Denis Villeneuve's Sicario was one of the most memorable thrillers of 2015, but it wasn't a film that exactly cried out for a sequel. Nevertheless, talk of a follow-up has been batted around ever since its release, with Villeneuve originally attached to direct. He dropped out to follow his childhood dream of directing Blade Runner 2049 however, with Italian director Stefano Sollima eventually signing on to helm the next chapter in the story of former sicario turned vengeful assassin Alejandro, played with a trademark steeliness by Benicio Del Toro. Original writer Taylor Sheridan was back on board to further explore the moral and social decay on both sides of the border, themes he had tackled before in the likes of Hell or High Water or his directorial debut Wind River. But there seems to be something missing from Sicario 2: Soldado, particularly the way Villeneuve questioned the ethics of the manner in which the US dished out its unique brand of justice.
The first Sicario brought us into this world of shady government agencies and barbaric Mexican drug cartels through the eyes of Emily Blunt's rookie, but she is nowhere to be seen here. This leaves us with cocky, flip-flop wearing CIA agent Matt Graver (Josh Brolin), who is brought in by the Department of Defence to combat the drug cartels who, by definition, are now considered terrorists. Targets are easier to execute when they are distracted, so Graver suggests instigating a war between the two dominant cartels and profit from the ensuing chaos. Taking out the leaders will only breed more splintered cartels so, with the freedom to operate without rules, Graver employs black operative Alejandro Gillick to help him and his team kidnap the daughter of a cartel kingpin, Isabel Reyes (Isabela Moner). All goes to plan until the team are betrayed by the Mexican police, leaving Alejandro stranded in the desert with Isabel and Graver on the receiving end of a roasting from his incredibly pissed-off superiors.
Villeneuve and Blunt aren't the only ones who don't return: cinematographer Roger Deakins and composer Johann Johannsoon (who passed away earlier this year) are also absent. Thankfully, their replacements Dariusz Wolski and Hildur Guðnadottir are able to replicate the same sweltering, doom-laden atmosphere of the first, as well as injecting some of their own sense of dread and tension into the film's ambience. Del Toro is once again a dazzling presence, managing to find the shred of humanity left in a brutal character still emotionally devastated by his family's murder and hungry for vengeance. Brolin is a highly charismatic actor, but while we get to see the occasional twinkle in his eye, Sollima's questionable stance seemingly in favour of the gung-ho tactics employed by the American forces relegates Graver to a one-note character. Soldado misses Villeneuve's concern for the consequences of such careless tactics and the limits of American intervention overseas, but the action scenes are executed unflinchingly with nerve-shredding realism. Soldado chooses to end with an invitation for at least one more chapter in this story, and while the desire to tell a complete story with time and care is admirable, Soldado feels oddly unfinished as a result.
In the years Ryan Reynolds spent trying to persuade 20th Century Fox to greenlight a Deadpool movie since the abomination that was the character's first big-screen appearance in X-Men Origins: Wolverine in 2009, nobody quite expected the reception it would eventually receive once the 'Merc with a Mouth' was finally unleashed onto unsuspecting audiences. Least of all Fox executives, who only gave it the go-ahead when footage was leaked onto the internet and fans went crazy. When 2016's Deadpool raked in over $700 million and became the highest-grossing R-rated film of all time, the suits were soon rubbing their hands together and dreaming up a sequel. Creative differences led to original director Tim Miller departing, and in stepped John Wick co-director David Leitch, with Reynolds also receiving a writing credit for the follow-up.
After a marketing campaign that was even more meta than before and teases of comic-book favourites gracing the big-screen for the first time, Deadpool 2 arrives with high expectations, not only to deliver on the comedy side, but to further subvert a genre that now seems to dominate the big release dates each year, with Marvel alone delivering three features a year. So does the sequel improve on the first? Not really. Although Deadpool 2 increases the violence, cursing and fourth-wall breaks, there's a slight whiff of corporate tampering to the final product. The Merc's first solo outfit loosely hung itself around the faintest of plots, with time jumps switching between Wade Wilson's journey from simple mercenary to cancer-ridden super anti-hero, and his quest for revenge against the man who took pleasure in torturing him over a lengthy period of time. The low-budget, guerrilla-esque approach was all part of its charm, and the role fit Reynolds' smirking sense of humour like a glove.
Deadpool 2 received a much higher budget and allowed for even more creative freedom for the writers, but in doing so has lost some of what made the original so refreshing and punkish. The story involves time-travelling cyborg Cable (John Brolin), who journeys back to our time to assassinate a young mutant (played by Julian Dennison) before he can grow up to become the monster responsible for murdering his family. Deadpool, who is still being courted by the X-Men and recovering from his own personal tragedy, takes it upon himself to protect the boy, who he feels can be saved and turned away from his fate. Along with old pals Colossus (Stefan Kapicic), Negasonic Teenage Warhead (Brianna Hildebrand), Weasel (T.J. Miller) and Blind Al (Leslie Uggams), Deadpool puts together a team he dubs 'X-Force' to help him take down such a formidable foe. Can our hero overcome this seemingly unstoppable man-machine with a gun whose power turns all the way up to 11? And more importantly, is dubstep still a thing in the future?
There is far more story to sink your teeth into this time around, and there are unexpected emotional beats for a character who is essentially a pop culture joke machine. But as it goes with most sequels, bigger rarely means better, and Deadpool 2 ends up becoming the type of film it's supposed to be making fun of. There is plenty of action but there is a weightlessness to it, which wouldn't be a problem if the director wasn't at least half responsible for the crunching physicality of John Wick. That said, Reynolds and fellow writers Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick keep the laughs coming thick and fast, whether it be Reynolds' wink-winking at the camera or the gross-out physical comedy, with Brolin proving to be the perfect straight-man to Reynolds' blabbermouth. One particularly memorable scene had me crying, despite it ultimately being a rip-off of another movie I won't mention for fear of spoilers. Movie-goers may be divided but comic enthusiasts will appreciate the service they receive, with countless Easter Eggs and in-jokes to spot, as well as the inclusion of the likes of Shatterstar (Lewis Tan), a rather goofy hero that nobody ever believed would make it onto the big screen. Reynolds can rest on his nest egg for at least another film.
Ever since that post-credits teaser at the end of the The Avengers, now 6 years ago, fan anticipation has been building for the arrival of Earth's Mightiest Heroes' deadliest foe, the giant purple 'Mad Titan', Thanos. With a tease here and a fleeting appearance there, Thanos' quest to gather all of the Marvel Cinematic Universe's McGuffins, the Infinity Stones, represents the culmination of 10 years of universe-building, during which Marvel Studios have emerged from a risk-taking independent studio looking to achieve something no other studio has before in terms of story-telling scale, to one of Disney's most reliably bankable divisions, regularly raking in over $1 billion, something that was achieved mere months ago with Black Panther, a cultural phenomenon if ever there was one.
After 18 movies, Avengers: Infinity War is finally here, and in the safe hands of sibling directors Joe and Anthony Russo. The brothers were responsible for two of the MCU's finest films, the Captain America entries The Winter Soldier and Civil War, and have taken on this seemingly impossible task to bring in dozens of huge characters with a sure and steady hand. Infinity War really is everything you would want it to be. While the tone sometimes shifts uneasily between dark and humorous, and character development isn't on the same level as their previous efforts, the Russo's deft balancing of our heroes' path-crossings with introducing the most formidable foe the universe has to offer, is nothing short of astonishing. It has the power to make you punch the air, laugh-out-loud, and pretend to have something in your eye.
The story picks up almost immediately after the events of Thor: Ragnarok, with Thanos (Josh Brolin) already in possession of the Power Stone, and seeking the Space Stone from Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and Loki (Tom Hiddleston). Back on Earth, Dr. Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch) and Wong (Benedict Wong) receive a warning of Thanos' pending arrival from Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo), and the Master of the Mystic Arts quickly recruits Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) for help, with Spider-Man (Tom Holland) in tow. In Edinburgh, the romantically-involved Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen) and Vision (Paul Bettany) are laying low, but are soon set upon by two of the Black Order, a four-strong band of henchman consisting of Thanos' 'children'. The heroes are eventually assisted by Steve Rogers (Chris Evans), Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) and Falcon (Anthony Mackie), who decide the safest place for Vision, who possesses the Mind Stone in his head, is Wakanda, the technically-advanced African nation ruled by Black Panther (Chadwick Boseman).
While it's certainly a thrill to see some of these characters interact for the first time (Stark and Strange's instant dislike for one another is particularly memorable). Infinity War brings the Guardians of the Galaxy into the fold for the first time. Answering an Asgardian distress call, Star-Lord (Chris Pratt), Gamora (Zoe Saldana), Drax (Dave Bautista), Rocket (Bradley Cooper) and Groot (Vin Diesel) bump (literally) into Thor. Watching some of the MCU's most comedically-gifted performers together for the first time is a real joy, with the Russos further developing Thor as one of the universe's most compelling and charismatic characters after Taiki Waititi gave him a new lease of life last year. Throw in the likes of Bucky (Sebastian Stan), War Machine (Don Cheadle), Nebula (Karen Gillan), Mantis (Pom Klementieff), Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow), Okoye (Danai Gurira) and Shuri (Letitia Wright), and you have one hell of a packed cast.
Not every character is given the attention you would expect. Both Cap and Black Panther, two fan-favourites, are oddly sidelined, while the likes of Dr. Strange and Gamora have larger roles, although the Russos have stated that this will be counter-balanced in the as of yet untitled fourth instalment. While our heroes jostle for screen-time, our protagonist emerges as Thanos himself. Standing eight-feet tall and with - as Star-Lord puts it - a chin like a nutsack, we witness his deadly quest to balance out the universe through the Titan's eyes. Every villain is a hero in their own mind, and there is logic to his mission. Ever since Ultron underwhelmed, Marvel have been knocking out of the park with their bad guys, and Thanos is their most fascinating yet. He is terrifying and utterly brutal, but also misguided and tragic. The CGI is near-flawless, but nevertheless it is Josh Brolin you witness delivering one of the best performances of his career. With 6 years of build-up, the Russos make sure you understand that Thanos isn't fucking around within the opening minutes.
For years studios have insisted on 'grounding' comic-book stories, fearing to venture out into space and terrified of embracing the colourful, weirder aspects of the medium. Infinity War goes some way to disprove the idea of translating page to screen requires vast reconstruction. As a piece of story-telling, the movie barely pauses for breath, instead opting for what can be summed up as a two-and-a-half-hour superhero splash panel. But this has had ten years of build-up, with obscure D-list characters breaking out along the way and earning the adoration of millions of new fans in the process. This is one for the fans, for those who were there for that post-credit teaser in 2008 when Samuel L. Jackson's Nick Fury appeared and first uttered the word 'Avengers' to a fresh-faced Tony Stark. Although this was advertised as something of a closure to Marvel's first ten years, it really isn't. Infinity War ends on a note that guarantees you will there on opening day when part four finally comes around.
When a film-maker builds up such a formidable body of work, it's all the more crushing when their next project falls somewhat flat. The Coen brothers Joel and Ethan have been churning out genre-bending masterpieces ever since 1984 with Blood Simple, and maintained a healthy independent spirit until they were eventually noticed by mainstream Hollywood with 1996's Fargo. Ever since, despite still serving up great work such as No Country for Old Men (2007) and Inside Llewyn Davis (2013), their filmography has been occasionally blighted by bewildering misfires such as the double-whammy of Intolerable Cruelty (2003) and The Ladykillers (2004). Sadly, they've done it again with Hail, Caesar!.
It's obvious that the Coens hold a keen interest in the old Hollywood system of the 1940's and 50's. They were satirising the world they view with a certain curiosity and perhaps a little disdain back in 1991 with the outstanding Barton Fink. Yet while that film portrayed a bleak, subdued world full of madness and loneliness as John Turturro's titular script-writer struggled with his work and his own demons, Hail, Caesar! is the glitzy, garish world of big-budget biblical epics and movie stars with everything to hide. Studio head Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin) is the man to try and hold it all together, from having to shield his actors' shady pasts from pesky twin journalists Thora and Thessaly Thacker (both Tilda Swinton) to handling an organisation of academic-type communists who have kidnapped his biggest star Baird Whitlock (George Clooney).
Working almost like a series of loosely-connected vignettes, the Coens also weave numerous sub-plots into the mix. Mannix must also deal with the issue that one of his leading ladies, DeeAnna Moran (Scarlett Johnansson) is unmarried but with child and can no longer fit into her mermaid costume. Singing cowboy actor Hobie Doyle (Alden Ehrenreich), a pretty face more accustomed to strumming the guitar and riding horseback, is thrown into a drama role at the last minute, much to the frustration of sophisticated director Laurence Laurentz (Ralph Fiennes). There are smaller roles also for Channing Tatum, Frances McDormand and Jonah Hill in what is an unnecessarily bulky ensemble that the Coens struggle to keep a grasp of. With no real sense of direction, Hail, Caesar! often feels like a collection of clips from separate, better movies.
Despite the narrative flaws, there's still plenty to savour. Those distinctly 'Coen-eque' moments are peppered throughout, with Hobie's awkward first day on set and Channing Tatum's musical tap-dance being particular standouts. Although Brolin excels and Clooney makes for a very convincing wimp, Ehrenreich is the one who steals the movie as the extremely likeable dimwit who may actually be the only one paying attention. He demonstrates great comic timing and all the charm of the western idols his character is paying homage to, and he seems the perfect fit for a young Han Solo in Disney's as-yet untitled origin story. The film may have even worked better as a whole with Hobie as the lead and doing away with several side-stories. Instead, it is an unfocused splurge of good ideas rather toothlessly executed but wonderfully performed. Definitely lower-league Coen.
Denis Villeneuve's previous films, 2010's Incendies and 2013's double-whammy of Prisoners and Enemy, delved into the darkness of the human psyche at its most primal level. Sicario, penned by actor-turned-writer Andrew Sheridan, continues the trend. While its setting demands something all the more high-octane to what we are used to from the Canadian director, Villeneuve makes sure to keep his primary focus on his lead trio, all who are suffering psychologically in some way from the extreme violence they witness on a regular basis. But Sicario delivers on the set-pieces too, sculpting a steady stream of intense set-pieces handled delicately and with a refreshing coherence.
During a SWAT raid of a house believed to be hiding wanted kidnappers, strong-willed agent Kate Macer (Emily Blunt) and her idealistic partner Reggie (Black Mirror's Daniel Kaluuya) make a gruesome discovery. Although the raid is a success, it doesn't come without casualties, and soon enough Kate and Reggie find themselves sitting outside an office where high-ranking officers from a variety of agencies are in deep discussion. Flip-flop wearing CIA agent Matt Graver (Josh Brolin) wants Kate along with him as he and his team head out to Juarez, Mexico, to find the men truly responsible for the carnage and bring down cartel boss Manuel Diaz (Bernardo P. Saracino), with the hope that it will lead to an illusive drug lord.
Just why Kate has been asked to tag along for the ride isn't made clear until near the very end, but Kate's stubbornness and natural curiosity means that she is determined to see it out, regardless of the questionable methods employed by Matt and another mysterious figure, the shadowy Alejandro (Benicio Del Toro). Sicario asks questions of whether bending the rules or using brutality can be justified when faced with an enemy willing to do anything to live another day. When the team first roll into the war-zone of Suarez, mutilated corpses dangle from a bridge to serve as a warning to anyone entering. How can you truly stay within the law when faced with an opponent so devoid of humanity? The psychological weight of these questions press down on Kate as the film progresses.
The film often paces briskly from one set-piece to another, without forgetting to amp up the tension beforehand. A stand-out scene takes place on the Bridge of the Americas as the team are transporting one of Diaz's top men back to the United States. Caught in a traffic jam, they immediately sense danger as vehicles stocked with tattooed men slowly pull up nearby. It's a nerve-jangling moment, one of many in the film, and the action is dealt with clinically, not allowing any of the characters to be forgotten or blurred within the frenzy. Towering above everybody else is Del Toro as the mysterious Alejandro, a man Kate cannot truly unravel. His background and ultimate purpose is left in the dark for the most part of the film, but it soon becomes clear that this is in fact his story. This is dark, visceral stuff, bolstered by an outstanding cast and an intriguing tale to tell.
Following in the footsteps of Raymond Chandler and the Coen brothers' Chandler homage The Big Lebowski (1998), Paul Thomas Anderson's adaptation of Thomas Pynchon's 2009 novel of the same name, Inherent Vice, has its permanently perplexed gumshoe trying to navigate his way through a labyrinthine plot that never really makes sense. Joaquin Phoenix's mutton-chopped 'Doc' Sportello is rarely too far away from his next joint in a hungover 1970's, where free love and hippydom is starting to fade and Richard Nixon reigns in the White House. The plot plays second fiddle to the hazy atmosphere and distinct sense of place, so if you find yourself constantly scratching your head as the story 'unfolds', it really doesn't matter.
If Paul Thomas Anderson's work is noticeably divided by 2007's masterpiece There Will Be Blood, when his work seemed to transform from absorbing, oddball ensembles (and even an Adam Sandler comedy) into sweeping, completely hypnotic works of art, Inherent Vice is a curious combination of the two era's. While never spilling over into full-blown comedy, the film makes frequent use of slapstick and moments of surreal absurdity, all delivered with perfect comic timing by its extremely talented cast. However, there's something else going on; a bigger picture that Anderson never really grasps (and doesn't really need to), and an eeriness that may or may not be fuelled by Doc's drug-induced paranoia and bewilderment.
The story kicks off when Doc is visited by old flame Shasta Hepworth (Katherine Waterston), who informs Doc of her affair with real estate developer Mickey Z. Wolfmann (Eric Roberts) and a possible plot to kidnap and commit him to a mental asylum. Doc's investigations force him into constant conflict with former colleague Lt. Detective 'Bigfoot' Bjornsen (Josh Brolin), a buzzcut-donning hippy-hater, who assists Doc with the news that Wolfmann has disappeared without a trace. Doc is also tasked with locating two others - a member of the Aryan Brotherhood who owes money to Black Guerilla Family member Tariq (Michael Kenneth Williams), and missing husband Coy (Owen Wilson), whose wife Hope (Jena Malone) has been informed of his death. The cases all may be linked by a mysterious boat known as the Golden Fang.
The head-scratching antics and doped-up conversations can cause extreme brain fatigue at times, so this is far from Anderson's best work. But Inherent Vice is still distinctly the work of Anderson, who wraps the film in an unpredictable and unsettling atmosphere at times, with the favouring of close-up's, a technique adopted in The Master (2012), heightening the deliriousness of the experience. The real find here is undoubtedly Waterston, whose twist on the femme fatale is played with a free-spirited seductiveness that would drive most men crazy. Phoenix is predictably convincing as the permanently red-eyed and well-meaning private dick, and Brolin overshadows anyone in the same room as him with his intense and idiosyncratic stiff, demanding waffles in bawled Spanish and deep-throating a popsicle much to Doc's disgust. Anyone expecting to be satisfied come the climax may be disappointed, and, like The Master, it can be difficult to love at times, but Inherent Vice is a one-of-a-kind experience; constantly baffling, funny, frustrating and beautiful.
Taking an alarming nine years to reach the screen following it's successful predecessor, Sin City (2005), Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller bring back the filth-ridden, black-and-white mean streets of Basin City. The first film was a modest success both critically and commercially, but A Dame to Kill For underwhelmed at the box-office, and despite boasting another stellar cast, it's not difficult to see why. The likes of Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Josh Brolin, and, most notably, Eva Green, have been brought in to freshen things up, but the film treads very similar grounds to what came years earlier, and the drama seems emptier now than it did before.
Like last time, the film tells various intertwining stories. Marv (Mickey Rourke) wakes up in a car wreck surrounded by the dead bodies of frat boys. Unable to remember how he got there, he begins to re-trace his steps. A cocky young gambler, Johnny (Gordon-Levitt) arrives in town and immediately starts fleecing a joint of all it's money. Insisting that he is allowed into the high stakes game with his good luck charm Marcie (Julia Garner), Johnny finds himself pitted against the corrupt Senator Rourke (Powers Boothe), who he wipes the floor with. He is warned to leave town quickly lest he feel the Senator's wrath, but the arrogant young man decides to treat Marcie to a night on the town instead.
Years before he had his face operated on to become Clive Owen in the first film, Dwight (now played by Josh Brolin) is a private investigator who we first meet spying on businessman Joey (Ray Liotta) and his young lover Sally (Juno Temple). He is called on by his old flame Ava Lord (Green) who claims she is being abused by her husband (Marton Csokas) and his bodyguard Manute (Dennis Haysbert, replacing the late Michael Clarke Duncan). Dwight cannot get her out of his head and employs Marv to help him on his rescue mission. Meanwhile, distraught at the suicide of John Hartigan (Bruce Willis), stripper Nancy (Jessica Alba) is drinking heavily and seeks revenge on the man who drove her former lover to kill himself, Senator Rourke.
Nine years ago, Sin City was, visually, a jaw-dropping exercise in using real actors against a green screen background. Nowadays, this effect is used commonly, even in TV shows, so it's a testament to Rodriguez (working as cinematographer) that the film still looks absolutely splendid. Beneath the beauty of it's exterior lies something all the more hollow, as the actors - the men and women - compete for the crown of being the hardest bastard with the graveliest voice. With such deliberately blunt dialogue, the film is basically made up of scenes of people acting tough to one another, usually resulting in machine-gun fire or somebody being punched through a window.
The cast all deliver though, and although it's nice to see Powers Booth get the screen-time he deserves (his Cy Tolliver in HBO's Deadwood is still one of the my all-time favourite TV villains), Eva Green walks away with the movie. Embodying all the traits of the great screen femme fatales, she is allowed to go further than the stars that came before for her and be that more sexier, revealing all to Rodriguez's obviously admiring camera. She seduces every man she comes across, including Christopher Meloni's lovestruck cop, who fall at her knees, and it's not hard to see why. Green single-handedly saves this film from becoming a nihilistic and empty exercise in violence, which was fun and fresh the first time around, but with nine years of preparation, you would expect more.
The recent splurge of Hollywood remakes of successful Asian exports have damaged the credibility of the remake, or the 're-visioning', as some of the more self-respecting directors dub them. It's east to forget that filtering a famous story through another artist's vision can produce great results, and without remakes we wouldn't have the likes of The Maltese Falcon (1941), A Fistful of Dollars (1964) and The Fly (1986). When Hollywood got it's grubby hands on the rights to a remake of Chan-wook Park's idiosyncratic modern classic Oldboy (2003), fans were up in arms. How would this story of octopus-munching and incest translate to an American audience? Then, Spike Lee was on board to direct, and people were as intrigued as they were confused.
Josh Brolin is Joe Doucett, a scumbag salesman who repeatedly drinks on the job and makes inappropriate passes at his clients girlfriend's. After another night of heavy-drinking and missing his daughter's birthday, he meets a woman with a yellow umbrella. The next morning, he wakes up to find himself in what looks like a hotel room, but is actually a prison in which he'll spend the next twenty years. Given Chinese food and vodka to consume every day, and seeing the news of his wife's murder and his daughter's adoption on the news, Joe eventually attempts suicide. He is saved, with the aid of his captors, and starts a vigorous routine in which he prepares for revenge. Then one day, he wakes up in the middle of a field with a cell phone and a lot of questions.
I'll just establish that I was never on board with this remake, even with the intriguing notion that Spike Lee was to direct. Yet Lee was adamant that this is a re-imagining from the original manga text, so I gave it a go. The many homages aside (the octopus, angel wings, the extended hallway fight), 2013's Oldboy does manage to be a film in it's own right. We learn more about Joe before he is captured, and Josh Brolin gives a strong performance as a character that is certainly angrier than Min-sik Choi's Dae-su Oh. This is evident from a beating he gives a young group of jocks, elbowing and stamping, and Lee's film is certainly bloodier. There is also more development given to the young woman who takes pity on Joe, and is played with a fearlessness by the lovely Elizabeth Olsen.
But where Oldboy fails wholeheartedly is the juggling of tone. Beginning with a grainy, handheld 16mm, the sense of reality is thrown out the window come Joe's release. We are introduced to bad guys such as Chaney (Samuel L. Jackson), who dresses like he belongs in the world of Willy Wonka (is there anything this man will not wear?), and the main antagonist Adrian (Sharlto Copley), a big bad so cartoonish that he may as well be twirling a moustache. In Chan-wook Park's movie, the shifts in tone suited the director's style as well the whole general strangeness that comes out of the Asian movie industry, but here it is handled so clunkily that it often comes off a simply laughable. Anyone unfamiliar with the original must find the whole experience simply perplexing.
Ultimately, this isn't a bad effort. I have to applaud it for at least trying to be it's own movie, rather than a carbon copy of a film that was always going to be it's superior. The tweaks and small additions have added little to the story and, if anything, made it more easily accessible. What worked so well for Park's original was it's refusal to abide by the normal storytelling rules, whereas Lee often tries to spoon-feed this strange tale and force it into a conventional and familiar Hollywood narrative. Like the film's protagonist, you can't simply put a story like this into a cage and expect people to enjoy looking at it, you've got to prod it with a stick, let it loose and scare the shit out of everyone. But thankfully, Spike Lee seems to have finally realised that they're called films, not joints.
Jonah Hex is a project that seemed doomed from the start. It has all the ingredients for a great movie - a too-cool-to-be-true premise, an extraordinary cast, a rarely seen (in the comic book universe) Wild West setting, and a cult following thanks to DC Comics' graphic novels. But if you look at other movies of its kind - Constantine (2005), Ghost Rider (2007) etc. - it was never going to work. The studio system or just plain bad writing always seems to get in the way. And Jonah Hex is quite possibly the most terrible of them all. Josh Brolin snarls and grunts his way through a solid performance, but he does not manage to save this absolute mess of a movie.
Jonah Hex served as a Confederate solider during the American Civil War. We learn through a fast-tracking prologue that shortly after the war, the evil Quentin Turnbull (John Malkovich) murdered Jonah's entire family, and branded his face with a terrible wound that leaves him disfigured. He is left for dead but nursed back to health by some native Americans, that somehow leave him with the ability to talk to the dead. Believing Turnbull burned to a crisp in a hotel fire, Jonah turns to bounty hunting to earn his living, proving highly efficient at the job. But when Turnbull re-emerges with his mad Irish cronie Burke (Michael Fassbender) and the threat of a terrorist attack, President Grant (Aidan Quinn) hires Jonah to take him out and save the day.
After the quick-fire introduction that zips through Jonah Hex's backstory so fast that you simply cannot care about him, we are introduced to the familiar hooker-with-a-heart Lilah (Megan Fox), who is inexplicably in love with Jonah. They share one scene together with no hint as to why these two characters even like each other (although I'm sure I know why Jonah enjoys visiting Lilah), and are not reunited until the climax when we are expected to give a damn about these two making it through the explosions and gunfire. Writers Brian Taylor and Mark Neveldine (who like to refer to themselves as simply Taylor/Neveldine - oh, please) don't seem to have heard of character-building or pacing, but when you look at their back catalogue then this can hardly be a surprise.
The most depressing thing is that the actors do their best and are largely successful with their cardboard characters, which makes it even more confusing as to how this was screwed up so badly. Nothing is explained properly - how did Turnbull escape the fire that apparently killed him/why do we only see Jonah revive the dead twice/why is Turnbull so pissed at the government? - and the fact that we are simply expected to accept this is offensive. I know, I know, this is a comic-book movie, but the action is so dull and ridiculous (dynamite guns!) that the aspect that we expect to be at least not bad is not there in order for us to forgive its many flaws. If there's one good thing to say about the film, it's that Jonah Hex's prosthetics are good, but the fact that I'm praising the make-up department shows how badly I'm clutching at straws.
Information is extremely easy to come by these days. Seemingly any fathomable topic can be typed into a search engine, and a world of information is unlocked. The biopic genre, that so often relied on myths and hearsay about its chosen topic, faced the reality that their 'artistic licence' would be stepped on, and audiences wanted something much more closer to fact. So, recent biopics, such as The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007) and Lincoln (2012), brought the myth back down to Earth, showing us the human beneath the magazine serials and profiles. Director Ruben Fleischer has chosen to ignore this change in attitudes, and opted for a heavily stylised, operatically over-the-top portrayal of the downfall of Los Angeles kingpin Mickey Cohen with Gangster Squad, one of the biggest let-downs in recent memory.
Mickey Cohen's (Sean Penn) choke-hold on Los Angeles is growing increasingly tighter, with the police force, judges, and politicians all backing him up. Seeing no legal method of capturing Cohen and his criminal empire, Chief Bill Parker (Nick Nolte) calls in no-nonsense police sergeant John O'Mara (Josh Brolin) to infiltrate and destroy Cohen's businesses. O'Mara quickly rounds up his tight crew, who he dubs the 'gangster squad', while O'Mara's friend and fellow police sergeant Jerry Wooters (Ryan Gosling) woos Cohen's girlfriend Grace Faraday (Emma Stone). Using wire-tapping and some simple brutality, the squad start to break down Cohen's money-making schemes, until Cohen's starts to hit back in force, waging war in the city he wants complete control of.
While obviously heavily elaborating on 'fact', Gangster Squad's story is undeniably luring. Set amongst possibly the most corrupt and out-of-control era in America's history and against a backdrop Hollywood razzle-dazzle, it's amazing just how dull the film is. I would estimate about 95% of the film is complete bull-shit, which I could live with, but it's the way it goes about it's bull-shit that makes the film such, well, bull-shit. This is a film that tries to capture the 50's noir cool of the era, with sharp suits and cool hats, but there's only so many Gosling poses or look-how-cool-this-car-is moments that I can take. If it spent a little less try trying to be cool, and more time getting to the grit of the story then it may have worked a little better. But this doesn't capture the style of the era like L.A. Confidential (1997) did, it's all forced, hat-tilted-to one side, cigarette-hanging-loosely-out-the-mouth, forced cool.
For such a stellar cast, only Sean Penn manages to tune in a performance. As ridiculous as his prosthetics are and as outlandish as his performance is, he seems to be the only one really trying. Don't expect any depth, Penn's Cohen is a simple thug who will kill you if you fail him, and you would find more complex villains in early James Bond movies. Brolin and Gosling, two of the most interesting actors to emerge in the last ten or so years, barely register, failing to breathe any kind of life into their archetypal roles. But it is Emma Stone that suffers the most, serving no purpose other than to be the helpless damsel-in-distress and to give Gosling a reason to take his shirt off. In fact, you could label every one of the Gangster Squad as a familiar archetype you would think we'd moved away from. Brolin is The No-Nonsense Leader, Gosling is The Handsome One, Harris (Anthony Mackie) is The Black One, Keeler (Giovanni Ribisi) is The Nerdy One, Kennard (Robert Patrick) is The Veteran, and Ramirez (Michael Pena) is The Rookie.
I mean come on, this is 2013, can't we expect a little bit more from our mainstream films? It's just one cliché after another, including a little boy friendly with Wooters who gets killed by one of Cohen's men, convincing Wooters to join the squad. It even features a scene where a character throws his badge into the sea. At the point where Cohen opens fire on the squad and shouts 'here comes Santa Clause!', I gave up all hope. Apart from the cinematography, and Penn's energetic performance, I would have nothing good at all to say about this film. Maybe Fleischer should stick to comedy, as his previous movie Zombieland (2009), I actually really enjoyed. But if you want a more powerful, honest and dramatic depiction of Mickey Cohen, check out the first five minutes of L.A. Confidential instead.
The story of the Invisible Man has taken many forms on TV, film and in literature since the publication of H.G. Wells' classic novel. The best known, possibly, is James Whale's fantastic Universal adaptation, starring Claude Rains as the scientist gone mad, and actors from the likes of David McCallum and Chevy Chase have played the title character since then to various degrees of sympathy. It was always a story of the psychological effects a new found power can have on a human being, posing the inevitable question of what would you do if no-one could see you? I wouldn't like to dwell on the things I would find myself getting up to, but director Paul Verhoeven is clear as to what he thinks men would get up to - voyeurism and rape, and this is a key theme throughout Hollow Man, amidst all the extreme gore of course.
Arrogant, obnoxious scientist Sebastian Caine (Kevin Bacon) makes a breakthrough in reversing invisibility on a gorilla, but when reporting his success to the Pentagon, he opts to hold back information to gain more time to experiment on himself. Co-workers Linda (Elisabeth Shue), an ex-lover and still the subject of Caine's affections, and Matthew (Josh Brolin), who is secretly dating Linda, voice their objections, but Caine's insistence eventually wins them round, and successfully turns himself invisible. The reverse serum does not work, so Caine is stuck wearing a rubber mask and shades while they work on the solution. But Caine finds that with great power comes endless possibilities, and his behaviour becomes increasingly more erratic and sinister, and begins to sabotage his colleagues efforts to bring him back.
Subtlety has never been Paul Verhoeven's strong suit, but where his films are always hugely tacky and pornographically violent, they come with a satirical bite, more often than not at the U.S.'s expense. But where Starship Troopers (1997), for example, was a massive amount of fun as well as being pretty bloody clever (American soldiers dressed like Nazis!), Hollow Man doesn't have the capacity to be anything but a familiar story with a large helping of cheddar and stock characters, and the satire is left outside. It's still enjoyable seeing the various faceless characters receive a grisly butchering, and some impressive CGI (even by today's standards) reveals many inventive ways you can see an invisible man.
But it's often embarrassingly over-the-top and the script is woeful even by it's own schlock standards ("don't you die on me!"). Caine's infatuation with the hot woman across the road (played by Rhona Mitra) leads to a nasty rape, and Caine frequently takes liberties with Linda and veterinarian Sarah (Kim Dickens). It's an interesting theme, and no doubt something that a lot of men would take up given the power of invisibility, but Verhoeven's camera seems to almost enjoy the voyeurism, making certain scenes quite uncomfortable. Yet an enjoyably hammy performance from Bacon overshadows the blandness of Shue and Brolin's one-dimensional characters, and helps lifts the film from bad, to average.
With the takeover of his home by the local country club imminent, Mikey (Sean Astin), a member of the 'goonie' gang who live in the 'goon docks' area of Oregon, plans a last adventure for him and his gang when he uncovers a map in his father's attic that may lead to the treasure of legendary pirate One-Eyed Willie. Joining him is Data (Jonathan Ke Quan), who is handy with gadgets, Mouth (Corey Feldman), who always lets his mouth get the better of him, and Chunk (Jeff Cohen), a bungling chubby kid who is famous for his 'truffle shuffle'. Meeting up with them later is Mikey's older brother Brand (Josh Brolin) and two girls, Andy (Kerri Green) and Stef (Martha Plimpton). The map leads them to a seaside restaurant that appears derelict, but they soon find it occupied by wanted criminals who may just be after the loot themselves.
So here it is. When we started the Childhood Memories Project, The Goonies was always high on the list to watch, and why wouldn't it be? Virtually everyone from my generation and the generations around me who owned a television when they were a kid would have seen this film many times, and, like me, loved it. It seemed to be constantly on one of the channels, and is the type of film that you can watch from any point and instantly become engrossed. It has everything a kids film could need - pirates, lost treasure, adventure, boys comradery, monsters (well, Sloth). And it has a sad element that could upset any child - the threat of moving away to the unknown and leaving those childhood friends forever. These things make the film timeless, and a true childhood classic.
This was the first time I'd watched the film since my youth, and the first thing that struck me was how dark the film is. There's some scary stuff in here (if you're a kid!) - skeletal bodies, a frozen corpse with a bullet hole in his head, a huge deformed monster chained in a dark room, and Martha Plimpton. There's also a lot of swearing. It's not the type of thing you get in modern day kiddy shit. Those films are too busy breaking into song or filling the screen with flashy effects to stop the X-Box and iPhone generation from losing concentration for 10 seconds and checking their fucking Facebook account. The Goonies gives us the real dirt, danger and sense of adventure that came with childhood, where an abandoned railway line would provide a whole day's entertainment (in my case).
I also found it extremely moving. I'm not sure if it was the nostalgic man-child in me that was transported back to a time where getting back home in time for dinner was the extent of my worries, or if it was from the many beers that I had. Either way, by the end I got all soppy. The Goonies is by no means a brilliant film, but the legacy it left behind it and the sheer scale of it's cult, nostalgic fan base is there for a reason - because it's the perfect childhood adventure film. And for that reason, and for the fact that I've never felt two hours fly by so fast, I'm giving the film five stars. This is the film that gave us the truffle shuffle and 'hey you guys!' after all. I just hope younger generations get to see it and are capable of appreciating it after being brought up in a world of Pirates of the Caribbean sequels, Miley Cyrus and Michael fucking Bay. Goonies never say die.
It is curious as to why the Coen brothers, two of the greatest directors in cinema history, have taken so long to tackle a western. Their style and feel is ideally suited to the grit and the mystery of the West, most evident in No Country For Old Men (2007), Blood Simple (1984) and even The Big Lebowski (1998). How I rejoiced when I heard that not only were they to apply their trade to the western, but were to film a re-adaptation of Charles Portis' 1968 novel of the same name. Of course, it has already been filmed back in 1969 in the not-bad John Wayne version, but the original film always lacked that toughness, and the most important aspect of the film, the character of Mattie Ross, was messed up in the form of the highly annoying and 22-year old Kim Darby. The Coen's new adaptation sticks close to the source novel.
Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) is a 14 year old girl whose father has just been murdered and robbed by the notorious Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin). Lacking faith in the law to bring her father's murderer to justice, she seeks out a lone lawman who has the 'true grit' to tackle such a job, and finds it in the form of trigger-happy U.S. Marshal Ruben 'Rooster' Cogburn (Jeff Bridges). Cogburn is a drunkard who always shoots first, asks questions later, but Mattie sees in him the ability to see her father avenged. After reluctantly agreeing, Cogburn sets out with Texas Ranger LaBoeuf (Matt Damon), who has something of a financial gain with the capture of Chaney, and the two are eventually joined by the determined Mattie.
This is all that someone who has seen the 1969 original will be familiar with, as the 2010 version is in some ways very similar to it. However, the Coen's have their fingerprints all over this, and features some trademark quirky humour and some magnificent cinematography. In my opinion, this is one of their best since Miller's Crossing (1990), which I consider their greatest film. Their are some fine moments, such as a strange meeting with a man clothed in bearskin (complete with bear head) who tries to sell Cogburn and Mattie the corpse that they cut down not long before, and a shooting contest between LaBouef and a bladdered Cogburn.
The biggest problem with the original, as I mentioned before, is the character of Mattie Ross and the actress who played her. She was frustrating and bratty, and the focus of the film seemed to linger on John Wayne's Cogburn. This is Mattie's story and the Coen's wisely make sure that she dominates the film. In Steinfeld, they have found an actress who will surely go on to great things. She is absolutely stunning in the lead, brimming with confidence, intelligence and Southern sass. She manages to hold her own with two Oscar winners, and if anything, blows them out of the water. It's simply one of the finest child performances in many, many a year. Not to say the support is slacking. Bridges, as well as Steinfeld, has received an Oscar nomination for his efforts, and makes for a much better Cogburn than Wayne. John Wayne famously received his only Oscar win for the original film, but it seems now looking back that it was more of a token gesture for a body of work than anything. Wayne had that lived-in look, but Bridges has the acting chops. Matt Damon seems to have been forgotten amongst the two main leads, but his performance is also great, bringing a welcome humour and slight sexual tension to the film.
A trademark for the Coen's is the cinematography, here again working with their lifetime companion Roger Deakins. Never has the West been captured with such astounding beauty and terrifying menace. The final third of the film, in which Mattie encounters Chaney and his gang, led by 'Lucky' Ned Pepper (Barry Pepper, no relation), eventually leads to a night-time dash through the night. The night is shot with a crisp and starry mystery and magic - it is simply beautiful. It is also a nodding homage to Charles Laughton's 1955 masterpiece The Night Of The Hunter. I hope that this cleans up at the Oscars, even though I know it won't.
The first Sicario brought us into this world of shady government agencies and barbaric Mexican drug cartels through the eyes of Emily Blunt's rookie, but she is nowhere to be seen here. This leaves us with cocky, flip-flop wearing CIA agent Matt Graver (Josh Brolin), who is brought in by the Department of Defence to combat the drug cartels who, by definition, are now considered terrorists. Targets are easier to execute when they are distracted, so Graver suggests instigating a war between the two dominant cartels and profit from the ensuing chaos. Taking out the leaders will only breed more splintered cartels so, with the freedom to operate without rules, Graver employs black operative Alejandro Gillick to help him and his team kidnap the daughter of a cartel kingpin, Isabel Reyes (Isabela Moner). All goes to plan until the team are betrayed by the Mexican police, leaving Alejandro stranded in the desert with Isabel and Graver on the receiving end of a roasting from his incredibly pissed-off superiors.
