The Adjustment Bureau

Who knew Emily Blunt could dance?



So glad to see ballet is making a "comeback". However, we have to wait until 4th March for this beaut. Downer.

Never Let Me Go

One of the good things about currently being located in New Orleans - besides the fact the weather is glorious (temperature is in the high 20s-mid 30s every day), the people are amazing, the food is delicious, I've finally begun to understand the rules of American Football and am happily following the mid-term election coverage - is that two films I have been eagerly awaiting and would not have otherwise had access to until post-January in the UK are already out here. The first of which, is Never Let Me Go.

You may remember me harping on about how excited I was for its release some time ago when it was announced as the opening night film for London Film Festival. I waited and waited for my invite to the Gala to arrive, and you know what? Apparently having worked for an independent film PR boutique agency for a couple of months by the time the festival rolls around doesn't qualify you to get an invite to rub shoulders with the industry's finest. I was surprised too. So instead I seethed with jealousy as members of the inner sanctum tweeted about their evenings and Film 2010 cut live to a very drunk threesome of Carey Mulligan, Keira Knightley and Andrew Garfield, all giggling as much as I would be if even found in the same room as them. I shall now put in 12 months' solid work into tracking down Sandra Hebron, making her my best friend, in order that I might be invited next year. In fact fuck it, by next year I'll be presenting Film 2011. You can count on it.



But back to the film. Yesterday afternoon, while the poor people who are housing me (my family) were all at work, and the weather was lingering somewhere between "I'm going to kill you with heat" and "I'm about to storm all over the place" I dipped into a very nice cinema just on the fringes of the French Quarter to benefit from the Air-Con and Andrew Garfield's face. The film is certainly not for those seeking an action-filled, laughter inducing couple of hours. If you're looking for heart-wrenching performances from two of Britain's finest talents (Carey Mulligan and Andrew "the future" Garfield) and one Britain's sort of OK acting talents (Keira) however, then Never Let Me Go is more than just the ticket. All the more, you will never see as brilliant casting as you will when you compare the difference between the actors who excellently play Kathy, Ruth and Tommy whilst still at Hailsham, and Carey, Keira and Andrew respectively.



Hopefully that will give you some idea. In all honesty I didn't love the film as much as I entered the cinema hoping to. Andrew is simply perfect, it has to be said, and there is some very moving material to be found, but something was missing. Oh wait that's it - Keira's personality. Though she does make some very convincing cat-being-drowned noises during her "love" scenes with Garfield. Geddit? Cause Garfield is a cat? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. Great. To be fair to her, Ruth's character is not one the audience is supposed to have warm feelings towards, and it must be very difficult to be on screen with Carey who is essentially everything that Keira has always wanted to be. Soz KK.

A special mention should also go to Charlotte Rampling who once again manages to play Charlotte Rampling in dazzling form. Bravo.

I guess I'd give this 3.5/5 but it is certainly worth seeing for Andrew alone.

THE SOCIAL NETWORK

The Social Network is the penultimate film of 2010 which I was actually desperately eager to see. Yes there have been other good releases recently (to be talked about in an upcoming post) and I'm sure there will be others post-HP 7 Part 1, but none which will have me impatiently counting down the days until they are unleashed upon me. Until January that is.

Remember how much I gushed about Inception? I'm sorry Nolan, but Fincher has just trumped you in "the setting the standard for filmmaking" award of the year. Where Inception is visually amazing, The Social Network manages to enthral, shock and tickle without a single action sequence (unless you count the zip-wire from the chimney lol-athon), plot-twist or visual effect exhibition. In truth, that's not quite fair - the seamless creation of the Winklewoss twins is the best faking of twins since Lindsay Lohan in The Parent Trap. And I'm not even sure if that was even any good - I haven't watched that particular treat in many a year, now - but I do know that once you find out the Winklevii (as dubbed by Eissenberg's Zuckerberg in t'film) are played by two unrelated actors thanks to the help of some clever digitalising of one of the twin's faces - you will nearly spend the entire film just looking out for that. And you won't be able to tell. I promise.

The real star of the film, as everyone will tell you, is Andrew Garfield. His performance is impeccable and honestly, if he continues to be as faultless as he has proven thus far, the film industry may well get a little bit boring when every other actor retires in a slump of depression at the thought of never being as talented as this fine specimen is. But even then, as the virtuoso of diversity, he'll do a pretty bang-up job of replacing literally everybody.

Has anybody else noticed my fondness for bold statements?

I shall leave you with the best trailer of the year along with the promise that if Andrew Garfield does not get given an Oscar very soon I will do something decidedly stupid - the terms of which you can decide for yourself.

R.I.P

I am more than just a fan of Tarantino. I pretty much worship that shark-faced guy. I will defend everything he's ever had even the smallest involvement with until the day I die. You don't like his segment in Four Rooms? Don't care. Not a fan of Death Proof? Not interested. Everything he's ever breathed on (which I suppose includes my older half-sister who drunkenly chatted him up and was eventually stood up by him for a date...yes I casually just threw down that anecdote) is perfection to me. But the films he's created (excluding True Romance etc.) would not be known for their stylised finesse if it wasn't for a true genius in the form of Sally Menke. Everything you've ever admired about a Tarantino film, bar the soundtracks and scripts and Oscar winning performances, was down to Menke. QT, like many of the greatest directors, is well known for his repeated collaborations with members of the film industry; but it is to his collaboration with Sally his films owe the most.

I really don't know what it's going to be like to watch any of Tarantino's future projects without her editing expertise. Not only should we mourn the loss of an industry queen, but also, potentially, the death of Tarantino films. I'm really not ready to let go of my obsession, so here's hoping he can prove me wrong.

Yet Another Disappointment

As you will have perhaps come to realise by now, to me, actors and actresses aren't just that; they're not just people doing their job. Nor are they to many people I'm sure. They're men and women who through the nature of their career put themselves up for ridicule and idolisation. The actors I admire the most, are the ones who most frequently disappoint me as I attempt to rationalise their questionable project choices.

This week, Patrick Wilson has become offender #1. You will know him as the creepy sleaze bag who Juno/Ariadne may or may not castrates in Hard Candy and the owner of the best backside in Hollywood, as exemplified in his marvelous thrusting skills in Little Children and Watchmen. He's geeky without trying to be trendy, suave without becoming either cocky or George Clooney and looks great with Kate Winslet or Malin Akerman's legs wrapped round him (though he would of course look better with mine....NO I will not go there).

He has however decided recently to sully his good name by associating himself with not only The Switch but now this monstrosity, Morning Glory.

Will all of you up there on that pedestal please stop giving me more and more things I have to sidestep in my constant adoring of you? BAD Michael Fassbender (Centurion, Jonah Hex etc.et.c). BAD Carey Mulligan (Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps). BAD Sir Ben Kinglsey (Prince of Persia.) BAD Patrick Wilson. There are other offenders, of course, but these are all I can be bothered to list. It's too depressing otherwise.

I'd love to say I had hope for this film, but the inclusion of a Natasha Bedingfield song in the trailer has destroyed that.

5 Reasons Why You Should See Vampires

1. It's better than Twilight
2. It does not rely on good looking cast members to carry the film.
3. You get to see a Vampire try and commit suicide the human way in quite entertaining ways.
4. It's one of the best mockumentaries not to feature glam-rock/heavy-metal bands, dog shows or award ceremony buzz.
5. Never before has so much thought and plot-hole avoidance been put into a Vampire chronicling release.

Mostly you should see it because I came up with these reasons less than half an hour into the film. I was going to put a 6th reason as "There are no fucking werewolves" but I suppose I could still be disappointed. I shall report back with a full verdict.

CENTURION

When this hit cinemas back in April, I was spectacularly uninterested. Yes my Fassbender obsession was well under way, but as a rule I tend to steer clear of Classics related films due to how much they always anger me with their gross inaccuracies and stereotyping. Yes I sound pedantic in my picking at the seemingly minor details, but I see no reason at all for a film to be made if the writers can't even look up a date. If you're so afraid of books, or even the fucking internet, I have to question why you're a writer in the first place.
Anyway, I recently bothered to find out that Olga Kurylenko, Imogen Poots, Riz Ahmed and Noel Clarke also starred, and suddenly I was a bit more keen to see the film - I'm a sucker for a good looking, multi-ethnic cast. And this particular penchant will be the death of me. Or at least the death of my well-honed taste in film. (Insert pretentious snort here.)
The film falls victim to pretty much every cliché associated with films representing antiquity there is. Michael Fassbender manages to look amazing despite being bloodied and whatnot, but his Queen's English narration (because you know, Romans DEFINITELY were all posh pricks) is very confused with his natural Irish accent which he eventually resigns himself to within the narrative itself. Olga Kurylenko is possibly the best I've ever seen her, mostly because she never has to utter a line of dialogue thanks to Etain's (her character) loss of a tongue at the hands of those brutal Romans. This is in itself a feature of the plot which confuses everything. Who are we supposed to sympathise with? The Romans? The Picts who are hunting the Romans down? This isn't done in an interesting way where the viewer is supposed to be impartial. More in a "oops we shouldn't have added in that element because now you won't want Michael Fassbender and his chronies to make it". Oops indeed.
What really annoyed me, though, was the inclusion of Agricola in the film. Largely because they decided he was going to be one of the "bad Romans". I spent a good few months of my life studying the man and the biography of him by Tacitus, (obviously written from a different viewpoint but hey) and I therefore find it difficult to view him as a conspiring fiend who would try to kill Michael Fassbender. Additionally, the film clearly states at the beginning that it is set in A.D 117 when Agricola actually died in A.D. 93. That's not even taking into consideration the fact he returned to Rome from governing Britain in A.D. 62. Why, then, did the writers not just set the film when he was actually alive if they were so keen to sully Agricola's good name? Your guess is as good as mine. Great job at not even being bothered to look on Wikipedia there.
Essentially, then, the film misses the mark on a coherent narrative, coherent development of characters (English/Irish Fassbender + the Romans vs. Picts aside, the 'love' affair between The Fass and Imogen Poots is entirely rushed and entirely unbelievable) and any shred of historical awareness. Riz Ahmed was probably the best thing about the film, and he's criminally killed within 10 minutes of him appearing.

SOME FILMS AT RAINDANCE WHICH YOU SHOULD PROBABLY SEE

Avoiding today's trend to report which films at London Film Festival look good and should be watched (as excited as I am about 99% of the films showing there...you probably would have known to see them anyway) I have decided what would be far more useful is to tell you about Raindance's top picks. Which is in fact a far more arduous task.

The festival will be launched by opening night "gala" of Jackboots on Whitehall which despite featuring Ewan McGregor, Richard E. Grant, Tom Wilkinson AND Alan Cumming, looks so distinctly bad, one really has to question the four geniuses decision to join the cast. The Airborne Toxic Event are then playing at Heaven for the opening night party. Why? Because a film about them (All I Ever Wanted...) is also being shown at the festival. Makes sense. Except I for one am not familiar with any fans of the band and find it difficult to imagine a fuss being made over their performing at the party, let alone paying money. But hey - I've been out of the music journalism world for long enough not to know anything about such things. So far, so bad, then.

All is not lost, however. With some genuinely interesting films featuring later on in the festival. Within the Documentary strand, This Way Of Life, an Oscar-tipped tale of a Maori family's struggle to protect their way of life gets its UK Premiere and looks wholly decent.

For the more pretentious viewer, there is also Rouge Ciel to whet your artistic appetite.


In the oddly titled "Raindance Symphony Orchestra" strand, you'll find some of the weirder/more controversial entries of the programme. The most obvious topic for discussion is the inclusion of A Serbian Film which was banned from being shown at this year's Fright Fest. Except it's not really being shown, as the only way you'll be seeing this bad boy is if you happen to receive an invite to the private screening. Which you won't. And shouldn't want anyway. And I'm not saying that from some sort of moralistic pedestal - I frankly couldn't care less that the film features necrophilia, pedophilia and rape (combined in one scene with the rape of a newborn baby...tasty) as it's ONLY A FILM. What I'm more concerned with is the quality of the film. Which is piss poor. Controversial films made for the sake of controversy are one of my pet peeves. At least take a leaf out of Lars Von Trier's book and make the film semi-possessing of a decent narrative, development of characters and something which resembles a script. So stop waiting by your letter box (or more likely inbox) in the hopes of receiving one of these invites, and instead go and see Too Much Pussy: Feminist Sluts in the Queer X Show. Yup, you heard me. (Heard me? Read me?) Find out why here.

From the "North American Indies" strand (which does exactly what it says on the tin) I have chosen We Are The Mods purely because of the promotional image. It could swing either way: entirely good or entirely average. Either way it'll be entirely indie. Go here for more information.



The strand which has really excited me, however, is the Japanese strand. With the only world premiere of the festival (Lunar Child) this strand looks far more promising than any of those previously mentioned. I'm most looking forward to seeing Boys on the Run (supposedly a Japanese take on 40 Year Old Virgin), Lost and Found, Autumn Adagio (nun hits menopause and discovers her sexuality...lol?) and Yuriko's Aroma. Sod you, Serbia, Japan's where it's at. For a more comprehensive list of Japan's lovely features this year - go here.

RAINDANCE RUNS FROM SEPTEMBER 29TH TO OCTOBER 10TH AT APOLLO PICADILLY CIRCUS (one of the snazziest cinemas in town...)

31 NORTH 62 EAST

Here is a film which you should definitely watch despite its crap title and even crapper poster. "Why?" you ask. And so you might. And the answer dear readers is simple: because British people can be funny unintentionally, too! 31 North 62 East (the most clumsily titled film of the year, hands down) stars John Rhys-Davies (you'll know him best as Gimli in Lord of the Rings trilogy), Marina Sirtis (known best from her appearances as Counselor Deanna Troi from Star Trek), Heather Peace (who's been in every British "drama" or soap there is to hand), and Craig Fairbrass (who other than being Dan in Eastenders has apparently been in Rise of the Footsolider and played various voices in the Call of Duty franchise.) On paper, then, this supposed "political thriller" telling the tale of conspiracy and deception within an SAS unit located in Afghanistan should be better than an episode of Emmerdale. It isn't. Rhys-Davies plays the prime minister (who can only be modelled on John Prescott...) who betrays the location of the SAS unit in order to secure £80 million arms deal. Something which we are told from the very beginning. So there is absolutely no mystery involved there, then. In fact the only mystery pertaining to the film, is why on earth any of these people signed on to the project in the first place. Did they read the script and assume it'd only be released as a straight to Channel 5 piece (even ITV wouldn't have touched this...)? All the more mysterious is the actors' apparent ability to misplace any ounce of talent they once possessed. I take it back: it does take some talent to reel off "31 North 62 East" as effortlessly as every member of the cast manages to every time it's mentioned within the film.
The makers of the film have missed a real trick in not deciding to market the film as a spoof. Not even 20 minutes in and you'll have witnessed these groundbreaking film moments:


1. A man wielding the most unrealistic machete you'll see this side of Aladdin in panto season (for some reason Aladdin in my imagination wields a machete?), rubbing Heather Peace's tits with said weapon and growling in a particularly sexy voice: "maybe if I cut one of your silky-smooth breasts that might loosen your tongue". Which seems completely devoid of rational thought. I was simply left wondering "how does he know her breasts are silky-smooth?".
2. The same unconvincing Afghan captor torturing poor Heather Peace by claiming to use "acupuncture" as a method of loosening her tongue (yes he says this...AGAIN). A particularly unorthodox method in that he uses needles with flags of differing countries at their head, and inserts them under her finger nails. Effective.
3. Heather Peace eventually does loosen her tongue and drops the "F" bomb. Even the word "fuck" manages to be unconvincing in this context.

And if you should stick with the film a little longer, you'll experience the following treats:
1. The soundtrack which was evidently made for a low-budget porno and re-used to heighten the tension.
2. Heather Peace donning an ill-fitting balaclava to cleverly disguise herself while trying to capture Marina Sirtis. Soz Heather but noone is unrecognisable when you can still see their body, eyes and mouth. Except not one person manages to rumble her.
3. The line of dialogue: "round up the usual Islamic suspects". With not one shred of irony.

The list could (and does) go on. It is simpler, therefore, to leave you with the trailer for this stunning piece of film-making - though I should warn you - it wholly surpasses the film itself.

BELLA

Every now and then, a film comes along which affects you so little, it's hard to even form an opinion about it. An outcome which was somewhat surprising in this instance, given that Bella had won the People's Choice Award at Toronto Film Festival, and yet less surprising if you remember the fact the film was originally made in 2006 and has only now secured a UK release. The film stars Tammy Blanchard, certifiable cross between Lili Taylor and Hilary Swank, and Mexcian Eduardo Verástegui sporting the most off-putting beard since Joaquin Phoenix's monstrosity. Verástegui is in fact very, very good, as is Manny Perez who plays his brother, both working well to create a credible and touching dynamic between the characters. It helps that the highlights of the screenplay are shared between the roles, but Perez and Verástegui deliver perfectly. Tammy Blanchard does her best with what she's given, but as the character is more than under-developed, her ability to cry on cue very, very well, seems something of a wasted effort. What really spoils the film, however, is the last 5 minutes. Until this point, the film, in my opinion at least, is paced well, with the switches in time fitting well with the plot. The ending however is infuriating. Amid an outpour of more tears from Blanchard, the viewer is left wondering what on earth happened in the intermittent 5 years. And not in a mysterious, done on purpose kind of way, more in a "we've cut out the montage telling you exactly why these two characters appear to not have seen each other in 5 years despite being new best buds and why Verástegui decided to trim his beard perfectly to the same annoying length without ever feeling the need to get rid of it all together". It really is a shame, too, as until that point the film had all the potential to be perfectly competent and touching, if not a little bland around the edges.
I'll give it a begrudging 3/5 simply as a congratulations to Verástegui for carrying the film alone.

Case in Pointe

Yes I have used the same pun from the title of my ballet blog which is yet to be kicked into motion, but it's the only relevant semi-intelligent title I could come up with for this post, so deal with it.


The trailer for Darren Aronofsky's latest, Black Swan was released yesterday evening. Since hearing about the upcoming release, I have already been brushing up on my ballet films, but thanks to the trailer, I can now bore you all with reasons why you should or should not see the following films.

Billy Elliot
I have something of a love/hate relationship with this film. I love the soundtrack. I love the boy who plays Billy's gay friend, Michael. I love Julie Walters in it. The plot of the film (namely young working class boy caught up in the strife of Thatcher's north-east England struggles against his father's bigotism to convince the world ballet is a manly passtime and finally makes it) should be loveable, but unfortunately, because Jamie Bell was so horribly bad at dancing, it becomes almost wholly unbelievable that Billy would have been trying to be a dancer at all. Yes as a "dancer" myself I am going to be far more critical of this aspect than the average viewer, but a simple instruction to Jamie: "point your fucking toe" would have raised his level of dancing at least 50%. I can point blank guarantee that the Royal Ballet School would not accept a potential candidate if they couldn't even point their toe. Soz. Another gross inaccuracy which only those who give a shit about ballet itself would have noticed and been aggrieved by is the ending. Billy's father and big brother make their way to to the Royal Opera House (something which is highlighted frequently through shots of the famous building) to watch Billy in his first leading role. Except his first leading role appears to be lead swan in Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake. Which has never been performed by the Royal Ballet in that Matthew Bourne has his own company of dancers, and when he does employ other artists, he uses the English National Ballet. The reason why this particular production was chosen to feature in the film, I'm guessing, is because the actor who played Billy all grown up was Adam Cooper, the star of Matthew Bourne's production. Ah well at least they used a real dancer for that role.

The Red Shoes
This 1948 classic is one of my all time favourite films. Moira Shearer (an actual dancer) plays Victoria Page in this adaptation of the classic Hans Christian Andersen fairytale. The film to me, possibly because it's one of the first films I ever really fell in love with, is a perfect example of classic cinema at its best. There are lovely extended dancing scenes featuring excerpts from Swan Lake and Giselle as well as the ballet, The Red Shoes itself. Moira is pure perfection in the film, and even though she starred in other films, and danced many other roles, she was always remembered as Vicky.

The Company
This 2003 film about the Joffrey Ballet in Chicago is sheer modern dance-film excellence. Shot in almost a cinema-verité style, the film follows Neve Campbell among other real members of the company, with a lovely romantic subplot between Campbell and verified amazingness James Franco. Don't worry, Franco doesn't dance. Campbell herself trained with at the National Ballet School of Canada, and in this film gets to put her at times exquisite dancing skillz to use in the extended scenes of contemporary ballet. The film offers a funny, touching and informative insight into the lives of those within a major company. Basically The Company is the holy trinity of a good dance film: well written, well acted and well danced.

The Turning Point
Another film which has managed to capture my heart, The Turning Point is pure 1970s cinema. Depicting the growing conflict between aging ballerina Emma Jacklin and ex-member of the company and best friend, Deedee Rodgers. Emma is fictitious lead principal of the American Ballet Company and begins mentoring Deedee's daughter, Emilia who herself becomes a prominent member of the company. The young dancer falls for Yuri, played excellently by Mikhail Baryshnikov, who in case you didn't know, is one of the greatest ballet dancers ever (and also went on to star as Aleksander Petrovsky in Sex and the City...) The emotional conflict between Emma (Anne Bancroft, who received an Oscar nomination for the role) and Deedee (Shirley Maclaine) is believable and heartfelt, and the dancing, which features heavily but not enough to impose on the narrative, is both spectacularly choreographed by the créme-de-la-créme of history's choreographers and danced by some of the world's greatest dancers of the time including Antoinette Sibley, Leslie Browne and of course Baryshnikov. Baryshnikov is in fact, in my opinion at least, the highlight of the film. When he takes to the stage in his solos, your jaw will literally hang open and I guarantee you will both well up and feel aroused - (maybe don't hold me to that...) Sometimes the dialogue is a bit dodgy, but the sheer splendour of it all, and the laborious efforts made to keep it realistic and yet enthralling make this one of the greatest dance films ever made. Watch. It.

Meat Grinder

Meat Grinder is probably one of the most poorly titled films I've ever come across. The title has dictated the film's marketing angle: a torture-porn flick for the "gorehounds". As someone who's not easily affected by such gore, and am always seeking a film which will do the unthinkable and actually shock me, I was eager to see whether this would manage to.
It didn't. Yes the graphic scenes may turn a weaker stomach than my own, but they were nowhere near as disturbing as the likes of Antichrist or even Hostel's gorier moments. In actual fact, Meat Grinder is a far more effective film than its title might suggest, for reasons completely unrelated to its gore content. The depiction of protagonist Buss' eventual psychological breakdown, largely helped by the cut away flashback scenes, is alarmingly subtle for film which one might expect to be a balls-out bloodbath. The cinematography is at times spectacular, and the plot a lot more slowburning than I'm sure anyone will be expecting when they first switch on. What we have here is a Thai psychological thriller akin to Park Chan Wook's films though not quite as competent perhaps. Pathos for Buss, the owner of the noodle bar where extra tasty treats in the form of human body parts get added as a delicacy is achieved surprisingly deftly, but at times the obvious desire to shock the audience doesn't sit comfortably alongside the drama and narrative while others like Lars Von Trier managed this almost nonchalantly. It's a shame, because I feel if the film had only been tidied up around the edges, Tiwa Moeithaisong could really have proven something for Thai cinema.

Night of the Demons

I was going to tell you to go and see this film when it's released on 17th September because I was told the following line of dialogue featured in it:
"Eat a bowl of fuck, I am here to PARTY!"

And then I found out that it doesn't. So honestly? Don't waste your time or money on this. Unless you want to see a demon reportedly put a lipstick into her breast and have it come out of her "pussy". Which of course, you do.

22 Bullets

I somewhat jumped the gun when I tweeted "22 Bullets is a solid 3.5 stars film" on Tuesday evening. It isn't. At best I'd award this fairly-mundane-but-glossy-in-the-same-way-all-French-films-appear-to-be film 3 stars. I'd been in the office between 9 and 7 and was then expected to make coherent conclusions about a 2 hour film? Dream on pal. The opening and closing sequences of the film, in all fairness, are worthy of 4 stars in themselves, and these are clearly what tricked my tired and sensitive-to-such-trickery brain into believing the distinctly average 75% of the film sandwiched between these sequences was also good. There's nothing necessarily bad about the rest of it, there's just very little which is actually commendable. Having said that, Jean Reno is extremely watchable for the enitrety of the film, and his son is possibly the most freaking cute kid I've seen in a film ever. This may be enough to distract you from the sheer mundanity of it all at the time of watching, but in the stark light of hindsight, you'll realise you've spent an hour and a half watching Jean Reno kill people in fairly unimaginative ways and some fairly unimaginative police-investigation scenes preceeded and followed by 10 minutes of awesomeness. I'm still deciding if these 20 minutes make it OK for me to recommend the film to you. You decide.
22 Bullets is released in cinemas on September 3rd.

Cherrybomb

Cherry Bomb is one of those films which I have been trying to watch for a ridiculous amount of time, mostly because it stars Rupert Grint and Robert Sheehan. In fact I think the only interest most people of the female persuasion even had in the film, was to see what Ron Weasley would be like when swear words, an Irish accent and partial nudity were thrown into the equation. The answer? Average at best. His Irish accent was less reliable than a [insert Harry Potter spell here because I can't think of one...] though his ginger hair and alabaster skin for whatever reason are enough probably to keep most girls interested for at least half the film. Robert Sheehan on the other hand is far more capable - granted he plays a role pretty much bang in the middle of the two roles he is most admired for here in Britain: BJ in Red Riding and Nathan in Misfits, so the role wasn't exactly a huge challenge, but he still possesses more talent and charisma in his little finger than poor Weasley could dream of. At the moment at least. As for the other two leads, Kimberley Nixon (you might know her from such hits as Angus Thongs and Perfect Snogging and er Wild Child) is confusingly plain for such a commotion to be made over her, and James Nesbitt is potentially the least effective "bad father" I've ever seen. All in all, the film was about as believable as an episode of Skins, and less emotionally engaging, if at all possible. Still, I'm glad I got to see Weasley like this.

Angel

Just when I thought the impossible had happened and I had fallen out of love with the mighty Fassbender, I suddenly "got" Angel. The script is garish, the sets kitsch and the soundtrack beyond melodramatic, but it's meant to be like that you see? Michael Fassbender's role as the "heroine" Angel (either Romola Garai at her very best, or very worst - I haven't decided)'s husband explains in wonderful technicolour exactly why Tarantino saw fit to cast him as the hilarious parody of an English soldier in the role of Lt. Archie Hicox. And now that I feel I'm in on Francois Ozon's laboriously constructed joke, I am back to being all gushy about Michael (are first name terms appropriate?). Should I ever meet him, and there is a very dangerous possibility that I might, words wouldn't be on the menu let me assure you. Especially after this - ding dong. After seeing that he can pack a punch in a "period piece" such as this, I eagerly await his performance in Jane Eyre.
I have nothing really of any use left to say about the film, other than to correct a mistake made in an earlier entry about Ozon's upcoming film Le Refuge. It isn't out on DVD at all, it is indeed hitting cinemas - potentially one near you.

McFly The Nest

Anyone who's known me for longer than perhaps 24 hours will be lucky to hear me recount the "good old days" when I was 15 and literally did nothing other than be in love with McFly. I honestly couldn't explain to you now what it was about those 4 twits that really did it for me and a couple of my best friends - but we were unashamedly obsessed. Dougie was my favourite (something which has subconsciously led me to the decision to have a ginger version of Frankie Sandford's haircut...ish), followed by Harry, then Danny then Tom. My love knew no limits: a friend and I found out their address and made a whole 3 visits to lurk outside. I used to wear one of their plectrums as an earring and...the more I think about this the more I want to hate myself. But terrifying stalker tendencies aside, it's pretty clear they were my life for a good year. Sometimes when I rarely hear one of their songs these days it fills me with happiness/nostalgia/the urge to get back into a pair of long shorts and my vans and pretend I'm really cool. However, I have just managed to hear their newest song and all I have to say is "what the McFlying fuck is all that about?" Their whole "thing" was that they played their own instruments and were a boy BAND, not a literal boyband who sing autotuned crap like Party Girl. McFly, you are dead to me. Good job you're all punching above your weight with your current squeezes or else one might have to pity you. How tragic.

If you came away from this only pitying me, and not McFly, don't worry - I don't blame you. Here's some light relief in the form of my favourite video of theirs - comedy genius.

Fuck Tha Police

Seeing as I've been running round like a literal crazy person for the past 2 weeks thanks to having to attend graduation up in Liverpool, having a job and what I'll call a social life but doesn't really count as one, I've only had time to watch 3 films and the opening credits of another. All of these films will be discussed at one point or another but today I'm focusing on Let Him Have It and Sus. If you watch either of these and end up with anything besides a disgusted view of the British justice system (however outdated this opinion might be given that one documents the Derek Bentley case of 1953 and the other is set on the eve of Thatcher's election in 1979) you are literally some form of zomboid who doesn't deserve the right to vote/exist.

Let Him Have It, in my humble opinion, should be re-made, not re-released. Christopher Eccleston does provide a fairly admirable performance, but so much of the rest of the cast are so mind-bendingly annoying you kind of forget about poor old Chris. The film is also inexcusably long-winded in its getting to the fucking point - there's setting the scene and then there's just taking the piss. Negativity aside, however, the Derek Bentley case has been hugely important within the history of British justice (to put it simply, Bentley was wrongly hanged for the murder of PC Sidney Miles even though he did not fire the shot and was in fact in police custody at the time - the actual shooter Christopher Craig was under 18 so could not be hanged), and so it is only right that it should be put to screen in this way. The film is also a huge milestone in the career of the fantastic Eccleston, so it's definitely worth watching to witness his fairly humble beginnings if nothing else. The DVD is out on 9th August so you know, make my job easier and buy the thing.

Sus is a much harder hitting film, adapted from Barrie Keeffe, the writer of The Long Good Friday's play. Clint Dyer who plays the lead is pretty bloody amazing at times - switching from suave, cocky, cheeky and charming to the perfect portrayal of the scared, grieving captive almost flawlessly. Rafe Spall and Ralph Brown, who play the two coppers however leave a fair amount to be desired. The two are pretty much just caricatures who wouldn't seem too out of place in a Little Britain sketch. Centered around the Sus laws, the film shines a light on the injustices of stop-and-search and the tragic consequences which can unravel as a result.

Both films have made me really eager to watch all three Red Ridings again (the trilogy was based on David Peace's quartet of novels and probably can still be found on 4OD or something). If you're looking to stir up some hatred, give these three, along with Sus and Let Him Have It a go - you'll come away feeling all political and punk and other words beginning with "P".

Inception

Last night I put my tiredness after a 9-5 week aside in order to see one of the most anticipated films of the year on the day of release. I've been almost frothing at the mouth with excitement over it for the past 2 months, now, so I sure was glad that it didn't disappoint. If anything, it surpassed my expectations. Chris Nolan (bold statement alert) really has set the new standard for film making after this impeccable mind-bender of a spectacle - my next cinema experience will be somewhat marred I'm sure by the fact that in no way will Toy Story 3, or any other upcoming film, no matter how good it may be, quite compare. The action sequences are so incredibly fucking cool, your popcorn may well drop out of your gaping jaw (mine sure did - embarrassing.) The effects were awesome, the acting was outstanding from literally every member of the cast (though Tom Hardy and Marion Cotillard in my humble opinion deserve a special mention - I must also point out what a suave son of a bitch Joseph Gordon Levitt has become) and the score, though not quite as atmosphere enhancing as that which Zimmer created for The Dark Knight still receives a gold star. What really defies belief, however, is the sheer intricacy of the film. The various "levels" of dream world, and all the plot twists and turns require the work of a true genius in order to not let the viewer become overwhelmed. Yes, I am calling Chris Nolan a genius. In fact, I want to lick his brain, and then rub it against my own brain until we have brain babies which I can nurture and study in an attempt to understand how one man's brain can be so fucking cool. The ending of the film was so smart (though I daresay a tiny bit of an obvious choice given the theme of the film) it made all those smarmy gits sat around me make a statement approximating "ahonghonghong yasyas very good" and I'm sure in the months between now and its DVD release, we'll all be discussing what the ending truly means.

This really was a gushing "review", if you can call it that. But if it makes you go and see it any faster: job done.

More on Ezra Miller

It suddenly occurred to me in my obsessive google image stalking of the young Ezra this afternoon where I knew his face from: Afterschool. He plays the lead character in the grittiest depiction of high school drama since Gus Van Sant's Elephant. The same cinema verité style is used, and although the film does not document a real event in the same manner as Gus Van Sant's opus does, there is the same feeling of impending tragedy throughout. Also, unlike in Elephant, we are allowed to see the impact of the "tragedy". Miller is perfect in it - I've actually been meaning to recommend this film for a while now so cheers Ezra for being better than fantastic in two films. I eagerly await Beware the Gonzo and Every Day now.

City Island

Thursday night brought around the screening of City Island, a comedy from Raymond De Felitta which is being hailed as this year's Little Miss Sunshine meets Juno - I'm suspecting the former comparison is largely due to the fact Alan Arkin has a bit-part, though the family-drama type thing it has going on is also you know, a possibility. In truth, it's as good as neither, but that's not to say it's without its merits. Andy Garcia who stars as the head of the dysfunctional family (what's that you say? a comedy featuring a family who isn't completely "functional"?) is actually very, very good in a role which is pretty far removed from anything he's ever done before, and his very strong accent which he had to adopt for the role (cause you know, it's set in da Bronx) never falters. Julianna Margulies (that chick who used to shag George Clooney in E.R) co-stars and she's very good also, and WOW has she gotten better with age. The best lines in the film however go to Ezra Miller, newcomer who plays Andy and Julianna's son who's into fat chicks. Which gives me hope (har har). I fell in love with him a tiny bit which made me feel a bit like a paedophile but hot damn LOOK at him (that's him with his apparent girlfriend, Zoe Kravtiz. Bitch.) Andy Garcia's real life daughter Dominik plays his on-screen daughter (I'm guessing Andy pulled some strings?) and the resemblance between the two is pretty uncanny at times. The only element of the film which wound me up was Emily fucking Mortimer. I don't think she's capable of playing a role other than a flighty posh English woman who says silly and at times pretentious things but in an oh-so-charming manner. FUCK OFF EMILY. You're making us English girls look bad. Her aside, the film is fun, with some very clever moments - Andy's audition scene is fantastic as is the dinner table scene in which my new found love excels. Definitely go see it when it comes out on July 23rd.

Most excitingly - I may be meeting Garcia himself tomorrow if all goes to plan. Trying to choose the perfect outfit which says "hi it's raining but still really muggy but look how pretty and professional I can still look at your press junket". Tricky.

Ultra Culture Cinema

On Wednesday night the cinematic event of the day took place at the ICA, namely Ultra Culture Cinema #3. For those of you who aren't already acquainted with Ultra Culture - familiarise yourself with "The UK's Greatest Movie Blog" instantly. If you don't want to click on that link, UC is also featured in my Blog Roll. You really have no excuse. When I first stumbled upon it, many moons ago (at least 10?) I spent the majority of those next few days poring over every bloody word I could squeeze out of the available content. This proved damaging to whatever essay it was I was working on at the time, but beneficial to my life generally. So go on - enrich your lives, have a gander.
So, I, and the other UCC attendees who had torn themselves away from the oh-so-hyped Spain v. Germany match (only to be delighted that they hadn't bothered staying in to see it) were treated to an evening of delights. Despite immediately being horrified to learn my little sister (she's 18, and about half a foot taller than me, but she still counts as "my little sister" - she is thinner after all) was friends/acquainted with Ultra Culture creator Charlie Lyne's friend and free-ticket holding member of the audience. This might not seem like such bad news, but when you're "in PR" and your younger sister who's barely got her foot out of college is better connected than you are, humiliation is all you can feel. Incidentally, it is my mid-year resolution to use the phrase "I'm in PR" as many times in casual conversation as possible - I really enjoy sounding like a yuppy toff. Anyway, before the film was released upon our hungry eyes, we were treated to some entertainment in two parts. The majority of the first part of said entertainment involved free treats like cans of Fanta and Beer or the odd Curly Wurly (apparently a hot commodity) being passed around. Previously mentioned little sister was particularly eager to get her mitts on these. I asked her "what else do you want, the shirt off his back?" to which she replied "yes actually, I like his jumper". And it was indeed a very snazzy jumper. Kudos. The second half of the entertainment was provided by comedian/magician/love child of Peter Crouch and Sue Perkins (he describes himself as such), Chris Cox. Initially I thought this was going to be painfully awkward to watch, but he was actually very entertaining indeed. As was the girl who was dragged up on to stage who was wearing an outfit which definitely allowed me to see her actual nipples. The lesbian inside of me enjoyed this immensely.
After all this excitement, the lights dimmed, and the wonderful video below started. UCC #2, where Trash Humpers was shown, began what I hope will be a continuing trend to include funny videos prior to the actual feature with this being shown beforehand.

For some reason I was particularly excited that it was David Roy from Dananananaykroyd in the video, not because I've ever listened to them (I will) but because I "did some promotion" for various singles of theirs last summer while interning at Wild. Oh the life of a PR genius.
We then all settled down for the main event, Mother. The film is the latest from Bong Joon-Ho who has now been compared to Hitchcock by pretty much everyone who matters, and if I knew more about Hitchcock, I'd probably agree. That makes me sound like someone who's never seen a Hitchcock film, which simply isn't true, I just haven't seen nearly enough to make sweeping statements confidently. ANYWAY there's always a certain degree of anxiety over how good a film's going to be when you've managed to convince your companions to come with you. The film was of course excellent - the perfect mix of tension, humour and shock-factor topped off with breathtaking cinematography and a killer script. All this AND middle aged Korean women pulling some shapes in a field/coach? My companions were duly satisfied. For more on the film, download the notes here.

The audience was very excited when the film for next month's Ultra Culture Cinema was announced. I won't spoil the surprise, although 2 out of 3 of my readers were actually with me on Wednesday evening. So that leaves you, yes YOU, make sure you have August 25th free and available. You won't regret it. You can buy me a drink afterwards for recommending it in fact.

White Material

White Material is the latest post-colonial African narrative (do you remember when films of this nature were so en Vogue you couldn't move for the awards given to the likes of Hotel Rwanda, Blood Diamond and Last King of Scotland??) to be delivered from the imagination of Claire Denis, who according to the Guardian is "a poet of mood and movement". It's not difficult to see why such an accolade would be bestowed upon the writer and director who seems to have a fascination with documenting the breakdown of social order in a variety of both named and unnamed African countries (the location for White Material falls into the latter category). You know what they say, stick to what you know. The film is tense without relying on the usual techniques one might expect to find in the handling of the subject matter; allowing the viewer to feel what the protagonist, Maria Vial (played excellently by Isabelle Hupert) is experiencing rather than ramming the political message down our throats.
I won't say much more about the film, because everything there is to say has been said much more eloquently by seasoned professionals, and would never capture the raw brilliance of the piece. It's currently showing at Brixton's Ritzy, Cambridge Picturehouse and Edinburgh's Cameo Picturehouse, among others I'm sure. The film isn't for everyone, (those of you who're too lazy to read subtitles for one...) but it's one of the most sophisticated and credible films of its kind. Go see it.

Le Refuge

Le Refuge ("The Refuge" for all you non French speakers) is François Ozon's most recent release (though Potiche has recently finished production...)and although I've admittedly never seen any of his other works, I will now be doing my best to track them down; especially Angel, Un Lever De Rideau, Swimming Pool and Water Drops on Burning Rocks. I've heard nothing but good things about Ozon in the past, and boy did this particular film prove them. The script is funny, moving and tender, the acting from the three leads (especially from the mesmerising Isabelle Carré) is flawless: never under or over played. Each shot is full of the style one would expect from a French release, and although the film deals with the consequences of drug use and death, anything but strangers to the big screen as camera subjects, nothing about the film feels clichéd or done. If you're interested in seeing this, it's released over here (on DVD I think, but maybe in cinemas...) on August 13th by Artificial Eye.

Garfield meets Spiderman

Today in Hollywood casting news: Andrew Garfield (possibly my favourite British young actor...) is set to play the new Spiderman. I actually can picture it, just about. Along with all the rumours of Fassbender joining up to the new film, too - this film is set to be a corker. Or uselessly shit despite a good cast. We'll see.

Holy Shit Son

I was going to post the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows trailer, but everyone MUST have already seen that. So instead I bring you Paranormal Activity 2.



I hope it's as scary as a) it looks and b) the first one. I'll actually go to the cinema to see this one I think.

Memory Lane

This is probably lacking in relevance to anyone, but it tickled me a little.
Today I went to visit my Grandmother (she's 95 in 2 and a half weeks, yo - doesn't look a day over 80) in Edinburgh and bless her heart she'd looked out all these old letters I used to send her and diary entries I wrote (then gave to her??) back when I was 10 years old and stayed with her a whole lot because a) I didn't like spending the holidays with my parents and b) my parents didn't like me spending my holidays with them. Holy mother of God that was a long sentence but whatevs. One of the pieces of paper she handed me was apparently the start of some kind of film I was working on for Tim Burton i.e. pointless, horrfically self-consciously "kooky" and unintelligible. Sorry Tim Burton stans, I really dislike the man and 99.9% of his films (excluding of course The Nightmare Before Christmas - childhood classic, the first Batman, and some of Edward Scissorhands.) I'm not sure what this random excerpt was originally written for, it seems to be part of a diary entry but maybe I was trying to write a "story". Either way, the spelling and grammar is perfect (congrats 10 y old me, you'll later become semi-retarded) and seeing as I was such a wee nipper still, I thought I'd share the sheer quirkiness of it. And I quote:
"Once upon a time I took a brief stroll along my bed, this would be my exercise for the month. I promptly got back into bed and dreamt of fish swimming in cheese. I wish I was a fish. When I woke up I had a plate of...yes you guessed it...tortilla chips [what bloody 10 year old knows how to spell "tortilla" correctly without spell checking it?]I then went to the river intent on drowning myself. I soon discovered this would not be possible as the water was only ankle depth. When back at my house I lit a fire in my fireplace. I then remembered I did not own a fireplace. It's my house and...
God only knows what I would have gone on to say. SO, things we have learnt about me:
- I always have and always will write rambly, useless prose for no apparent reason.
- I was a v. troubled child.
- I am 90% sure the above discovery explains why I spent my holidays at my Granny's.

Costumes Cracked

One of 2009's most stunning films which managed to completely pass me by was Cracks, starring 3 of the most beautiful young, and not so young actresses on the circuit at the moment (Eva Green, Juno Temple and Imogen Poots).
The plot and cinematography are both captivating, and Eva Green's performance more than compensates for the younger cast members' acting which although competent, can at times leave a little to be desired. What really enthralls the viewer, however, and contributes to the true spectacle of the film, are the costumes. Allison Byrne, the costume designer for the film, mixes a wonderful range of vintage sourced pieces (the majority from London's Angels) and modern couture pieces to really encapsulate the 30's fashion. Eva Green's splendid outfits are truly magnificent, though the costumes provided for the young girls (particularly for Juno, Imogen and newcomer, María Valverde) are also worthy of note. Costumes haven't impressed me in quite this way since the likes of The Changeling, Atonement and Marie Antoinette. Seeing as it is the costumes which really make the film the visual treat that it is, I'll leave the pictures to do the rest of the explaining.
































There's an interview with Allison Byrne, the woman responsible for such finery, here, and although Cracks itself isn't dealt with, ClothesOnFilm deals with a magnificent array of the finest costumes within film and television.

Face / Off

I'm on a real Nic Cage kick at the moment (largely thanks to Kick Ass and Bad Lieutenant Port of Call: New Orleans) which thankfully restored the semi-deity to his rightful position as Hollywood's insane(ly) great actor. Therefore I've been trying to re-watch the classics (Con Air being my first port of call...)and today's treat was the epic Face / Off. Less than 4 minutes into the film and you're treated to the Cage (how he should be properly addressed) 'dutty wining' to Handel's The Messiah. Clip below. Can someone please explain to me WHY he's dressed as a priest and there's a choir singing when they don't appear to be anywhere near a church?


Shit gets a bit boring in the very middle where the newly transformed Shane Archer doesn't need to pretend to be Caster Troy anymore so the Cage is forced to become all gooey and distressed about being in an alien body, but the scenes where he IS Caster Troy make the film so worthwhile. Even John Travolta is bearable: I especially love the joke made at his own expense regarding that chin of his. Yes the film is cheesy to the max, and all that sentimental face stroking which goes on would annoy the hell out of most families, but there's just something about the hugely unrealistic film and Cage's performance which captivates.

One final criticism however, is it just a Hollywood gimmick, or is every Catholic church in the States really full of this many doves?

A Woman Obsessed

I have taken to pointing out Band of Brothers actors in any programme/film I now watch. Today's watch: Dexter Fletcher AKA Sgt. Martin in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. Every time I watch this I wish I knew the type of geezers as portrayed by Guy Ritchie. I v. much wish I could pull off cockney slang with my middle-class-only-faintly-south-london-tinged accent. I've tried it. I can't.

Currently in East Lothian about 40 minutes from Edinburgh. Sharing a small bungalow/cottage with one sister, 2 parents and 4 wet dogs is pretty challenging but being an adult now, I have been initiated into the Paxton family's drinking problem. As has the little sister 3 years ahead of schedule.

I'm now backing Argentina...

jus sayin

IN-GER-LAND

Michael Fassbender

Besides having the best name ever, Mr. Fassbender is one of the best looking men around and has also provided incredible performances in 4 of my favourite films from the past couple of years: Eden Lake, Hunger, Fish Tank and Inglourious Basterds. However, following his critical success, it would seem Michael has abandoned his selection of credible roles given his upcoming Jonah Hex, Jane Eyre, Haywire etc. Furthermore, he's now rumoured to be playing Eric Lehnsherr (who later becomes Magneto) in X-Men: First Class. I actually quite enjoy the X-Men films, but it would seem the Bender has gone down the same route as James McAvoy: critical acclaim went to his head and now all he signs up for are the likes of Wanted (McAvoy is also rumoured to be taking on Professor Charles Xavier in the newest installment of X-Men incidentally...) I know it sounds stupid, and I should be pleased for the man that he's clearly being recognised for his talent, but I have a habit of putting people on ridiculous pedestals from which I never allow them to step down. Basically, I can't be bothered reading a bad review about him.

Incidentally, I've now started reading Stephen Ambrose's original book, Band of Brothers and have since become more annoyed at the mini-series. Sgt. Burton Christenson (the role Fassbender plays in the HBO series) features quite a lot in the book, and is one of the key interviewees of the author. All I can do is shake my head at whoever made the decision to cut him out of the show so much.

Greenberg

This evening my sister and I went to see Greenberg, the latest from Noah Baumbach (writer of Fantastic Mr. Fox and the writer and director of Margot at the Wedding and The Squid and the Whale etc.) The moment I heard Greta Gerwig was co-starring I was immediately keen to see it. If you're big on girls who aren't shy of getting their kit off in films, Greta's your girl. Plus you know, she can act. Or in fact, I'm becoming more and more convinced she's not actually acting, she's just choosing roles in which she plays herself. Either way, I like her - I'd quite like to be her friend. Anyway, when I first heard this was going to be Ben Stiller's "chance to act", I was somewhat dubious given how much I hate the man. But in Greenberg this hatred I'm sure I'm not alone in possessing conveniently works in his favour and he actually fits the bill quite well. In fact, I'm struggling to think of an actor who would have played the role any more successfully. Rhys Ifans offers a solid supporting-role performance, though it could be argued that the role wasn't exactly challenging. Quietly-sulky-but-generally-pretty-friendly wouldn't require even the rookiest of Hollywood's "talent" to break an acting sweat. A slightly plumper Greta than I'm used to mumbles her way through the film as charmingly as ever and the dog even does a pretty stand-up job (though I did keep thinking he wasn't nearly as beautiful as Otto, our family's German Shepherd who died a couple of years ago). I will offer prospective viewers one warning however: watching Ben Stiller go down on Greta is possibly the most disturbing thing you'll ever see in a film.

Hot Kross Buns

Spielberg has announced the cast for his latest, War Horse adapted from the children's novel and play of the same name. If you're interested, Empire Magazine have outlined the cast here. I only really had a look out of half interest until I noticed David Kross's face among the chosen few. If you're wondering why you recognise the face, it'll be because he starred in The Reader alongside Kate Winslet. Thanks Spielberg for including him.
German? Check. Gawky? Check. Not shy of doing the horizontal tango on camera? Double check. LOVE. HIM.

Avatar Oorah

I succumbed a little to the Blu Ray bug after watching Band of Brothers and eventually surrendered to my curiosity to see what I'd make of Avatar after all the nonsense surrounding it. I feel like I've lost the past "155 minutes" of my life. The film was everything I was expecting it to be: all pretty colours and not a lot else. In fact the only thing I'll take away with me from this experience is the impression that U.S. Marines apparently say "YEAAAHHHH GET SOME" every other sentence. Oh.
If you've never seen the below videos before, watch them in their entirety. I promise they're worth it.