Review #1,464: 'Vice' (2018)

After spending most of his career larking around with Will Ferrell in the likes of Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, Step Brothers and The Other Guys, writer/director Adam McKay took a huge leap towards 'serious' film-making in 2015 when he released The Big Short, a funny, intelligent and unexpectedly engrossing account of the 2007-2008 financial crisis. The Big Short may not sound like much fun on paper, but McKay latched onto this idea, making the tedious subject of subprime loans and triple-A ratings interesting by entwining it with pop culture, employing the likes of Margot Robbie and Selena Gomez to dumb it down for the audience in a manner that was too wickedly clever to ever be patronising. With Academy recognition now under his belt, McKay strides into his next project - a biopic of one of the most fearsome yet enigmatic political figures in U.S. history - with confidence, and dare I say it, a touch of arrogance.

McKay is eager to perform the same trick again with Vice, a sporadically inspired but frustratingly blunt quasi-biography that feels to penetrate the skin of its subject or answer the big question of just what was the driving force behind the man who turned the symbolic position of Vice President into one of great power and influence. Rather than dig deeper, McKay prefers to allow Dick Cheney's actions to speak for themselves, occasionally cutting away to a visual metaphor, such as, in the case of Cheney's key meeting with Sam Rockwell's George W. Bush, a cheetah bringing down its prey. Cheney is a man McKay clearly views as a highly functioning psychopath, tracking his journey from working under Steve Carell's Donald Rumsfeld in the Nixon Administration, to his opportunistic lunge for control in the immediate aftermath of the 9/11 attacks. He fought to grant more power to a President he easily manipulated, praying on his short attention span and lack of political know-how, and to legalise torture, finding a massive legal loophole in the shape of Guantanamo Bay.

Vice is structured like a classic coming-of-age movie, with its 'hero' rising and falling, before dusting himself off and getting to his feet to rise again. After President Ford (Bill Camp) is voted out of office, seemingly closing all political doors for Cheney, McKay rolls the credits and pans away from the Cheney household, before an abrupt phone call reminds us that this story has barely begun. Like many of the jokes in Vice, the credit-roll-fake-out is funnier in theory than execution, and the film often takes the trickery so far that it threatens to undermine the seriousness of the subject matter. Satire must be funny, but it must also carry an emotional wallop that McKay struggles to find. At the centre of it all is Christian Bale's powerhouse performance, which explores a man whose obsessiveness could be compared to that of the actor's own extreme approach to his craft. Once again Bale takes his own body to the limit, piling on the pounds to resemble a man who suffered multiple heart attacks throughout his life (it becomes a running gag in the film), and adopting a deep growl capable of subtle intimidation. The performances of Bale, Carrel and Rockwell are all worth the entry fee alone, but Vice stutters to engage on a deeper level, failing to explain just how an oil company CEO can seize control of one of the most powerful countries in the world, and execute his plans with such cold indifference.


Directed by: Adam McKay
Starring: Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Steve Carell, Sam Rockwell, Alison Pill, Eddie Marsan, Justin Kirk, Jesse Plemons, Bill Camp, Tyler Perry
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,357: 'American Made' (2017)

The toothy, clean-cut charm of Tom Cruise seems like an odd choice for the role of notorious drug trafficker and CIA operative Barry Seal who, during the 1970s, flew copious amounts of cocaine from Central America to the United States, as well as running guns to the Nicaraguan Contras on behalf of the American government. But the Barry Seal of Doug Liman's American Made isn't that far from Top Gun's Maverick, and the comparison is hard to avoid when we see Seal cheekily entertaining himself at the expense of his passengers and co-pilot while on a routine flight for TWA. Cruise slides into the role comfortably, running with the movie's lightning pace and offbeat humour. But his involvement also highlights Liman and writer Gary Spinelli's reluctance to explore this true story - which had devastating consequences for all countries involved - in more depth.

Set during a time when men ruled the sky and air hostesses were expected to drop their skirts at the very sight of a uniform, pilot Barry Seal is somewhat frustrated with his comfortable life, making a bit on the side by smuggling cigars into the US. This illegal side business is what attracts the attention of a CIA agent calling himself Monty Shafer (a brilliant Domhnall Gleeson), who asks Seal to fly over Central America to snap pictures for the American government. Seal's photographs are about as perfect as Shafer could hope for, and so he is rewarded with his very own plane and hangar and promoted to collecting information from Manuel Noriega of Panama in exchange for cash. Soon enough he is transporting guns to the US-backed Contras, and attracting even more attention. Only this time it's from Jorge Ochoa (Alejandro Edda) and his volatile partner Pablo Escobar (Mauricio Mejia) of the Medellin cartel, who want Seal to fly massive amounts of cocaine to Louisiana.

With the CIA turning a blind eye to Seal's drug trafficking exploits, Seal rakes in so much money that he is forced to bury huge quantities in his yard. This rags-to-riches-to-rags story is told in a conventional, linear fashion, with Liman resisting any urges to go all Scorsese on the subject matter. This kind of true life tale is nothing new, but it is a tale worth telling, especially when you factor in the American government's role in the shady operations, who arguably gave birth to the kind of man Barry Seal went on to become. Despite baring absolutely no resemblance to the real Seal, Cruise proves to be a great host, recording his story to camera on a wonderfully shoddy VHS in the movie's only brush with narrative flair. The main issue with American Made is that it claims to have a mind-blowing story to tell, but anyone who has seen the dizzying documentary Cocaine Cowboys or Netflix series Narcos will possess more information about how deep this thing went than the movie actually reveals. It aims to tell an entertaining story, and it certainly does just that, but the fact that it refuses to fully explore the consequences of Seal's actions means that it can never be anything more.


Directed by: Doug Liman
Starring: Tom Cruise, Domhnall Gleeson, Sarah Wright, Jesse Plemons, Caleb Landry Jones
Country: USA/Japan

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,335: 'Hostiles' (2017)

The tone is set very early on in Crazy Heart and Black Mass director Scott Cooper's latest slice of Americana, as a white family is set upon by a gang of blood-thirsty Comanches on horseback. The natives slaughter them all, including a young baby, all except for mother Rosalee (Rosamund Pike), who flees terrified into the wilderness soaked in blood and still clutching her dead child. It's a starling opening which is difficult to watch, and seems to set up an old-fashioned tale of good vs. bad with a modern twist. Only it isn't. As you can probably gather from the title, Hostiles is about the cycle of violence, fear and hatred on both sides of the coin, with the whites looking to settle in their newly colonised and unexplored land, while the natives seek to hold on to what they have by any means necessary. There's brutality on both sides, only the natives were there first.

Christian Bale plays Captain Joseph J. Blocker, a veteran officer known for the indifference with which he carries out his tasks, which mainly include rounding up nearby Apaches using a variety of questionable methods. In any other movie, Blocker may serve as the bad guy, but there's a discipline in his actions and a weariness in how he acts on his instincts. He and his close friend Master Sergeant Metz (an excellent Rory Cochrane) have taken about as much as they can take, and bear the scars of a life spent soaked in blood. Blocker is called to the office of Colonel Biggs (Stephen Lang) to receive his latest mission: to transport the dying war chief Yellow Hawk (Wes Studi) back to their home lands in Montana, as part of a political move under the instructions of the President. Under the threat of a court-martial, he agrees, and sets out on a long and perilous quest to help a man he still views as the enemy.

There is a lot to admire about Hostiles, especially the gorgeous cinematography by Masanobu Takayanagi, whose camera captures this vast and beautiful land as a sort of endless, mystical purgatory. The performances are stellar, with Bale and Pike leading a talented ensemble that also includes Jesse Plemons, Bill Camp, Q'orianka Kilcher, Adam Beach, Timothee Chalamet, Peter Mullan and Ben Foster. Yet there's a familiarity to the film's themes. The revisionist western movement has constantly depicted these times as cruel, representing the country's lowest moments, and it's no different here. The idea is that everyone can be hostile and capable of unspeakable acts when faced with mortal danger, something explored more profoundly in Cormac McCarthy's novel Blood Meridian. The poster may lead you to believe that the film is built around Blocker and Yellow Hawk's relationship, but Studi isn't given very much screen time, with the action focused more on the blossoming relationship between the grizzled Captain and the tragedy-stricken woman he stumbles upon and feels sworn to protect. Hostiles is interesting and occasionally riveting, but deeply flawed and lacking focus.


Directed by: Scott Cooper
Starring: Christian Bale, Rosamund Pike, Wes Studi, Rory Cochrane, Jesse Plemons, Adam Beach, Q'orianka Kilcher, Ben Foster, Stephen Lang
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #978: 'Black Mass' (2015)

Over his impressively long career, Johnny Depp has adorned make-up and a variety of wigs, contact lenses and outlandish costumes to deliver a plethora of memorable (and not-so-memorable) characters, performed with a trademark flamboyance now simpatico with the actor. The success of these films, which are often seen through the gothic lens of Tim Burton, makes it easy to forget that there is a good-looking actor capable of a fantastic 'normal' performance in there somewhere. Black Mass shows a bit of both sides. He has once again donned a rather distracting appearance - a set of pale blue eyes, a receding hairline and bulbous nose - to portray James "Whitey" Bulger, but there is also a terrific and unseen intensity to Depp here, convincingly scaring the shit out of anyone he comes across.

Clearly channelling Scorsese visually, director Scott Cooper of Crazy Heart (2009) and Out of the Furnace (2013) fame skips his main character's rise to criminal overlord in favour of showing us just how much of a bastard Bulger was (and probably still is). His otherworldly appearance, with blotchy skin and a mouth full of wonky brown teeth, is not how the real man looked but instead serves to highlight his monstrous nature. Bulger's activities are recollected by his former gang members Stephen Flemmi (Rory Cochrane), Kevin Weeks (Jesse Plemons) and John Martorano (W. Earl Brown), who all have their own bone to pick with him by the end of their story. His willingness to murder and threaten whether it be for business, pleasure, or to simply stay out of jail led to Bulger becoming one of the most notorious criminals in Boston history.

In the beginning, Bulger is approached by FBI agent John Connolly (Joel Edgerton), a local boy, who offers him a free ticket to the top of the criminal underworld. It's not snitching, but a deal that benefits both sides as Connolly is served rival gang members on a plate, and Bulger gets to carry on with his illegal activities without the prying eyes of federal agents. Only Connolly seems to be enjoying peeking into the criminal high life a bit too much while Bulger gives him diddly squat. Bulger plays him like a fiddle, managing to silence a dinner table with murderous threats thinly disguised as jest in one stand-out scene. And Black Mass is at its best when the film moves into darker territory, cruelly teasing the inevitable brutality to come whenever a disposable minor character shuffles onto the scene.

Narratively, it's all over the place and tends to neglect detail in favour of more conventional biopic storytelling. In the few scenes he has, Benedict Cumberbatch oozes a subtle sliminess as Whitey's Massachusetts State Senate President brother Billy. The vastly different paths these two brothers took could have made for engaging drama and given the film more balance, but strangely Cooper chooses to almost ignore the relationship completely to concentrate on Bulger's dealing with the FBI, so Cumberbatch is criminally under-served. However, as silly as he looks, Depp is genuinely unsettling and, like the film as a whole, gets under your skin. Black Mass sounds like it should be a horror, and as the creepy real-life security footage plays out over the credits, its hard to deny that in many way it is.


Directed by: Scott Cooper
Starring: Johnny Depp, Joel Edgerton, Benedict Cumberbatch, Dakota Johnson, Rory Cochrane, Jesse Plemons, Kevin Bacon, Peter Sarsgaard, Julianne Nicholson
Country: USA/UK

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie