighting for the Union against the Confederate army. Before this face-to-face encounter, Lincoln had been involved in the Emancipation Proclamation (passed in 1863), but actually had plans to deport the blacks out of the United States, if slavery were abolished, as he felt that blacks and whites could not co-exist.
It is typical of all adaptations of Lincoln, "The Great Emancipator," is that the 16th president has been mythologised even by many history scholars since his death in April 1865. Spielberg is no stranger to revisionist historical cinema, of course (Schindler's List (1993) and Saving Private Ryan (1998) instantly come to mind), as the director tends to hold onto an idealised sense of sentimentality, a heightened range of emotions. It's often a cheap trick in Spielberg's cinema, but in Lincoln, the screenplay does hint at a man who is a little ambiguous on the subject of race. Day-Lewis, in a scene on a porch with his wife's ex-slave confidante, Elizabeth Keckley (Gloria Reuben), he plays Lincoln with an awkwardness. He asks her what he thinks will happen to the black population if slavery was abolished. Is he uncomfortable because of his views on deportation, or is he exploring the idea of absolute freedom? This is another scene that leads me to believe that Kushner and Spielberg were aware of the more dubious history concerning Lincoln's possible racism before 1865. That is not to say he wasn't against slavery, he was, but as a lawyer, it appears he approached it totally pragmatically.
Lincoln focuses it's attentions on the debates both in congress and behind the scenes within the seemingly cavernous rooms of the White House. The arguments and anecdotes about the meaning of freedom, and the race differences. The film attempts to show the bureaucratic and labyrinthine nature of policy change, let alone the grievances of changing the constitution written out in 1776. Tommy Lee Jones plays Thaddeus Stevens, a staunch opponent of slavery, and advocate of total freedom for blacks. As his story unfolds in congress, his secret personal life reveals itself almost revelatory in its conclusion. Small moments of comic vignette are provided by James Spader's Lobbyist W. N. Bilbo, and his crew, as they attempt to persuade democrats and republicans to vote for the passing of the 13th Amendment. Bilbo is seen in congress, sitting in the public seat mezzanine, providing character exposition, commentary and funny observations with his cohorts, like the two old men, Statler and Waldorf, in The Muppet Show. However, these escapades offer nothing more tangible than a little relief from the seriousness of the politics. Of course, with Spielberg attached to this project, the politics is also backed up with the emotional core of the Lincoln family. Sally Field plays the grief stricken wife, Mary, who is struggling after the death of a son.
Lincoln shows an ambiguous family, whose inner conflict juxtaposes the husband and the politician. In scenes with Mary, Lincoln is defensive, conflicting with the emotional stability of his wife. He has emotional detachments from his youngest son, whilst the visiting Robert Lincoln (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), battles with his father to join the civil war, a path that the president does not want for him. The American civil war was a brutal war, mechanised by the rise of the industrial revolution, leading to hundreds of thousands of dead and wounded. Whilst the scenes between son and wife are well scripted and acted, their presence seems secondary to what will, in part, contribute to awards heavy adulation of the Day-Lewis performance. Not only does he portray a president adored throughout history, but the script gives the actor a series of hyperbolic and anecdotal monologues. In practically all of Day-Lewis's performances, he has a moment in which he orates a lengthy, passionate speech, bringing stories to their emotional peek. In Lincoln, he almost explicitly has one of these fervent, impassioned moments, in every scene in which he is sitting. They are often humorous, but after a while, the obvious pleas for Oscar recognition, and fundamentally, to over emphasis the man as a great orator, and a man of complete honour and tolerance.
Undeniably, the film is sumptuously beautiful to look at. Cinematographer Janusz Kaminski conjures up a dark, candle-lit and fire-lit image when photographing inside. The minimal light, and contemporary decor, produces a palate of ochre's and earthy colours. When shooting outside, the grey of January winter bleeds from the sky into the skin of the characters, and the spacious clutter of buildings. The film juxtaposes these primitive images of the mid-ninetieth century surroundings with the very modern debates of morality and enslavement. There is a clear reason why Lincoln has been made in 2012. Lincoln's status as the emancipator of the black population, his image (still exploited for financial gain today in America), and his outstanding myth, were used during current president, Barack Obama's, presidential campaign in 2008. His myth is enduring (his Washington D.C. monument being the sight in which Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke publicly about the failure of the Emancipation Proclamation to truly free black people in America), but his (and Day-Lewis's) performance as a saviour and saint, would always win over a nation of people whose emotional attachment to their history can be easily manipulated and perpetuated through mass communication (newspaper, film, television, Internet), and fact and fiction merge to create an acceptable narrative.
Lincoln is an interesting film. The machinations of politics are a subject that should be relevant to most people in this period where nefarious politics are happening in plain sight, but whose unknown activities are most likely darker and fundamentally scarier than is possible to imagine. This Lincoln has very slight moments of enigma, his character is at times inscrutable, but the film doesn't offer insight into these confusions of intention or social outlook. However, when these ambiguities present themselves, they are soon reversed by ever-present adoration of the historical figure, this is perfectly illustrated in the closing moments. The film uncomfortably and unnecessarily attaches Lincoln's death scene at the end (which occurred two or three months after the time period the film is set). A tactic that opens the film into stomach churning celebration and lionising, where his famous speech lingers over the ghost on Lincoln, the generic emotional music of John Williams echoing into the credits. It's a shame the filmmakers perpetuated the myth instead of penetrating a character whose true identity is clouded in over a century of storytelling, and pseudo-religious worship. A missed opportunity perhaps, but Lincoln seems to have been made at this time to simply highlight to the world the social and political progress that has been made in America, from the passing of the 13th amendment, to the inaugaration of Barack Obama in 2008: Well done America, you're so enlightened (sic)!
Greengrass goes for all-out action here, barely stopping to catch its breath as the film squeezes tension out of the most ordinary of places and situations, and delivering set-pieces that dwarf anything that came before. There's no doubting that Bourne will make it out of this film alive, and no matter how dire the situations the superhuman find himself in as shady CIA heads Noah Vosen (David Strathairn) and the returning Pam Landy (Joan Allen) track him down using every conceivable piece of spy equipment at their disposal, you know he will somehow find a way to smash his way out. What makes Ultimatum so miraculous is how Greengrass manages to still keep things grounded, whether it's watching Bourne pummel an assassin with a leather-bound book or causing carnage on the streets of New York.
