Review #1,316: 'Paddington 2' (2017)

Paul King's Paddington was one of the great surprises of 2014: a re-imagining of a world-famous character beloved not only to children, but to the adults who grew up reading Michael Bond's stories or watching the various television incarnations since the 1970s. Aesthetically, it shared very little in common with the charmingly old-fashioned and quaint little adventures penned by Bond and illustrated by Peggy Fortnum, but shared much of its heart. Most who saw Paddington fell quickly under its spell, which was a wonderful amalgamation of Wes Anderson and Jean-Pierre Jeunet's proudly artificial visual splendour and the stiff upper lipped playfulness of Ealing Studios. This sequel's arrival is more than welcome, if not only to make us forget what's happening out there in the real world, but to allow us to spend more time in the company of Ben Whishaw's endearingly clumsy yet optimistic bear.

In almost every way, Paddington 2 is an improvement on its predecessor. The return of King and his co-writer Simon Farnaby is a no-brainer, and they have not only grown in confidence and in their willingness to push their kooky boundaries even further, but they have fixed what was arguably a weak link first time around - the villain. Nicole Kidman had a ball as evil taxidermist Millicent Clyde, but here they have tried something less terrifying for kids in Phoenix Buchanan, a washed-up thespian who dreams of bringing his one-man show to the West End, but finds himself in humiliating dog-food television adverts instead. Casting Hugh Grant was a stroke of genius, and it's no stretch to say that this is the finest he has ever been. He's pompous and full of himself, but takes pride in his ability to disappear into his characters. His desire to spark his festering career back to life leads to the theft of a valuable pop-up book from the store of Mr. Gruber (Jim Broadbent), which holds clues to the location of a treasure chest hidden somewhere in London.

Phoenix Buchanan may steal the film, but the attention rarely strays too far from the titular hero, who is once again voiced pitch-perfectly by Whishaw. He was Colin Firth's last-minute replacement first time around when the Kingsman actor's efforts didn't quite feel right, and it's difficult to imagine any other actor behind Paddington's soft features and wide-eyed curiosity. When we first meet him, it's clear that the charming little bear's community wouldn't quite function without him. The Brown family, again played by Hugh Bonneville, Sally Hawkins, Julie Walters et al, are happily getting on with their lives, although dad Henry is experiencing a midlife crisis at work and with his ageing appearance. With Aunt Lucy's 100th birthday coming up, Paddington finds the perfect present in the pop-up book of London in Mr. Gruber's store, which he hopes will compensate for the elderly bear never being able to see the big city for herself. He starts to work odd jobs to save up for the pricey gift, but all suspicion falls on Paddington when Buchanan steals the book for himself.

He is sentenced to ten years in prison for the crime, and if that seems unnecessarily harsh, you'll understand why when you see the film. This may seem like a somewhat grim direction for a family film to take, but thanks to a mishap involving a stray red sock in the laundry room, the scenes within the jail are some the film's funniest. This is also thanks to the character of Knuckles McGinty, the fearsome chef played brilliantly by Brendan Gleeson who Paddington naturally befriends over some marmalade sandwiches. Paddington 2 is unashamedly fanciful stuff, presenting a fantasy vision of London where the sun always shines and people on the street always greet you with a smile. It's an image many foreigners will no doubt have of the capital, but there's nothing wrong with playing up to this, especially when the film's fantasy sequences are quite as wonderful as they are. Production designer Gary Williamson and animation director Pablo Grillo are a crucial part of this, and King, who always displayed a flair for the fantastical in his early TV work, surely also had a hand in Paddington 2's overall magical feel.


Directed by: Paul King
Starring: Ben Whishaw, Hugh Bonneville, Sally Hawkins, Hugh Grant, Brendan Gleeson, Julie Walters, Jim Broadbent, Tom Conti, Peter Capaldi
Country: UK/France/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

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

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

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

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

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


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

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #852: 'Paddington' (2014)

When the announcement was made of a feature-length adaptation of Michael Bond's beloved Paddington bear - the polite, marmalade-loving, bespectacled bear from deepest, darkest Peru - I'm sure the common assumption was that disaster was afoot. How do you take a character so steeped in nostalgia, some distinctively old-fashioned, and so quintessentially British, and translate it for a modern audience of children raised on multi-film franchises, CGI and fat suits? Based on the strength of the film's finished product, you employ a young, ambitious director with a real talent for visual flair.

His name is Paul King, and his only previous film, Bunny and the Bull (2009), was a funny, sweet odyssey into the weird, similar in many ways to his most popular TV work, The Mighty Boosh. Paddington is an enormous step up into the mainstream, and could have easily been yet another cheap and formulaic Brit-com; films that are churned out quicker and lazier than they are placed in Asda's bargain bin. Yet despite it's thread-bare plot and familiar genre tropes, Paddington not only offers excitement in some slapstick set-pieces that will surely please the kids, but King makes the film an interesting analogy of immigration, a hot topic in modern society.

When Paddington (voiced with adorable naivety by Ben Whishaw) arrives at Paddington station, leaving his Aunt Lucy (Imelda Staunton) and Uncle Pastuzo (Michael Gambon) after an earthquake destroys his home, the image of the tiny bear, adorned with a sign around his neck asking any friendly Londoners to "please look after this bear, thank you", brings to mind the images of poverty-stricken immigrants arriving at Ellis Island in the 1900's as much as it does the child evacuees during World War II, Bond's original inspiration. He is taken in by inner city statistical analyst Henry Brown (Hugh Bonneville) and his wife, artist Mary (Sally Hawkins), and is soon causing chaos in their home.

Evil taxidermist Millicent (Nicole Kidman) shows up about a third of the way in, intent on capturing and stuffing the rare talking bear, teaming up with grumpy (and randy) next-door neighbour Mr. Curry (Peter Capaldi) in what is the only contrived plot-thread of the movie. Her purpose is to be Paddington's antagonist, and it's during these scenes that the film stutters. When the focus is on the curious bear's adventures and pratfalls, and his relationship with the Brown family, this is an incredibly warm, visually engaging experience. It's peppered with wonderful moments, such as Paddington's scribbled addresses appearing out of the London skyline and the ever-changing wallpaper, which blossoms and fades to fit in with the film's various moods. This is a delightful surprise, and I'm eager to see where King will go from here.


Directed by: Paul King
Starring: Hugh Bonneville, Sally Hawkins, Ben Whishaw, Nicole Kidman, Peter Capaldi, Jim Broadbent, Imelda Staunton, Michael Gambon
Country: UK/France

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #769: 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince' (2009)

Defiantly avoiding the familiar sign-posts of the early Harry Potter movies (Harry's troubles with the Dursley's, the journey to Hogwarts, meeting the new Defence Against the Dark Arts), returning director David Yates and the franchise in general has firmly settled into it's dark, brooding persona. The trouble is, Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) and his ever-present shadows Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson) have developed into one-dimensional bores. Thankfully, The Half-Blood Prince is rich in snivelling villains and wise old wizards and witches, all portrayed by an embarrassingly rich line-up of British thesps, who liven up the proceedings somewhat and add that much-needed gravitas.

It's a cast so crammed with talent that the likes of two-time Oscar-winner Maggie Smith is reduced to a walk-on part. But the film is plagued by a lack of proper pacing, and Yates has trouble keeping a grip on the mixture of drama, comedy and action. Certain scenes that were utterly gripping in J.K. Rowling's novel whizz by without you realising what just happened, confusing the thick plot to the point that any audience members unfamiliar to the books, and have waited two years between the movie instalments, might be left scratching their heads at the mention of Horcruxes and Vanishing Cabinets. This time around, Harry and Dumbledore (Michael Gambon) partner up to gain information from new teacher Horace Slughorn (Jim Broadbent).

Seeking to destroy Lord Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes) once and for all, Dumbledore's biggest clue lies in a memory tampered with by it's owner, Slughorn. It's a conversation between him and a young Voldemort, Tom Riddle (Frank Dillane - son of Stephen), discussing a dark magic that Dumbledore believes to be the key to Voldemort's immortality. Harry is given the task to appeal to Slughorn's love of celebrity and reveal his secrets, and impresses the bumbling teacher in his Potions class after discovering a textbook marked with alterations by the mysterious 'half-blood prince'. But Harry also believes nemesis Draco Malfoy (Tom Felton) has been made a Death Eater and is up to no good, much to the scepticism of Ron and Hermione.

It's the best book of the series, in my opinion, and it's a shame that screenwriter Steve Kloves, who has written every Potter apart from Order of the Phoenix and has always done an excellent adapting the hefty books, can't quite get this one right. The moments in which Harry delves inside the Pensive, an apparatus that allows one to physically enter a memory, are impressive. We finally get some insight into the past, and the two young actors playing Tom Riddle (as well as Dillane, Hero Fiennes-Tiffin, nephew of Ralph, plays an 11 year-old incarnation) are excellent, showing us a younger, curious dark lord. But it isn't enough to stop the film feeling like it's dragging out the franchise that made many people millions of dollars, or allowing me to forgive the many narrative flaws and many moments of plain rushed storytelling.


Directed by: David Yates
Starring: Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, Michael Gambon, Alan Rickman, Maggie Smith, Jim Broadbent, Robbie Coltrane, Helena Bonham Carter
Country: UK/USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #715: 'Filth' (2013)

I wanted to get through this entire review without mentioning Trainspotting (1996). But Danny Boyle's British classic was so brimming with dark energy and so tapped in to the Zeitgeist of the 1990's that comparisons are unavoidable when faced with a movie adaptation of an Irvine Welsh novel. The problem with the adaptations that followed Trainspotting - The Acid House (1998) and Ecstasy (2011) - were that they were so caught up in recapturing the spirit and iconic imagery of Trainspotting, that they failed to find a tone of their own, and as a result, were very bad films indeed. Thankfully, with the adaptation of Welsh's most difficult novel, Filth, director Jon S. Baird has found of a verve of his own, and has entrusted much of the film's success to lead star James McAvoy, who is uniformly excellent.

Repulsive bipolar Edinburgh Detective Sergeant Bruce Robinson (McAvoy) spends his time drinking, snorting, shagging and bullying his way through life. When he's not being the despicable racist, homophobic and misogynistic bully that he is, he indulges in what he calls 'the games' - a collection of sociopathic manipulations he projects onto his colleagues and rivals for the upcoming promotion to Detective Inspector. His best friend is soft-spoken doormat Bladesey (Eddie Marsan), a wealthy fellow Freemason who is married to Bunty (Shirley Henderson), a bored housewife who Bruce regularly makes prank phone calls to in the voice of Frank Sidebottom.

There isn't much defining plot to the film, and instead simply follows Bruce on his various self-destructive exploits, such as having rough sex with the wife of a work colleague, forcing an under-age girl to perform oral sex on him or stealing a suspect's inhaler only to repeatedly blow cigarette smoke in his face as a form of effective interrogation. The movie begins with the murder of a Japanese student by a gang of punks led by Gorman (Martin Compston), and Bruce is assigned to the case by his boss Toal (John Sessions). It gives the film a story to build around, but it features very little, and instead we are forced to witness the complete mental deterioration of a truly disturbed, utterly depraved, yet - thanks to McAvoy - highly charismatic man.

If you're easily offended, then this isn't the film for you. Shockingly, the film tones down Bruce's character from Welsh's book, knowing that without a narrator, Bruce could have been so off-putting that he could be beyond audience redemption. So, with McAvoy giving absolutely everything to the role, his bullying and manipulations, regardless of how evil and cruel they are, are hilarious. Knowing his work partner Ray Lennox (Jamie Bell) has a tiny penis, he suggests everyone in the office photocopy their penis and have the girls match the genitalia to the face. The camera pans from penis to self-satisfied face, only to pass Lennox, his face in his hands.

But Filth certainly has its share of dark moments too. As more about Bruce is revealed throughout the film, the clearer his mental illness becomes. Only rookie Amanda Drummond (Imogen Poots) can really see through his outlandish antics, and with her being a woman and all, that drives Bruce even crazier. In the novel, Bruce has a tapeworm growing inside of him that narrates a lot of the book, revealing to the reader more about Bruce's history, but for the film this has been changed to some hallucinatory episodes with his doctor Rossi (Jim Broadbent). These moments didn't work for me, as they seemed forced and trying to recapture some of the 'cold turkey' stylings of Trainspotting, as well are interrupting the manic pace.

While the ending (which is also different from the book) may be a little too much for some people to take, it is certainly consistent with the fast-paced, twisted energy of the movie's first half. It is tragic, amusing and pathetic, much like Bruce himself. Filth is daring cinema, especially for a dark British movie that doesn't revolve around football hooliganism or Danny Dyer. It doesn't try to be forcefully iconic or deliberately provocative, instead relying on and trusting Welsh's twisted and socially aware text. It also has a fine cast to boot, lining up one of the finest displays of British (mainly Scottish) talent in recent memory. It's far too dark a film to grab the attention of the Academy, but McAvoy, an actor I had never really taken to, deserves every award under the sun for his unflinching performance, and Filth deserves to be talked about without a single reference to Trainspotting.


Directed by: Jon S. Baird
Starring: James McAvoy, Imogen Poots, Jamie Bell, Eddie Marsan, Shirley Henderson, Joanne Froggatt, Jim Broadbent, John Sessions
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #415: 'Gangs of New York' (2002)

After seeing his father 'Priest' (Liam Neeson) murdered at the hands of rival gang leader Bill 'the Butcher' Cutting (Daniel Day-Lewis) 16 years before, Amsterdam Vallon (Leonardo DiCaprio) returns to the Five Points in New York seeking revenge. Not much has changed since he fled, as tension remains between the 'Natives', the Irish immigrants, the Chinese and the blacks, only Bill now rules over with an iron fist, helping corrupt politician William 'Boss' Tweed (Jim Broadbent) gain votes. With the help of old friend Johnny (Henry Thomas), Amsterdam finds himself working his way up Bill's ranks, and after thwarting an assassination attempt on Bill, Amsterdam wonders if he did it out of his desire to kill Bill himself, or a growing loyalty to his new employer.

Following a lengthy book-to-screen adaptation, Scorsese's historical epic reached the cinema screens 23 years after he bought the rights to Herbert Asbury's book The Gangs of New York: An Informal History of the Underworld, amongst stories of studio fall-outs and arguments over final cut. It seems all those years of pondering did not allow Scorsese to fine-tune his vision, and although the film looks absolutely astonishing, the result is a bit of a mess, albeit one that never gets boring. Telling such a detailed historical account of America's fist-fights for power amongst mass immigration and racial tension could not have come at a more suitable time, as the 9/11 attacks occurred during production. But Scorsese chooses to cram this in with sub-plots of political corruption, a love-story between Amsterdam and thief Jenny (Cameron Diaz), the New York Draft Riots, and the central revenge story.

Of course, the film's ultimate saving grace is Daniel Day-Lewis, who gives a theatrical, sledgehammer performance as the one eyed-monster, and his scene where he sits talking to Amsterdam with an American flag draped over his shoulders is worth a thousand Academy Awards alone. Among the wave of dodgy Oirish accents, DiCaprio's isn't that bad, pulling of a credible performance which would jump-start his close relationship with Scorsese in the years after. Amsterdam is no regular hero, he's just as violent as the next thug, and one of the most interesting aspects of the film is how Scorsese tends not to show any race or group in a particularly good light. This is America's dirty beginnings after all, and boy is it bloody - heads are bludgeoned, cheeks are torn from their face - it's probably Scorsese's most gruesome since Casino (1995).

Second time around, Gangs of New York did seem admittedly better paced and more fleshed out (I thought I might even be watching a director's cut), with the political goings-on and the various sub-plots making much more sense. But the film is still a mess, and it progresses with a taste for almost glamorising the violence. The opening scene depicting the bloody fight between the Butcher's natives and the Priest's Dead Rabbits comes with slow-motion and electric guitar music, and this punk-ish approach causes it to clash with its historical setting. However, it looks staggering. The costumes, the huge sets, and the dirt and grit, has an epic David Lean quality, almost old-fashioned in a way. Yet this is a very modern film, and perhaps a more classical approach may have benefited the film which is ultimately unfocused, but effortlessly thrilling.


Directed by: Martin Scorsese
Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Daniel Day-Lewis, Cameron Diaz, Jim Broadbent, John C. Reilly, Henry Thomas, Liam Neeson, Brendan Gleeson
Country: USA/Italy

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #328: 'The Iron Lady' (2011)

I was at first perplexed by the announcement of a biopic of the first British female prime minister, until I gave it some thought, particularly in terms of the political and financial situation that the globe finds itself in currently. We currently watch as we are repeatedly told through the media of the crisis - similar to the Wall Street crash of the late 1920's - that bankers have fucked up the world! We can in many ways trace this obsession with massive profit to Margaret Thatcher's and Ronald Reagan's collaboration throughout the 1980's, which essentially led to that filmic '80's mantra: "Greed is good". This globalisation of monetary philosophy, along with many more home grown policies, created Thatchers image, and added to her iconic status as one of the most reviled public figures in modern day politics (e.g. Thatcher, Thatcher, milk snatcher). What is problematic with the timing of the film, is the fact that the subject is yet to die - and is (within the realms of British politics) absolutely revered. We have seen since her tenure, an absolute influence of her no-holds-barred political technique - we have seen since the likes of Tony Blair (noted in opposition in the Labour government) who's ideologies were thoroughly influenced.

Aside from the political machinations of the political spectrum, we are offered in this film an attempt to humanise a character so readily hated. The main focus of the film from the outset is Thatchers memories of her personal life and political career. We see her struggle to place herself in the male dominated world of politics, along with her life with Denis (Jim Broadbent). This gender battle does dominate much of the uprising of the politician, but fails miserably towards the closing as we are offered an insight into a powerful woman's paradigm with the world of men. The film shows throughout that Thatcher has the opinion that men are childish fools. However, this is contradicted as we see her psychological deterioration to dementia highlight her adoration of her husband Dennis.

The actions and policies of her time as head of state are thought through in terms of seeming grief. We observe the implications of the Falklands war, the break-up of the workers unions and the fall of mining that led to nationwide protest. These fundamental decisions of the party are not really explained - therefore it becomes difficult not to feel something for this withering figure, lonely in her old age. Without the information of the true impact of these policies we are unable to make a genuine judgement of the person.

Herein lies the problem with this film. the screenplay tries far too hard to give some vain of pathos to Thatcher as she looses her mind, dormant in a lonely place. This concept of loneliness is played out throughout the film, even when Thatcher is at her prime, dominating men of her cabinet, she seems isolated but her character and her gender. It's surprising that this isolation of gender is so prevalent in the film, when we consider the closing where we are aware that she needed men. It almost seems that the duo of feminine influence (director Phyllinda Lloyd and screenwriter Abi Morgan) has done nothing to what could have been a feminist tract of fish out of water, actually turns on itself and becomes practically anti-feminist.

Whilst the film has many issues, it has to be noted that Meryl Streep's performance (or impersonation if you like) is exceptional, at times she seems more Thatcher than Thatcher. However, I really hope she does not get the Oscar for this performance, as through the screenplay, we are not really given a very interesting, insightful, or even exciting film. It is amazing that I felt a sense of pity for the person. This will not do. We need to see something far more truthful for such an utterly despised political figure.


Directed by: Phyllida Lloyd
Starring: Meryl Streep, Jim Broadbent, Anthony Head, Richard E. Grant
Country: UK/France

Rating: ***

Marc Ivamy