It's been many years since I last saw Tony Scott's True Romance, huddled up in my bedroom as a young teenager in fear of being caught with my older brother's VHS. I loved it then and I still like it very much, but it never struck me before just how much of a boy's fantasy the film is. This is a story in which a comic-book store worker forms a relationship with a gorgeous hooker-with-a-heart and successfully avenges her mistreatment at the hands of a despicable pimp, all before riding off to Hollywood with a case full of cocaine and dreams of an early retirement in mind. This is no surprise when you see who was behind the script - a young Quentin Tarantino - who at the time of writing was working in a video store dreaming of bigger and better things. But the fact that this is a fantasy isn't a bad thing. True Romance sweeps you up into its universe of outlaw love, mean-spirited gangsters and the ghost of Elvis Presley and doesn't allow you to pause for breath.
The hero at the centre of the story is Clarence Worley (Christian Slater). We meet him in a bar trying to chat up a woman by expressing his love for Elvis and inviting her to join him in a Sonny Chiba triple bill playing at the local theatre. You can almost imagine Tarantino speaking these words and being hit with a rejection, but Clarence is Tarantino's creation, so he has popcorn spilled over him by an attractive blonde named Alabama (Patricia Arquette) as he sits watching one of The Streefighter films alone. The two hit it off and spend the night together, before she reveals she is actually a call girl hired by his friends (the name should have been a hint). But she actually falls in love with Clarence, and him with her, and the two are quickly married before Clarence's attention turns to the pimp who is still holding her belongings, the milky-eyed and dreadlocked Drexl (Gary Oldman). Their confrontation leaves Clarence in possession of a suitcase chocked full of cocaine, so the newly weds head to Los Angeles to find a buyer, with the help of their clueless contact and aspiring actor Dick (Michael Rapaport).
Their road trip allows the opportunity for some familiar faces to flex their acting chops with the assistance of Tarantino's impeccable screenplay, including the likes of Dennis Hopper as Clarence's estranged father, Christopher Walken as fearsome gangster Don Vincenzo, Brad Pitt as Dick's useless stoner roommate Floyd, and a noticeably thinner James Gandolfini as one of Vincenzo's more sadistic thugs. It's a fast and furious two hours, with so much going on that you're barely given time to stop and realise that nothing much really adds up. The film sweeps you up into its silliness, forcing you to bow down to its own particular brand of cool. If you've seen Tarantino's directorial debut Reservoir Dogs, then many of True Romance's story beats will feel familiar (the story carefully moves its characters into place so they will eventually be in the same room at the same time with loaded guns pointed at each other), but Scott's style and energy make the ride exhilarating. The two leads are charming, with Slater convincing as a geek-turned-loose cannon and Arquette portraying just the right blend of cute and sexy, but the real star is Tarantino, who somehow manages to turn an adolescent fantasy into an exciting thrill ride.
The production companies behind The Hitman's Bodyguard, a buddy comedy starring Ryan Reynolds and Samuel L. Jackson, tried their very best to achieve an R-rating. That is, to throw in every swear word under the sun and puncture this otherwise generic and old-fashioned action flick with bone-crunching violence and CGI blood-spurting. But this is no Shane Black movie. Directed by The Expendables 3's Patrick Hughes and with a script by relative newcomer Tom O'Connor, The Hitman's Bodyguard fails to find the correct balance between humour, action and tone to warrant comparison to the likes of The Last Boy Scout or, more recently, The Nice Guys. The film simply lets the actors do what they are known best for and hopes for a positive outcome.
It begins by introducing UK-based security expert Michael Bryce (Reynolds), who prides himself on a triple-A rating and the fact that none of the rich types who employ his services have died under his protection. But his luxurious life and untarnished reputation comes to a grinding halt when a Japanese arms dealer receives a bullet through the brain. A couple of years later, Bryce has been demoted to protecting scumbags like the cocaine-snorting businessman Mr. Seifert (Richard E. Grant). He sees an opportunity to redeem himself when Interpol agent and ex-girlfriend Amelia Roussel (Elodie Yung) tasks him with transporting notorious hitman Darius Kincaid (Jackson) from Manchester to Amsterdam so he can testify in court. Only the man he is testifying against, Belarusian dictator Vladislav Dukhovich (a sleepwalking Gary Oldman), uses all of his power to disrupt their passage.
The two lead stars, regardless of how much fun it's looks like they're having, fail to inject much life into The Hitman's Bodyguard. Reynolds does his deadpan motormouth thing (Bryce is basically Deadpool without the costume or ability to regenerate limbs) and Jackson gets to scream "motherfucker!" a hell of a lot, but this simply isn't enough to justify the lack of any real jokes. There's the odd well-earned snigger, but you have to get through a lot of shouting to reach them, with Salma Hayek receiving the most thankless task as Kilcaid's sweary incarcerated wife. The action also fails to deliver. Although a boat chase through Amsterdam's canals is just preposterous enough to fleetingly entertain, the fights lack physicality and the gun-play is deprived of invention, with little real threat from the endless waves of Dukhovich's leather jacket-wearing goons. When a film feels the need to insert a fart joke, you know you're in trouble.
2017 saw cinema give us the complete Dunkirk experience: first with Christopher Nolan's ground-level, soldiers-eye view of one of the main turning points of World War II, and later with this, Joe Wright's Darkest Hour, told from the point-of-view of the stuffy politicians back at home shouting at each other in dark rooms. While over 300,000 brave men waited for evacuation as the German army closed in around them, Winston Churchill had just been sworn in as prime minister and was left with the unenvious task of dealing with Adolf Hitler, a man Churchill's predecessor Neville Chamberlain had been hoping to strike a peace deal with. As history tells it, Churchill knew the futility of trying to reason with a murderous tyrant and that the only outcome was war, but he had to rally his cabinet and deal with the Dunkirk situation at the same time.
Simply put, Darkest Hour is pure Oscar-bait. Ignoring the question of why yet another biopic of one of Britain's most iconic historic figures is needed in a year that had already seen the Brian Cox-starring Churchill, this is another shameless entry into the ongoing series of middlebrow British period dramas which also include fellow awards-favourites The Queen and The King's Speech. Sparing us the full biopic treatment, Darkest Hour starts in 1940 just as Churchill is chosen to lead the country in the wake of Chamberlain's ousting. Played by Gary Oldman in heavy prosthetics, the man who enjoys champagne with his breakfast and dictates his letters still dressed in his pyjamas charges into the situation like a bull in a china shop, out-shouting those who attempt to fast-track peace talks or undermine him. It's a good performance, and one that will almost definitely win Oldman an overdue Best Actor award. But it still feels like an impression, and despite some attempts to humanise the man with moments of self-doubt, we never break the tough, saggy surface.
Joe Wright has touched on the events of Dunkirk before with 2007's Atonement, a surprisingly moving and powerful love story that featured an impressive tracking shot along the battered beach. Atonement felt like it was created by a film-maker, while Darkest Hour feels like it was sculpted by a committee hoping to overcrowd their posters with lists of their awards nominations. It feels artificial to the point of patronising, with long shots of the smiling working class going about their business as Churchill cruises by trying to get a feel of the public's mood. This is later taken even further he ventures into the London underground on his own to chat with the common folk in a scene that is so out of place it feels like nails down a blackboard. Even worse are the brief moments of battle. CGI bombs are dropped and followed by the camera in a scene that harks back to Pearl Harbor. Impressive supporting turns by Ben Mendelsohn as King George IV and Ronald Pickip as a sympathetic, terminally-ill Chamberlain lighten the mood, while Kristen Scott Thomas, Lily James and Stephen Dillane do the most with what they are given as supportive wife, framing device and sneering villain, respectively. In these times of political uncertainty, Darkest Hour should have had me waving my fist with patriotic pride, but I could barely muster a twitch of the eyebrow.
Artist-turned-director Julian Schnabel's re-creation of the New York art scene of the early 1980's is captured with the authenticity of a photograph from the time come to life. If anybody should be familiar with the vibrant energy and atmosphere of this era, it would be Schnabel, as he brushed shoulders with the likes of Andy Warhol and the topic of his debut feature, Jean-Michel Basquiat, as a key contributor to the American 'Neo-Expressionism' movement himself. What the film fails to do however, is capture the driving force behind Basquiat's art and the demons that drove him to heroin, which is odd given that Schnabel - here thinly disguised as a character played by Gary Oldman - was close friends with Basquiat.
Born into a middle-class family in New York to parents of Haitian and Puerto Rican descent, we first meet a 20 year-old Basquiat, played by Jeffrey Wright, living in a cardboard box. Already a cult figure in the city thanks to his spray-painted poetry under the guise of 'SAMO', a chance encounter with Andy Warhol (David Bowie) and art dealer Bruno Bischofberger (Dennis Hopper) propels him to the front-and-centre of the art scene. Basquiat is charming and charismatic, but also detached and inwardly focused. While this may compliment his art, he remains a mystery to his girlfriend Gina (Claire Forlani) and becomes clinically depressed when an article dubs him Warhol's 'mascot'. Wright gets all the mannerisms and facial expressions spot on, but he also bring a deep soulfulness to what is a terrific, career-making performance.
Peppered with a massive supporting cast that also includes Benicio Del Toro, Michael Wincott, Parker Posey, Willem Dafoe, Christopher Walken, Tatum O'Neal and Courtney Love, Basquiat seems frequently distracted and never really goes deep enough to unravel the thought processes of the enigmatic artist. There are moments of undeniable beauty - Basquiat dreams of moving to Hawaii and imagines the New York skyline as a surfer catching a wave - and there is a building air of tragedy as he begins his inevitable decline into isolation and drug addiction, but the film follows the familiar biopic formula to a tee. See it for the wonderful sense of time and place, and a truly astonishing performance from Wright.
Long before Nick Love was helping stockpile DVD bargain bins with those terrible football hooligan movies (including a remake of this film), Alan Clarke - the highly underrated director responsible for such landmark British TV dramas Scum (1979) and Made in Britain (1982) - released The Firm, causing a moral public outcry that was the fashion of Thatcher-era Britain in the process. On the surface, it seems to glamorise these yobs and their violent tendencies, but viewing it in hindsight, it's actually about a Britain suddenly awash with money during the 'Lawson Boom', with the thugs caught up in it having grown bored and seeking out that extra buzz they receive from brutality.
Although they are essentially 'football' hooligans, Clarke makes a point of showing little of the game itself. Apart from the glimpse of Arsenal's old Highbury stadium and a Sunday-league kick-about at the start, the beautiful game is little more than an excuse for these idiots to go to town on each other. ICC ringleader Bex (Gary Oldman) hopes to unite rival firms in order to take on the Europeans in the upcoming Europeans Championships, but his opposite numbers, including the particularly loathsome Yeti (Philip Davis) of the Buccaneers, inform him that his firm must rumble with theirs first if he wants to be top dog. This however is only a loose plot that binds together what is ultimately a slice-of-life approach.
While the media portrayed these men as disaffected youth, a lot of them were in fact middle-class, able to afford fancy cars and suburban housing. Bex is happily married with a young son, making a comfortable living as an estate agent. When his son picks up his father's Stanley knife and starts to chew it, Bex's domestic life is thrown into disarray. It's in these quieter moments that the film is at its most disturbing, and in truth, there is less violence on show than the controversy drummed up on its release would have you believe. And when it does come - a young ICC member gets a particularly nasty face slashing - its all the more powerful. The open-ended final scene holds back from making any overt social or political statements but instead lingers with an observant fascination at these lager-swilling arseholes. Like with Scum and Made in Britain, The Firm defines the mentality of Britain at the time, and features what is undoubtedly Oldman's finest performance.
The idea of a thriller/murder mystery set in the 1950's Soviet Union, where to be accused is to be found guilty and the majority of the population live in state of constant paranoia, starring such acting powerhouses as Tom Hardy, Noomi Rapace, Gary Oldman, Paddy Considine and Jason Clarke, who have all starred in some damn fine movies over the past few years, would make one assume they were in for a guaranteed masterpiece. Based on Tom Rob Smith's 2008 novel, the first of a trilogy, Child 44 the film is overstuffed with disconnected sub-plots, mud-brown grimness, rushed storytelling. and a smorgasbord of thick Russian accents delivered by a mostly European from a variety of countries apart from Russia.
Beginning in a war-town Ukraine where starvation has wiped out a bulk of the population, young Leo Demidov (Hardy) escapes an orphanage and into the arms of a sympathetic soldier, who adopts him and gives him a home. Years later, and Leo is a war hero, having his picture taken raising the flag of the U.S.S.R. over Berlin, and has a beautiful wife in Raisa (Rapace). While the country lives in fear, Leo and his comrades dine in fine restaurants. He is an obedient soldier, hunting down and capturing suspected traitor Anatoly (Clarke), but also shows restraint and empathy in his work, trying to convince Anatoly to confess to escape his inevitable torture and execution, and dressing down fellow soldier Vasili (Joel Kinnaman), a known coward from the war, when he executes a peasant couple in cold blood.
Vasili, who rises through the ranks to become understudy to Major Kuzmin (Vincent Cassel), becomes Leo's nemesis. When Leo is called in to investigate a gang of citizens suspected of working against the state, Raisa is implicated, possibly by Vasili as a grudge against the man who humiliated him in the field. Leo must face a choice of giving up the woman he genuinely loves, or handing her over and maintaining his social position. Meanwhile, the child of one of Leo's friends is murdered, and may possibly be connected to other murders that have happened in the vicinity. But the higher-ups fails to acknowledge the murders, as serial killers can only be the product of capitalism, and there are no murders in paradise. Leo, refusing to hand his wife over, is sent to take a demeaning position in Volsk, operating under the command of General Nesterov (Oldman), where more bodies are found.
Child 44 has all the ingredients for an intense whodunit and character study from a time and place rarely depicted by mainstream cinema. I haven't read Smith's book, but judging from the critical praise and awards lavished upon it, director Daniel Espinosa, best known for action fare Easy Money (2010) and Safe House (2012), seems to have only skimmed the back cover, forgetting to add anything resembling tension or believable character development. 2006's German masterpiece The Lives of Others created an overwhelming sense of fear and paranoia within its characters, but Espinosa seems to be more invested in rushing his way through the plot to get to an end that is in no way satisfying. The performances, despite being burdened with thick Russian accents (though the cast generally stay on the right side of those Compare the Meerkat adverts), are solid, although Oldman and Considine are wasted. At 137 minutes, the film feels long when it should feel short, and you get the idea that this may have worked better as a mini-series, where better care could have been taken to tell the story with the patience it deserved.
Very few expected 2011's reboot of a franchise - so clinically killed off by Tim Burton and his failure to grasp the idea of narrative sense - to be any good at all. Yet Rupert Wyatt's Rise of the Planet of the Apes was not only excellent as a thrilling action movie, but also carefully laid-out and thoughtful in it's scientific approach to the disease that ultimately led to apes conquering Earth and replacing humans as the planet's alpha species. Such a surprising success naturally leads to sequels, and when a director so acclaimed in his delivery of the first instalment fails to re-sign on, disaster is expected. But the apes have done it again, and not only does Dawn stay faithful to it's predecessor's code of story over cheap thrills, but it surpasses it in quality, gradually evolving into a serious study of war.
Ten years after the events of the first film, most of humanity has been wiped out by ALZ-113 virus. The escaped apes from the first movie, namely chimpanzee Caesar (Andy Serkis), bonobo Koba (Toby Kebbell, replacing Christopher Gordon), and orangutan Maurice (Karin Konoval), are living peacefully in the woods believing the human race to be extinct. They communicate using sign language, though a few of them have learnt some words, and exist peacefully as a multi-ethical community. Caesar has two sons by Cornelia (Judy Greer) - Blue Eyes (Nick Thurston) and a newborn - and is the alpha with the facially and emotionally scarred Koba as his second-in-command.
Unbeknownst to the apes, a small group of humans still dwell in the city, running out of the power supply that is keeping them alive. Led by Dreyfus (Gary Oldman) and Malcolm (Jason Clarke), the pack is living together in a huge building amongst the decaying city outside. A small expedition into the woods leads to trigger-happy member Carver (Oz's Kirk Acevedo) shooting an ape in the head in fear. Caesar and his extended army confront them, but Caesar's sympathetic view of humans leads to him allowing them to return to the city, demanding they leave in human speech. Malcolm is astonished at the ape's intelligence and charisma, and returns with his girlfriend (Keri Russell) and son (Kodi Smit-McPhee) to treat with him.
The cinematography and set design are astonishing, The movie doesn't just give us a plastic apocalyptic world full of CGI-laden establishing shots, but a world that feels real and lived-in. And interacting in this world are some of the greatest special effects in the history of cinema. WETA have outdone themselves here, not only managing to blend motion-capture in an exterior environment seamlessly, but also allowing the actors behind the effects to act. A lot has been written about Serkis's portrayal of Caesar, and it is the actor's best performance to date, but Kebbell too manages to bring emotion and devastation to Koba's face, bringing an astonishing complexity to what could have been a stock antagonist. When the two interact, it feels real. You tend not to gasp at the effects because it simply feels like there aren't any.
When the inevitable smack-down ensues, it's after some spellbinding drama. There's no cut-and-dry good and bad guys, just the inevitable roll towards blood-shed. There's blame on both sides in equal measure, and it comments heavily on both species' natural inclination to go to war. They live peacefully apart, but once they discover each other things start to fall apart out of desire, greed and most of all, fear. The action is utterly thrilling, and although it offers such treats as the sight of an ape firing two machine gun's whilst riding a horse, it's mainly because we are so engrossed in the character's stories. Serkis and Kebbell deserve Oscar recognition, but probably won't get it. Tim Burton's ghastly 2001 effort has been near-enough wiped from memory, and this new franchise will surely go from strength to strength.
When we are introduced to the various foul-mouthed, chain-smoking, poverty-stricken characters in Gary Oldman's one and only directorial credit, Nil By Mouth, they are gathered in a working club telling stories about people and events we are not privy to. Any establishing character introductions would betray the authenticity of Oldman's searing drama. These are real people, or seem like they are, so we get to endure their mundane and often repulsive conversations as if we've known them for years. And it feels like we have. The product of their social class means they're stuck in their routines; the men indulging in coke-fuelled benders, and the women are just happy to be out of the house.
Dedicated to his father, Nil by Mouth is clearly autobiographical, or at least based on Oldman's experiences growing up in a council flat in South East London. Focusing essentially on three main characters - Ray (Ray Winstone), a booze-addled, violent abuser, Valerie (Kathy Burke), his bullied and terrorised wife, and Valerie's brother Billy (Charlie Creed-Miles), a young heroin-addict relying on his mother Janet (Laila Morse) to fund his habit - the film doesn't really tell a clear-cut story, but instead immerses you in it's environment. Dialogue is fast, naturalistic and often hard to follow, and long scenes often do little other than force you to listen to these people's everyday ramblings.
Anyone looking for a pleasant experience may do better to look elsewhere, as no punches are pulled. Plenty are thrown, however, as Ray's jealousy over a man he sees Valerie playing pool with - innocently - erupts into a horrific scene of domestic violence. Even more heartbreaking is the next scene, as her mother sees her daughter's battered face for the first time and must listen to her cover story, being fully aware of Ray's violence tendencies. Laila Morse (an anagram of the Italian phrase for 'my sister') is Gary Oldman's sister, and although she had no formal acting experience before the film, she may just be the best thing in it. Her expression of helplessness at the sight of her son shooting up in the back of her van is incredibly powerful.
As the film goes on, we do eventually learn more about these characters. Ray may be the clear-cut monster on the surface, but there is some sympathy to be had. In a scene following a particularly self-destructive bender, Ray explains to his friend Mark (Jamie Foreman) that he had no love from his father. Beneath the bulldog exterior lies a rather pathetic and self-pitying man, unable to communicate anything to his wife to the point where they seem to exist in different rooms in their cramped flat. Not since John Cassavetes has a film so successfully portrayed the tragedy of male machismo. With Eric Clapton's wonderfully bluesy score blaring throughout, the filmis drenched in atmosphere while maintaining the sense of reality. It's by no means an easy watch, but Nil by Mouth is cinema at it's most raw.
Back in 2007, with the impending arrival of J.K. Rowling's seventh and final instalment novel and this, the release of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Pottermania was at astronomical levels. A director new to the franchise was introduced, David Yates, who seemed a shrewd choice given his track record in British TV, but in hindsight, his inexperience with blockbusters proved slightly harmful to the franchise. It became difficult to cram Rowling's increasingly sprawling novels into a two hour-plus film, and Yates (along with fellow newcomer Michael Goldenberg penning the script), struggled to juggle the emotional drama so delicately handled by Cuaron and Newell before him, along with the CGI-heavy action.
With the horrors he witnessed at the climax of Goblet of Fire still lingering in his mind, Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) finds himself returning to a wizarding world in denial. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge (Robert Hardy), refuses to believe the Dark Lord has returned, and half the pupils at Hogwarts accuse Harry of being an attention-seeker. Even Professor Dumbledore (Michael Gambon), who has always protected Harry, seems to ignore him. Only his close friends Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson), and the strange new pupil Luna Lovegood (Evanna Lynch), stick by him inside school. Outside, Harry is encouraged by his surrogate father Sirius Black (Gary Oldman), who is part of the Order of the Phoenix, a small group of wizards preparing the upcoming war with Voldemort.
Everything about Order of the Phoenix is suitably grim. The opening scene in which Harry and his repulsive muggle cousin Dudley (Harry Melling) meet a couple of hungry Dementors, shows Harry's world as dry, cracked and grim. It suits Harry mood, with his first experience of witnessing death still haunting him, and the frustration of being ignored making him quick to anger. Hogwarts is also no longer a safe retreat for the pupils, as the introduction of Ministry of Magic worker Dolores Umbridge (Imelda Staunton) sees the school of wizardry infiltrated, and Voldemort's true aims become clearer.
The politics were more carefully laid out in the novel, and it's here that Yates stumbles. Umbridge's fascist approach is clear as day, to the point of making Harry write lines that scratch into his skin, but the effect it has on the changing attitudes towards 'mudbloods' such as Hermione (wizards born out of non-magical parents) and half-breeds like the formidable centaurs lurking in the forest, is all but ignored. The climax at the Ministry of Magic, which sees Harry and Voldemort both seeking a prophecy, is messy, as it was in the book. It works well when focusing on Harry and his demons, and Radcliffe again performs well, but integrating them with the enormous ensemble and the overarching story is where it falls flat.
With Chris Columbus abdicating at the sight of dark material, the Harry Potter was gratefully gobbled up by Alfonso Cuaron, a director having only at that point turned heads with the incredibly sexy Y Tu Mama Tambien (2001). This is a vastly different Potter to that which came before. When his dead parents are insulted by an obnoxious aunt (Pam Ferris), Harry blows her out of the window, kicking his bedroom cupboard in a rage. There's no plinky-plonky music or pie-in-the-face sight gags, and when Harry steps outside of his house, the streets are grey and grim, not a cosy suburban horror show.
After fleeing another run-in with the Dursleys, Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) hops on the Knight Bus, which takes him to the Leaky Cauldron where he is to learn his fate having used magic outside of Hogwarts. Best friends Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson) are there waiting for him, when they all learn that convicted serial killer Sirius Black (Gary Oldman) has escaped from notorious prison Azkaban, possibly with Harry in his sights. With the ghostly guardians of Azkaban, the Dementors, surrounding Hogwarts in search of Black, Harry finds his own life in danger, and seeks help from new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and friend of his parents, Professor Lupin (David Thewlis).
With Columbus's kid-friendly approach ditched and Cuaron's more focused direction, the franchise at this point could finally be taken seriously, with real threats finally entering Harry's life, and the trio's characters hitting puberty and becoming more feisty in the process. Cuaron also wisely adapted the book, rather than simply filming the pages, and this is noticeably shorter than it's predecessors despite being the biggest book at this point. Hermione is less precocious, Ron is less gurny, and Daniel Radcliffe finally puts in a decent performance. He isn't perfect, but there's a delightful eccentricity to the actor's mannerisms which make him endearing to watch.
Apart from a climax that makes as little sense as it does in the novel, the story is also more gripping. We finally see Harry's past intertwine with his present, with revelations coming out of the woodwork, and Harry finally starting to learn more about his parents. There's also some genuinely frightening scenes, including the Dementors - hooded, faceless ghouls - and a scene involving a certain character's dangerous affliction. In Cuaron's hands, Harry Potter is genuinely magic, funny when it should be, dark when it needs to be, and it's rather disappointing he didn't go on to direct more of them.
Prohibition-era America is incredibly rich in narrative and mythology. Behind the realities of the great economic depression the underbelly of society rise in criminal organisation, creating the underworld of bootleg alcohol and the clandestine drinking establishments known as speakeasies. With this specific historical backdrop, American cinema has created a glamorised iconography of the 1930's, the idolised gangsters and almost politically justified violence. Lawless only briefly flirts with the glamour of this period, but believes in the self-appointed mythology of it's characters. John Hillcoat and Nick Cave's film embeds itself within the roots, straight to the source of the big city's modern attractions. We're not in Al Capone's Chicago, but deep in the heart of the American wilderness, Franklin County, Virginia.
The three Bondurant brothers, Howard (Jason Clarke), Forest (Tom Hardy), and Jack (Shia LeBeouf), run a moonshine operation in the sparsely populated backwater town, and despite the national prohibition laws, local authorities participate in alcohol consumption. But even within the moral vacuum of Virginia, the modern corruption and perversity's of the city will inevitably invade. Guy Pearce's sinister and narcissistic "lawman", Charlie Rakes, infects the rustic landscape with his false malevolence. Pearce shaves his eyebrows off for the role, bringing a visual nod towards the characters vanity. His appearance is impeccable, and an odour of perfume is alluded to on occasion, a veneer that hides a deeply sadistic human, a character who also flaunts his wealth within poverty perhaps a signifier of our current perception of the suited banker.
In American Gothic traditions, surrounding the three brothers is a legend perpetuated within the small community, a superstition created out of perceived supernatural beginnings. After the two older brothers escape death in situations where others perished, a myth is attached to them suggesting that the Bondurants are invincible, a narrative that opens a niche in the community where they are impervious to the nations laws. Tom Hardy's middle child is the centre of this family unit, and his hulking presence tersely guides them, where as the elder, Howard, is the fearless bulldog, throwing himself at anything in their way. Forest's violence is calculated, he seems too bulky and clumsy in his laconic mannerisms, but, as in a scene in their bar, a densely packed burst of violence culminates in some horrifically graphic images. Believing your own myth is central to Lawless. Because of this belief, their confidence knows no boundaries. Even the audience is given the evidence to believe, when Forest survives having his throat hacked open.
Whilst the older brothers battle to keep equilibrium, attempting to block the outside, modern world from intruding upon their traditions and redneck hokum, Lawless is fundamentally about the younger Jack, and LeBeouf gives his best performance to date. His character is set up perfectly when witnessing Floyd Banner (Gary Oldman) crashing through the small community, tommygun rattling at the car of his pursuers, the idealised image of gangster chic. Jack idolises these city criminals like teenagers idolise idiot pseudo-celebrity today, highlighting his naivete as he looks into this world from the outside. What comes with Jacks hero-worship is an unwavering ambition to take the bootlegging business further. LeBeouf balances Jack's progression with great intensity, managing the conflicting mix of gullibility and confrontational confidence. Whilst not a perfect performance, I saw a bit of Tom Hanks in LeBeouf.
Like Hillcoat's previous films The Proposition (2005) and The Road (2008), Lawless evokes the visual textures of the landscape. The first in the Australian outback, secondly in a post-apocalyptic world, working again with cinematographer Benoit Delhomme (who collaborated previously on The Proposition), the environment permeates the screen, the dust kicked up from informally created roads, scattered over the wooden, man-made structures, the grit and grime forming with the sticky blood as Jack is violently beaten to the ground by Rakes. The untouched landscape can be both beautiful and malevolent.
A film about corruption, and particularly the long hand that breaks from the city limits to corrupt further afield. 2012 is possibly the perfect time to reflect upon this 21st century depression, and remember not to worship false idols. Nick Cave based his terse screenplay on a novel by Matt Bondurant (grandson of Jack), and obviously is based upon a true story. Whether much has been passed down through the family with ambiguities, the Chinese whisper of myth making is unknown, but the Bondurant brothers seem mythical. Their involvement in a national epidemic, the superstition of death-dodging all add to their own sense of power and the towns fear of them. Are they supernatural heroes of the American psyche? Or, do the older brothers reflect the defeated world of the Wall Street crash, whilst the younger reaches out to the celebrity world of high-class gangster, looking to a future of wealth? It's an interesting inclusion into the reflective nature of cyclical history. As we continue through our own economic crisis, we look back to the past to compare, and check on our evolution, if there is any at all.
After a four-year wait, Christopher Nolan's epic Batman trilogy comes to a close to be inevitably branded the greatest superhero trilogy ever made. Even with the films growing increasingly darker and less traditional in the blockbuster sense, Warner Bros. gave Nolan free reign following the huge success of The Dark Knight (2008), both critically and commercially, and he has truly delivered once again with this shockingly intense and often quite unpleasant action-drama. This is a superhero film with no superhero, and a Batman film without Batman for very long periods. Unconventional in every sense, it often feels like it shares the epic scope of TV series The Wire, threading together multiple plots and sub-plots to form a vast story of a city in turmoil, and a man pushing himself to the limits of his capability.
Picking up eight years after The Dark Knight, Lt. Gordon (Gary Oldman) honours the legacy of Harvey Dent, torn at holding the truth of Dent's insanity and demise from the optimistic citizens. Gotham City's streets are almost completely free of crime, with the exiled Batman (Christian Bale) still public enemy number one following his decision to take the blame for Dent's crimes. As a result of this, Bruce Wayne is living a reclusive life behind the walls of his empty mansion, crippled due to his years as Batman. Arriving in Gotham is missionary Bane (Tom Hardy), a hulking terrorist intent on bringing down the city's stock exchange and punishing the rich for their social crimes. Wayne decides to don the suit once again, and learns about Bane through cat burglar Selina Kyle (Anne Hathaway), only to find that he is more than Batman's match both physically and mentally.
Like the first sequel, it's difficult to sum up the film's labyrinth plot. I haven't even mentioned two of the film's new characters or covered anything relating to their story arcs which truly sums up the complexity and depth to Nolan's story. Wayne Enterprises is invested in a clean energy project, headed by Miranda (Marion Cotillard), who have developed a machine that could harness fusion power, which with modification, could be used as a nuclear weapon. Naturally, Bane sees this as the perfect thing to steal in order to bring destruction to Gotham. And with Gordon hospitalised by Bane, rookie cop Blake (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), a young man who idolises Batman and knows the truth of his identity, is promoted to detective in order to investigate Bane's intentions and his link to Wayne Enterprises board member Daggett (Ben Mendelsohn).
If all this sounds confusing, then it kinda is. The first forty minutes or so is slow-moving, and is busy jumping between characters new and old, and setting up many sub-plots. It is admittedly a lot to take in, and Nolan doesn't quite have as full a grasp of the narrative as he had with the first two movies. Thankfully, when Bane is introduced and things start to kick off, it is quite difficult to care too much. This is, after all, fifteen minutes shy of three hours long, so there's plenty of time to pack the film. And Bane proves a hugely effective new villain, and although he would always suffer in comparison to Heath Ledger's Joker, Tom Hardy's creation is a formidable monster.
To give Batman his ultimate test, Nolan has given Bane the physically of a gorilla and the voice of a muffled Sean Connery. If that doesn't sound exactly scary, well, he is. His first meeting with Batman leads to the most brutal and ugliest fight ever created. There is nothing remotely elegant about Bane, he uses fists, knees, elbows and his forehead to batter his opponents to a bloody pulp, without showing a flicker of remorse or even acknowledgement. There have been criticisms stating that Bane is difficult to understand under his metallic mask, but although it is quite strange at first, his voice is hugely effective, rattling the cinema's speakers to the point where I actually felt uncomfortable watching him. He is not as layered or quite as memorable as the Joker, but his presence is undeniable, and Hardy deserves every accolade he gets.
This is by far the most emotional of the trilogy, with Wayne facing almost certain death coming up against Bane. Bale gives his finest performance as Wayne, and his scenes with loyal butler Alfred (Michael Caine), who wants nothing more than to see Wayne lead a normal, happy life, prove profoundly moving, with Caine giving a sensational performance. It is Selina Kyle who ultimately brings Wayne out of his nest, and it was her character that gave me the most concerns going into this film. My fears were, sadly, justified, as Kyle proves to be character giving the cheesy one-liners and ends up being a distraction and a slight contradiction to Nolan's dark, grounded Batman universe. Hathaway is brilliant in the role, proving as sexy and as sly as you want Catwoman to be, but it is ultimately the character that annoys.
But in the end, the flaws become a minor blip in what is ultimately a sensational climax to a truly great trilogy. This is not a fun film, and although it is packed with action scenes as exciting and absorbing as anything I've ever seen (the massive climax is mind-blowing), I found it quite psychologically tormenting. This is a superhero movie where police officer's are massacred, a character's skull is crushed with bare hands, and the film's hero is given one of the most severe beatings in recent memory. As good as I could have ever hoped the film to be in the wake of its admittedly superior predecessor, and a finale that will cement Christopher Nolan's vision as one of the greatest creations in big-budget film-making, and a historic stepping stone for the future of blockbusters.
After the little teaser at the end of Batman Begins (2005) which saw Lt. Gordon (Gary Oldman) show Batman (Christian Bale) a Joker card, signalling a new criminal in town, Christopher Nolan faced the task of bringing one of the most colourful and charismatic, and downright evil and psychopathic, villains in comic-book history to the screen. The role would always be Jack Nicholson's, who brought an eccentric performance in Tim Burton's original Batman (1989), but Nolan had a different take in mind. He was to go back to the roots of the Joker to find what really made him tick. Then he cast Heath Ledger, and the rest was history.
After Batman set out to inspire others to rise up against crime in the first film, Gotham City has a new 'white knight' in the shape of new District Attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart) who faces the challenge of taking down mob kingpin Maroni (Eric Roberts). Chinese accountant Lau (Chin Han) informs Maroni and his crew he has hidden the money they have been laundering through his banks as Dent and Lt. Gordon come down on them. Fleeing to China, Batman uses unorthodox means to bring him to back for questioning. Meanwhile, the psychotic Joker (Ledger), who has been stealing the mobs money, convinces them to employ him to kill Batman, and sets about causing anarchy across the city, promising to kill someone every day until Batman reveals his true identity.
Summing up the film's plot in a few sentences does not do The Dark Knight justice. Nolan has not made a superhero film here, instead he has created a colossal crime story that has more in common with Michael Mann's Heat (1995) than anything produced by Marvel in recent years. It's quite astonishing how he has managed to pack so much plot and incident into its 140 minute running time without ever losing focus, and keeping the film packed with exceptional set-pieces. If Begins felt slightly amateurish at times in terms of action cinema, Nolan has strutted into this film and given us clear and crisp scenes of bone-crunching fighting, as Batman carves his way through henchmen.
Yet the film will always be remembered for one thing, and that is Heath Ledger's Joker. His casting raised eyebrows at the time, wondering if the fuzzy-haired pretty boy from teen comedy 10 Things I Hate About You (1999) could take the mantle from Jack Nicholson and bring such a wild character into Nolan's grounded Batman universe. He answered his critics with aplomb, creating a now iconic character that will remain possibly the greatest villain ever created in cinema. His red smile has been replaced by large swollen scars, his green hair is greasy and badly maintained, his make-up patched with sweat, and his clothes tatty. "Gotham City deserves a better class of criminal, and I'm gonna give it to them," he says as he sets alight a stack of cash almost double his height. This is a Joker that cares about nothing but anarchy, having no ultimate purpose or goal.
Although the Joker steals the show, this is still Batman's film, with Nolan this time drawing on the similarities between the two characters. They are both freaks and outcasts, as the Joker points out, yet where Batman is fighting a seemingly ill-fated battle against a Gotham that has descended into chaos, the Joker embraces his place in the world as an outsider. In one exceptional scene, Batman interrogates him in a police cell, losing his code and battering the truth out of the Joker. Although Bale's ridiculous gravel-voiced Dark Knight will be parodied, Bale is again outstanding, switching between Patrick Bateman-esque arrogance as he puts on his playboy mask, and the tortured soul, watching his love Rachel Dawes (Maggie Gyllenhaal, replacing Katie Holmes) fall in love with Harvey Dent as he sacrifices himself for the sake of the city.
The supporting cast are solid and reliable as ever, with Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman and Gary Oldman bringing some real weight to the film. Aaron Eckhart, an actor I've felt has gone unappreciated for years after seeing him in the excellent In The Company of Men (1997), is a revelation as Dent. He is a man the city put their hopes into and is determined to make a difference, but the Joker's mayhem tests his sanity and his sense of justice, turning him into the twisted Two-Face (a role made ridiculous by Tommy Lee Jones in Batman Forever (1995)).
I watched this again for what must be the sixth time, and the first time I've seen it for some time, and was possibly blown away even more than any other viewing. Perhaps this time I was able to grasp the sheer scope and vision of Nolan's world, with he and his brother's screenplay being just as sharp as anything else that year, and the action scenes (which employ minimal CGI) simply explosive. But it is Ledger, ultimately, that will linger in the mind long after the credits roll, from his disappearing pencil magic trick, to his final monologue, his performance is beyond words, and wholly deserved his posthumous Academy Award. I highly doubt The Dark Knight Rises (2012) will surpass this film, but how could it? This is, after all, the greatest superhero film ever made, and I would assume will ever be.
Back in 1997, when the Batman franchise was given a thorough anal-raping and given cinema AIDS by director Joel Schumacher with the preposterous Batman & Robin, fans and audiences alike were left wondering if there was any hope left for one of the darkest and most complex 'superhero' characters in the comic-book world. Come 2005, up to this point, British director Christopher Nolan was still a relative maverick, having made indie breakthrough Following (1998), the mind-bending critical hit Memento (2000), and the solid re-make Insomnia (2002). Few realised that they were about to witness a re-defining of not only comic book adaptations, but blockbusters themselves.
We first meet Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) in a Bhutanese prison, where he is approached by the mysterious Ducard (Liam Neeson) who offers him a chance to learn to fight with the League of Shadows, a generations-old group that punishes criminality with an iron fist. As he trains, we learn about Wayne's childhood, where after falling into a well and developing a phobia of bats, witnesses his parents' murder. Returning to a Gotham believing him dead and in a state of utter tutmoil, he turns to faithful butler Alfred (Michael Caine) and Wayne Enterprises' weapons developer Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman) to turn him into a vigilante crime-fighter and a symbol of a stance against crime. He finds his childhood friend Rachel (Katie Holmes), the assistant district attorney, caught up in a scheme ran by Dr. Jonathan Crane (Cillian Murphy) to get mob boss Falcone's (Tom Wilkinson) thugs off with insanity pleas.
Tim Burton's once-definitive Batman (1989) made the mistake of having the film's villain The Joker engulf the majority of the film, keeping Michael Keaton's Batman almost in the background. Nolan knows that this is Batman's story, and wisely keeps the focus on Bale's anger-fuelled, guilt-ridden, and honourable leading character. In the hands of Nolan, Batman's origins are given the complexity it deserves, shifting back and forward in time to reveal more pieces to his jigsaw. This is no wise-cracking, tights-wearing Batman; when we meet him, he is giving a bunch of prison thugs a thorough beating, snapped legs and all. With the hugely talented Bale in the role, his character is given the weight it deserves - this is Nolan's world, and it is violent, real, and usually pissing down with rain.
As the norm since this film's release, Nolan has managed to gather a hugely-talented ensemble cast (and mainly British). While there is no obligatory main villain that may be a problem in anybody's else's hands, Nolan has instead given us a criminal ring for Batman to fight, from Wilkinson's ruthless crime boss, to Murphy's genuinely unsettling Scarecrow, who likes to fire his hallucinogenic poison in his victims' faces before donning his 'mask' (leading some some fine trippy moments). There is also Ra's Al-Ghul (Ken Watanabe), who plans to destroy Gotham along with Neeson's Ducard by infecting Gotham's water supply. With Gary Oldman's cop Jim Gordon, and Holmes' Rachel Dawes also in the mix, it may seem dangerously over-supplied with characters, but Nolan knows fully well how to handle such a large cast, tying their stories together with fine precision.
Having seen The Dark Knight (2008) and eagerly anticipating The Dark Knight Rises (2012), this admittedly pales in comparison, being that The Dark Knight was a phenomenal leap forward in big-budget film-making and an iconic film that will no doubt be remembered as one of the best of its decade. Also, the action scenes here are quickly-edited and shaky to the point where it is hard to tell what is happening, but Nolan would step up in confidence with the film's sequel and the proceeding Inception (2010). But as superhero origin stories go, this is probably second only to Superman (1978), and a welcome kick up the arse for one of the most enticing comic-book heroes in existence.
Retired British Intelligence officer George Smiley (Gary Oldman) is forced out of retirement to investigate a possible mole in the system. Ricky Tarr (Tom Hardy), a spy returning from overseas, confirms the suspicions after having a brief affair with a Soviet Agent, who revealed that an insider was passing information to the Russians. Assisted by Peter Guillam (Benedict Cumberbatch), Smiley must investigate his former colleagues, dubbed by his former boss Control (John Hurt), as 'Tinker' (Toby Jones), 'Tailor' (Colin Firth), 'Sailor' (Ciaran Hinds), and 'Poorman' (David Dencik). Also on his list of interviewees is school teacher Jim Prideaux (Mark Strong), who is a former agent that was shot and captured by the Russians in a previous bungled operation, and has now been cast out by the agency nicknamed the 'Circus'.
After the Harry Potter series ended earlier this year, it's great to see that a stellar British cast can still be assembled. And what a cast it is. The danger, obviously, is that with such talent on display, some people can get left behind or the film can feel over-populated. But, with the exception of Ciaran Hinds, each actor gets their chance to shine. The notable stand-out in my opinion is Hardy, who with his recent back catalogue, can only be described as the best young British actor around. He's a world away from psychopathic jailbird Charles Bronson in, er, Bronson (2008), which is his greatest performance to date. Here, he's a damaged and emotionally-torn grunt who is dealing with the fact that the woman he's possibly fallen in love with has disappeared and most likely dead.
With Alec Guinness making the role of Smiley his own in the BBC adaptation of John le Carre's book, Oldman faced a challenge. But of course, this being Oldman, he makes his turn as the bespectacled, brooding and miserable super-spy into one of his best performances. He's not the over-the-top bad guy or the larger-than-life personality that we're used to from the likes of Leon (1994), Sid And Nancy (1986) or The Fifth Element (1997), but he is quiet, dutiful, and ponderous. I believe in the years to come he will be remembered as one of the finest actors this country has ever produced. The whole film is a tour de force of acting, and mention must go to Firth also, who demonstrates once again why, at the age of 51, he's getting more work than ever.
The film itself is sensational. Every frame, sound, and line of dialogue looks carefully considered. Just like the collection of grumpy spies, the film is slow-moving. It's a film of tone and mood, of greys and browns. This is portraying 1970's Britain, and from the looks of it, it was a miserable and paranoid place to live. The Cold War was in full flow, and Britain was in danger of being left in the wake of it's American allies. The characters reflect the mood of the country, it would seem. The spies are the people that must risk torture, murder, or arrest, all for the apparent safety of Britain, and they must do it all in the shadows. They are unhappy, and have every right to be.
It can be confusing, but when the credits roll after an exceptional closing and lively montage, and all the pieces come together, it's apparent that it's a relatively straightforward plot that has been arranged in a complex manner. It doesn't feel like this was done to make the film seem more intelligent than it is, but a way to keep the narrative interesting, and allowing us to learn things as our protagonist does. It jumps back and forward in time as the various players tell their story, or Smiley finds another piece to the puzzle, and credit must go to director Tomas Alfredson, who directed Swedish vampire masterpiece Let The Right One In (2008), for keeping a firm grip on everything. Just a wonderful film, and one that will surely get plenty of recognition come next years Academy Awards.
The hero at the centre of the story is Clarence Worley (Christian Slater). We meet him in a bar trying to chat up a woman by expressing his love for Elvis and inviting her to join him in a Sonny Chiba triple bill playing at the local theatre. You can almost imagine Tarantino speaking these words and being hit with a rejection, but Clarence is Tarantino's creation, so he has popcorn spilled over him by an attractive blonde named Alabama (Patricia Arquette) as he sits watching one of The Streefighter films alone. The two hit it off and spend the night together, before she reveals she is actually a call girl hired by his friends (the name should have been a hint). But she actually falls in love with Clarence, and him with her, and the two are quickly married before Clarence's attention turns to the pimp who is still holding her belongings, the milky-eyed and dreadlocked Drexl (Gary Oldman). Their confrontation leaves Clarence in possession of a suitcase chocked full of cocaine, so the newly weds head to Los Angeles to find a buyer, with the help of their clueless contact and aspiring actor Dick (Michael Rapaport).
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