Review #1,449: 'Bird Box' (2018)

Perhaps it's because the dystopian survival horror has been done to death of late, or maybe it's because John Krasinski's vastly superior and similarly themed A Quiet Place is still fresh in the mind, but there's something strangely hollow about Netflix's latest smash-hit and water-cooler conversation starter. Bird Box became the inspiration for a series of dangerous YouTube stunts that resulted in the social media platform issuing a warning to anyone thinking about taking part in the 'Bird Box Challenge', but sadly, given the film's potential, this is perhaps all it will be remembered for in the years to come. All the pieces are in place for a tense 90 minutes, but Oscar-winning director Susanne Bier's film plays out over a mostly dull 2-and-a-bit hours, with little more than two memorable set-pieces and a strong central performance from Sandra Bullock to hold it all together.

Like an uneasy blend A Quiet Place and The Happening, the planet has been overrun by a mysterious force that causes people to go insane and commit suicide. While the family of Krasinski's memorable horror were forbidden to make any sounds, the players in Bird Box aren't permitted to see. Just one glance at the unknown creatures stalking the streets will cause their eyes to turn a murky purple and instantly seek a way of ending their own life, and when we first meet Malorie (Bullock), she is about to embark on a dangerous journey down river with two children in the hope of locating a sanctuary they heard about over a walkie-talkie. Flash back five years, and the pregnant Malorie witnesses the collapse of society first-hand, as a routine car ride back from the hospital turns into a mindless bloodbath. She escapes into the home of shouty misanthrope Douglas (John Malkovich), and is forced to hole up with a bunch of genre archetypes (played by Trevante Rhodes, Jacki Weaver, Rosa Salazar, BD Wong and Lil Rel Howery, amongst others).

With the doors locked and the windows covered up, it seems like Malorie and her new friends have it made. But for reasons never entirely explained, the creatures don't drive everybody to suicide. If you're crazy, you are instead driven to expose those lucky enough to be hiding out to the mysterious force. It might be an attempt to keep things cryptic, or it may be sheer laziness, but the rules of the game remain frustratingly unexplained. These creatures - who we never see - sometimes announce their presence with a gust of wind, and sometimes not. One person infected will immediately jump out of a window, but another will take minutes to turn, allowing them time to say something meaningful before they croak. The monsters clearly possess the power to move objects, so why don't they at least try to enter homes? We are left to fit the pieces together ourselves, but very little adds up. The likes of Night of the Living Dead and Assault on Precinct 13 sustained a bristly atmosphere by making us care about the characters, but reliable actors like Rhodes and Malkovich are never allowed to be anything more than 'love interest' or 'annoying right-wing nut'. It isn't all bad - one set-piece involving a short car ride to get supplies with only a SatNav computer screen to guide them is wrought with tension - but in the wake of A Quiet Place, which understood the mechanics behind what makes an effective survival horror, Bird Box feels like a missed opportunity.


Directed by: Susanne Bier
Starring: Sandra Bullock, Trevante Rhodes, John Malkovich, Sarah Paulson, Jacki Weaver, Rosa Salazar, BD Wong, Tom Hollander
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,428: 'The Predator' (2018)

Despite its unwavering popularity through the decades, the Predator franchise has failed to find its feet ever since it took off in 1987 with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Carl Weathers battling an alien foe in the jungles of South America. It's sequel, Predator 2, was an overblown mess, and it took twenty years for the threequel, Predators, to arrive and instantly be forgotten. The thirty years that have passed ever since John McTiernan's original seemed to have been one constant effort to steer the series back on course, so it must have seemed like a no-brainer to hire Shane Black, who played one of Arnie's unit first time around, to reignite some interest in the rasta-haired intergalactic travellers. After all, directors with their own sense of style and vision are rarely hired for big-budget blockbusters, and perhaps Black could inject the same level of wit and zip as he did with the likes of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and The Nice Guys.

It pains me to say this, but how tragically wrong they were. This effort to reboot a dying franchise fails on almost every level, from the recycled plot and cast of stock characters, to the forced humour that never so much as raises a giggle, despite the actors' attempts to convince you that they're all having a good time. From the get-go, Black hits us with gun-toting action and CGI blood-spraying, and does so at an alarming rate. One can only wonder if Black had hoped we would be too distracted by the carnage and endless exposition to realise how stupid the film actually is, but it's hard not to notice when the main character begins the film by mailing alien tech back to his family from Mexico under the government's nose. Former army sniper turned mercenary Quinn McKenna (Boyd Holdbrook) is busy on a retrieval mission when he witnesses an alien craft crash to Earth. His crew are wiped out, but Quinn manages to flee with an alien helmet which he sends to his estranged wife Emily (Yvonne Strahovski) and autistic son Rory (Jacob Tremblay). While Quinn is interrogated by the government, the Predator is taken to the lab for experimentation. Yes, you've already guessed what happens next.

As the Predator wreaks havoc and more arrive for the fight, Quinn is thrown in with a bunch of military prisoners, who all are crazy in their own way. They consist of Trevante Rhodes, Augusto Aguilera, Thomas Jane, Keegan-Michael Key and Alfie Allen, and provide most of the film's 'humour'. They are supposed to be lovable but really aren't, but Quinn evidently trusts them enough to leave them alone with an unconscious Olivia Munn. Had they been given a personality, or some actual funny lines of dialogue, the gang may have helped cover up many of The Predator's flaws, but the film has the same uncomfortably conflicted feel of Black's Iron Man 3, which struggled to juggle the director's independent sensibilities with the restrictions of a franchise. It's flashy, colourful and rarely pauses for breath, but doesn't have a style of its own. People are thrown into huge objects to get up like nothing has happened, there's military tough-guy speak, and somebody at one point even yells "get to the chopper!". It's a bunch of thrown-together Easter eggs and action beats you've seen a million times before. I doubt this is the last we've seen of the extraterrestrial trophy-hunter, but it's certainly time to lay him down to rest for a while


Directed by: Shane Black
Starring: Boyd Holbrook, Trevante Rhodes, Jacob Tremblay, Olivia Munn, Sterling K. Brown, Keegan-Michael Key, Thomas Jane, Augusto Aguilera
Country: USA/Canada

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,166: 'Moonlight' (2016)

Nobody was more surprised at the Academy Awards on February 26th 2017 when Moonlight was announced as the winner of Best Picture than the cast and crew behind the film, especially since it followed a colossal balls-up that saw La La Land handed the award before the people behind-the-scenes realised that Warren Beatty was reading from the wrong envelope. It was one of the true underdogs in the line-up, and one that I suspect that most viewers at home hadn't even seen. Diversity has long been an issue in Hollywood, and the #OscarsSoWhite debacle of 2015 certainly drew attention to the problem. But anyone thinking that Moonlight, with its all-black cast and African-American writer and director, was handed the trophy as a sort of guilty apology to a minority that has struggled to find a voice in cinema, is simply wrong: Moonlight is one of most engaging and powerful films of the year, and certainly the most personal.

Based on the play In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue by Tarell Alvin McCraney, Barry Jenkins' film chronicles the journey of Chiron from childhood to manhood in Liberty City, Miami. Living with his emotionally abusive, crack-addicted mother Paula (Naomie Harris), the young Chiron (known as 'Little'), is bullied by his schoolmates and is found hiding out in boarded-up apartment by Cuban-born drug dealer Juan (Mahershala Ali). The youngster is taken under the gangster's wing, and becomes a surrogate by offering him a place to hang out to escape his troubles. In one of the most moving scenes, Juan tells Chiron that there is no shame in being gay, and that he should never let anyone call him 'faggot'. A few years later and now a teenager, Chiron is still being bullied, but finds comfort in a friendship with the outgoing Kevin (Jharrel Jerome). It is with Kevin that Chiron has his first sexual encounter, and one that will trouble him for the years to come.

As a young adult and now fully immersed in the gangster lifestyle in Atlanta, Chiron is beefed-up and blinged-up, seemingly growing into his once-guardian Juan. Apparently living a life of isolation and emotional disconnect, a phone call from an old friend takes Chiron back to his hometown to discover who he truly is. The third and final segment is where the film is at its most emotionally exposed, and it's while watching these tender moments that it becomes apparent just how little we see gay black men portrayed on screen, and especially with such vulnerability. Not only does it champion both black and gay cinema, but it opens up a whole new world, fixing its eyes on a forgotten and ignored part of society, essentially one that is not dominated by characters that are white, male or heterosexual. These are numerous independent coming-of-age tales released around the same time each year, but never have I seen one with such a strong personal touch.

Clearly inspired by the work of Lynne Ramsay, Moonlight is social realism with a dreamy, otherworldly tint. While what we see on screen is incredibly naturalistic and believable, the fantastic soundtrack, combined with James Laxton's graceful cinematography, makes it feel like we're witnessing this world through somebody else's eyes. Alex R. Hibbert, Ashton Sanders and Trevante Rhodes all play Chiron at the three stages of his young life, and they are all incredible. A shy, near-mute child, a lonely and scared teenager, and then a lost, regretful adult, Chiron suffers inwardly, and the three actors do a staggering job of emoting the many subtle aspects of the character. It's shame that we get to spend such little time with Juan, but that is only due to the strength of Ali's performance - one that won him the Best Supporting Actor gong. It's a triumph for low-budget, ambitious film-making, and of course one for equality. But most importantly, Moonlight will resonate with anyone who has felt different, alone and ignored in this world.


Directed by: Barry Jenkins
Starring: Alex R. Hibbert, Ashton Sanders, Trevante Rhodes, Naomie Harris, Mahershala Ali
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie