#76: Jumper (2008) February 8, 2010
Posted by badblokebob in : Action, Sci-fi, 2000s, adaptations, 3 stars, Adventure, 2009 , add a comment
In honour of Jumper’s central conceit — that certain people can instantaneously transport themselves to any other point on the planet — I will conduct this review by jumping about through paragraphs I wrote without bothering to link them properly. (Also done in honour of my laziness.)
Jamie Bell’s character, Griffin, is much more interesting than Hayden Christensen’s lead, but he’s also amoral — from a storytelling point of view (at least, a mainstream one) he needs a controlling influence, which is why he’s reduced to supporting and he’s-a-bad-boy-honest Christensen is the film’s focus point.
Acting wise, everyone’s just fine. Christensen is perhaps not the most convincing rebellious hero ever, but that’s as much the script’s fault as his and he’s a heck of a lot better than in either Star Wars prequel. Jackson could be a decent villain in his sleep, though Roland could perhaps do with a little more menace to live up to his reputation, while Rachel Bilson is a likable (read: pretty) enough love interest. But it’s Jamie Bell who — once again — really stands out. Why he isn’t heading up his own franchise yet is a mystery. (Oh, wait.)
The beginning is at times a little dull. Considering the film barely crosses the 80 minute mark before the credits roll, early on it feels like there could be a little more excitement and drive. The second half almost makes up for it. Budget is plastered across the screen in incredible action sequences that show off the promise of the concept to good effect. Griffin jumping a double decker bus at Roland is a particular highlight. The jumping car chase, on the other hand, is visually neat and a good idea, but also entirely pointless — for one thing, it’s not actually a chase (no one’s pursuing them), and they do it for no reason other than the sheer hell of it. It’s a shame, because it would’ve been even better given a proper place in the story.
The rules of jumping and the world they exist in seem incompletely thought-out; or, at best, inadequately explained. They go on about having ‘jump points’ or something, but then seem to be able to jump about at will, so what are these points? What’s their significance? Their use? How are they established?
Liman also blows a potential twist — that David isn’t the only one who has these abilities — too early in an attempt to flesh out Jackson’s villain. It’s a good scene in its own right and does serve a purpose, but story-wise it would play better after Bell shows himself to David. As it is, his ability to mysteriously follow David around is not so mysterious, his reveal more “and?” than “oh!”
Bourne-esque final scene… except more Supremacy than Identity, so while Liman is copying, it’s unfortunately not from himself.
Jumper is promising rather than accomplished. In the same way many view X-Men as necessary character introduction and setup for X2, so Jumper appears intended as a primer for the sequels Liman and co have (had?) planned. It may reduce you to thumb-twiddling at times, but there’s enough on offer to make a follow-up desirable.
#72: Hard Candy (2005) February 7, 2010
Posted by badblokebob in : Horror, Drama, Thriller, 2000s, 4 stars, 2009 , add a comment
Hard Candy’s director David Slade has followed this up with vampire horror with 30 Days of Night and will shortly unleash an altogether different kind of horror by joining the ranks of evil that are bringing us The Twilight ‘Saga’. His feature debut may be a two-hander between a teenage girl and middle-aged man, but in its own way it’s just as much a horror movie.
Actually, that’s mainly a review-opening conceit: one tense torture-ish sequence aside, Hard Candy is a consistently surprising thriller about real-world horrific things rather than depicting them itself. To reveal too much of the plot would spoil it, though I imagine most viewers will already be aware of the first big turn: the real intentions of Ellen Page’s 14-year-old protagonist. It follows this wannabe-surprise (”wannabe” because it occurs too early to escape description in most plot overviews) with a series of equally playful reversals. The viewer’s never quite sure of any fact about either of the two characters; never quite sure if they’re being genuine or at any moment will undermine their present emotion with the revelation it’s just an act, an attempt to fool the other. Arguably it’s played this card too often come the end, and perhaps it could have stood being a more efficient 80 minutes rather than pushing on to 100.
The other assertion in my introduction is also disingenuous, because there are more than two characters. It’s basically a two-hander though, reliant for great stretches on two people in a room conversing and attempting to outwit each other. It’s more exciting than that might sound — the action is far from limited to chatter. Such a production rests entirely on the skills of its two leads, and fortunately both provide excellent performances. Watchmen’s Patrick Wilson is perfectly cast to alternate charming and sleazy, though Ellen Page — pre Oscar nomination for Juno — is the stand-out. Actually 18 at the time, she’s more than convincing as an older-than-her-years 14-year-old, selling the character’s confidence but also revealing an occasional vulnerability and uncertainness that just about keep proceedings the right side of believable. Still, plausibility isn’t exactly the film’s strongest point. There’s enough that one follows it, with the more implausible sections wisely saved for later on, by which time we’re drawn in and accept that Page’s character is clever, cunning and above all prepared.
Other characters do intrude however, and it’s almost a shame when they turn up: it breaks the perfect technical accomplishment of a locationally-limited two-hander for little more than another few minutes of screen time. That said, it’s the arrival of the constantly-referenced former love that finally provokes the ending, a worthwhile climax to a film so caught up in its to-and-fros that anything less than the influence an external factor providing a conclusion would’ve been a disappointment. The neighbour character, on the other hand, feels a little too inevitable; an obvious attempt to ratchet up the tension that arrives too late. It seems Slade thinks it’s as compulsory as the audience might, and dispatches with it quickly… just not quickly enough.
Story aside, Slade’s direction makes for an interestingly shot film. There are many close-ups, in which characters and action are often calm, but then there are occasional explosions of flashy camerawork, usually during acts of violence or other sudden bursts of plot-driving action. The grading is similarly fiddled with during these sections, emphasising the primary-coloured walls of the house that make for an interesting backdrop. Indeed, the walls are used to particularly good — if, arguably, obvious — effect throughout, such as slowly panning across a red wall so that it fills the screen during the lengthy castration sequence.
Hard Candy is sort of a morality play, though it’s hardly a moral that requires increased awareness. Primarily it’s a revenge thriller though, and with limited settings and characters it makes for an admirably intense — if occasionally credibility-stretching — and pleasantly unusual entry in the genre.
#83: Children of Heaven (1997) February 6, 2010
Posted by badblokebob in : Drama, 4 stars, 1990s, world cinema, 2009 , add a comment
Children of Heaven is an Iranian film, which means it’s in a Foreign Language and it’s Subtitled. And yet, it was on ITV. Sometimes the mind boggles. Still, it was relegated to a post-midnight showing, so some things never change. Indeed, the one thing that inspired me to watch it is that it’s referred to by Roger Ebert in his wonderfully evangelical (about film, not Christianity (thank God!)) article to commemorate reaching 100 entries in his Great Movies series. I recommend it, incidentally; Children of Heaven comes up for good reason about halfway through.
The film itself is a charming little number, with a simple story about a brother and sister that nonetheless runs itself on inventive incident — the amount of (pleasingly light-hearted) drama it can ring from one missing pair of shoes is, in many ways, quite extraordinary. It also contains moments of simple beauty and pleasure, like blowing bubbles while cleaning or sunlight glittering on the goldfish pool. This is more what I had in mind when someone described Slumdog Millionaire as “feel-good”.
Speaking of which, Children of Heaven adds depth with an amiable commentary on poverty: this poor family live in close proximity to such rich ones, but they can all get along. When Zahra sees another girl wearing her shoes, she doesn’t confront her or demand them back, even when the other girl’s dad buys her a brand new pair and the all-important pair are thrown away again. Halfway through, Ali and their father go up to town and we see how the other half live — enough glass-fronted skyscrapers, dozen-laned roads, tree-lined avenues and blindingly-white mansions to rival any metropolis. And yet they don’t get angry at their lot, and the film doesn’t shove the obvious comparison down your throat. It doesn’t go for the simplistic and oft-tried “poor have little, but have each other so are ultimately happy; rich have lots, but are lonely and so ultimately sad” conclusion (though it does, briefly, err along that path), and nor does it end with the family getting rich and managing to move up in the world.
In fact, the finale deals solely with the issue of the shoes (pun not intended). It’s a long-distance running competition in which Ali must come third in order to win a new pair of sneakers. It’s nail-biting and a beautifully conceived idea — he doesn’t need to win, he needs to come third. If only mainstream films were so simply innovative more often.
Unfortunately, several plot threads feel underdeveloped or unresolved, ultimately coming across as a pleasant but unnecessary aside — the elderly neighbours, for example, who Ali delivers soup to in one scene, or the persistent landlord. The viewer can read more into these if they wish — the neighbours representing the generosity of those with nothing, for example, while we can assume the landlord is eventually paid off now Ali’s father apparently has better employment — but the film itself does nothing with them. There’s a difference between not spelling things out and just abandoning them, and perhaps Children of Heaven falls on the wrong side of this divide. It’s most galling at the very end (after the race), when the film seems to just stop abruptly. IMDb notes that originally there was an epilogue explaining Ali’s future which is for some reason absent from the American-released version, and the presence of something like that is indeed missed. However, the interweb can also provide theories on how the foreshortened ending does have significance, with the goldfish being symbolic, if one chooses to look for them.
But no matter — it seems churlish to complain about such diversions. Children of Heaven is a beautifully simple and good-hearted film and, apparently, a great way to introduce children to the notion of having to read while watching a film.
* This is timed from ITV’s broadcast. The listed running time is 89 minutes; with PAL speed-up this would be c.85; hopefully the remaining three are accounted for by snipping the closing credits.
#13: Air Force One (1997) February 4, 2010
Posted by badblokebob in : Action, Thriller, 4 stars, 1990s, 2010 , 1 comment so far
Harrison Ford stars as President Indiana Jones — sorry, Jack Ryan — no, James Marshall (that’s it) in this action-thriller from the Die Hard school of moviemaking. Yep, this is “Die Hard on a plane” — except it’s not any old plane, it’s Air Force frickin’ One; and the Bruce Willis character isn’t any old washed-up cop, it’s the frickin’ President of the U.S. frickin’ A. Hells yeah!
At least, that’s how I imagine the pitch went.
It’s a faintly ridiculous premise: Russian terrorists take control of the President’s aircraft in an attempt to get their favourite General released from prison; the President, still on board unbeknownst to them, goes all John McClane. On their ass. Es. Oh, whatever. The really fun thing is, screenwriter Andrew W. Marlowe and/or director Wolfgang Petersen seem to have set themselves the task of upping the level of ludicrousness about every ten to fifteen minutes — the things that go on during the final act have to be seen to be believed and so I won’t ruin them here. Though, suffice to say, if you think someone taking a bullet for the President is old hat, imagine what a fighter jet might do…
If you can suspend your disbelief — and that’s certainly the film’s greatest intellectual challenge — then what goes on is pretty fun. Yes, much of it’s a Die Hard re-hash, but (as someone once said) if you’re going to steal, steal from the best. The initial hostile takeover may be the best action sequence, but the story does its best to hold our interest with a variety of new problems to be solved by the war-hero President-turned-action-hero (the former mentioned in one line of dialogue to help explain the latter, naturally). More entertaining, it must be said, is watching Marlowe and Petersen battle with the problem of making a fairly brief idea stretch to a feature.
Unfortunately, this problem sometimes manifests itself too obviously. The lead villain is dispatched before the final act kicks in. Even if you think narrative theory and screenwriting how-to guides have too large an influence on modern movie structure, surely most will agree that dispensing with your antagonist a good 20 to 30 minutes before the credits roll is a bit much. Though the badly damaged plane still has to be landed, it doesn’t have quite the same anyone-could-die tension as much of the film; a tension which impresses, incidentally, as there’s a disaster movie level of suspense in the potential executions, something most action thrillers fail to achieve with a line up of victims and survivors that’s predictable from the get-go.
A cast who were later TV bound (just see how many faces you can spot from the likes of 24, CSI and, for one of the big stars, Damages) give their all, though Gary Oldman is wasted in a sub-Hans Gruber / neutered-Stansfield role. Harrison Ford again shows he can play variations on a theme — President Jim Marshall may not be as cocky as Han Solo or Indy, but he’s an older figure from the same ballpark. But that’s what’s required in the role and that’s why he was cast, so why complain? On the technical side, there’s a showcase array of pre-CGI-overload special effects, particularly in the closing minutes.
The film’s most interesting facet, 13 years on, is the opening. President Marshall’s stance on terrorism and his commitment to stopping evil foreign regimes probably sounded great rhetoric at the time; and it probably sounded even better post-9/11, when those who perpetrate terrorism and those regimes that support it were obviously at the forefront of everyone’s mind. But after Afghanistan and Iraq, it’s beginning to seem a little awkward. As we’ve seen, tyranny may be quickly overthrown, but peace is much harder to restore; and genocides are worth stopping, but only if there’s oil involved. President Marshall’s peace still sounds bold an correct in theory, but it’s difficult to imagine it going down so well today.
But, really, that’s a retrospectively unfortunate aside: the West Wing-esque fast-talking political early minutes are really just set-up for the barmy action that follows, and taken on that level it’s as disposable as it needs to be.
Overall, my favourite thing about Air Force One is an indefinable quality: it’s an 80s/90s action-thriller, the kind of thing Hollywood gave us before The Matrix came along and changed everything. It has a feel — the same one that’s in Die Hard (of course), or The Rock, or other films of this era — that we don’t seem to get any more. Things move on and change, naturally, but I miss this quality a bit, and it’s always nice to discover another example of it.
The ‘Best Pictures’ of the Noughties February 1, 2010
Posted by badblokebob in : Editorials, 2000s, statistics, 2010 , 3 commentsWith 2010’s Oscar nominees due to be announced tomorrow sometime (I believe it’s “OMG why so early?!” if you’re in the States and “during the day” in Blighty’s time zone, but that’s all I know), I thought I’d have a look back at how I’ve done seeing the Best Picture nominees from the noughties. Feel free to play along. (Not that I’m actually going to list them.)
Such a task therefore includes 2000’s nominations… all of which are, of course, technically from the last decade… but tish, that’s enough of technicalities! This is end-of-the-decade-lists-year, goddamit, and I will have my Oscar Best Pictures List! So ner.
Things don’t get off to an auspicious start unfortunately: despite having a whole 10 years to catch them, I’ve still only seen three of 2000’s nominations — and one of those was only a bit over a year ago. Maybe I will start counting from 2001’s lot after all…
Except that, whatever tomorrow’s nods bring, I’m not likely to have seen many of them, even with that potentially awkward increase to 10 nominees (10×5 is such a neater equation than 9×5+1×10, somehow. Anyway…) Taking RopeofSilicon’s prediction list as an indicator because, well, it’s the only one I’ve stumbled across, I’ve seen a measly two of the top ten… and it only goes up to three if you broaden it to his top 21. Whatever comes about tomorrow, I won’t've seen many. I need to get to the cinema more.
So back to the ‘real’ noughties, then. (Still with me? Oh, someone is! I’ll try to speed this up anyway…)
I’ve seen all the films from the 2001, 2006 and 2007 awards. I even saw four of 2006’s in the cinema (gasp!) When I finally get round to watching my DVD of Juno, 2008 will join that list (if anyone happens to be wondering why reviews of There Will Be Blood and No Country For Old Men are now over a year late… well, that’s why).
There are, in total, 14 nominees I’ve not seen — including two winners. Neither A Beautiful Mind nor Million Dollar Baby have inspired me enough to go out of my way to see them, particularly as the former especially seems to get lumped in with the likes of Shakespeare in Love in the annals of less-than-deserving winners. Hey, Eastwood’s effort is on TV this week — twice on the same night, even — so maybe I’ll finally sit down with it.
There we have it, then. As a ‘Film Fan’ it feels somehow wrong not to have seen all of the films considered to be The Very Best Of That Year at the highest-profile, most-prestigious (theoretically) film awards do. But — as that “(theoretically)” shows and as we all really know — the Oscars are far from the be-all-and-end-all of what are genuinely the best films of any given year (though I’m sure there must be some where they actually got it right). Besides, it’s all a matter of opinion anyway, making any such list wholly arbitrary.
Still, I do like a good list, and this one has 14 more things to tick off it. Maybe I’ll have got there by 2020…
I realised I should probably have stated all 14 (look, you can see me realise it in the comments!), so here they are:
2000: The Cider House Rules, The Insider. 2002: A Beautiful Mind, In the Bedroom. 2003: The Hours, The Pianist. 2004: Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, Seabiscuit. 2005: Million Dollar Baby. 2008: Juno. 2009: Frost/Nixon, Milk, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, The Reader.
And I have three of them on DVD too…
#10: Ernst Lubitsch in Berlin: From Schönhauser Allee to Hollywood (2006) January 30, 2010
Posted by badblokebob in : Documentary, Ernst Lubitsch, 2000s, 3 stars, world cinema, films about films, silent films, Biography, 2010 , add a comment
Part biography, part making-of, part analytical retrospective, Robert Fischer’s documentary does what it says on the tin: tells the story of the life and work of actor/director Ernst Lubitsch from his formative years, living on Schönhauser Allee in Berlin, to when he made the move to America in the early 1920s.
Fischer devotes a large amount of time to Lubitsch’s early years — the life he had growing up, his years as a stage actor, and how he eventually shifted into becoming a film actor — attempting not only to tell the story of his upbringing, but to draw (or leave the viewer to draw) parallels with the films Lubitsch would go on to make. A use of ‘family history’ first- and second-hand accounts and analysis from authors, critics and admirers strikes a moderate balance here, though those primarily interested in his eventual film work may find it goes on a bit too long.
A lot is also made of (or, at least, implied about) Max Reinhardt’s influence on a young Lubitsch. The film implies Reinhardt had a greater significance generally, but lacks any context about why he was such a momentous figure. In fairness the film isn’t about him, but one feels a minute or two clarifying his importance may have been warranted.
When Lubitsch’s directing career is eventually arrived upon, Fischer uses the same mix of talking heads to cover both the behind-the-scenes story of Lubitsch’s career, spanning a half-dozen or so of his more significant German works, and provide a brief analysis of how they foreshadowed (or didn’t) his future career and what they might reveal about the man and his methods. With such a broad overview no one films is covered in particularly great depth, despite the feature-length running time, though recollections from actors Emil Jannings and Henny Porten provide some film-specific focus.
Illustrated with copious clips and photographs from Lubitsch’s work, the documentary incidentally instills a desire to see more of the director’s early work. Tantalising glimpses of and stories about films such as The Eyes of the Mummy Ma, Carmen, Madame DuBarry, Kohlhiesel’s Daughter and The Loves of Pharaoh all leave one longing they were included in the box set too — though considering the six films already allotted, it’s hardly an oversight that there aren’t even more. As IMDb/Wikipedia seem to suggest none of these are lost, perhaps there’s space for a Volume Two?
Given that I found the documentary interesting, the following score might seem a tad low. Judged in the world of DVD extras, Ernst Lubitsch in Berlin would likely fare better; bumping it up to the world of ‘Proper Films’, however, reduces that somewhat. As much as anything, while I’m sure it’s of interest to the already interested, it’s not compelling enough to warrant viewing by anyone else.
#9: Die Bergkatze (1921)
Posted by badblokebob in : Comedy, Romance, Ernst Lubitsch, 4 stars, 1920s, world cinema, silent films, 2010 , add a comment
Die Bergkatze apparently rounds off Masters of Cinema’s Lubitsch in Berlin box set with appropriate heft: as the blurb asserts, this was “Lubitsch’s personal favourite work of all his German films, [it] represents a peak in both Lubitsch’s silent oeuvre and the silent cinema as a whole.” I wasn’t quite so enamoured with it.
Which, again, isn’t to say it’s bad. The setup takes some time to build up speed, but when it does the gags begin to flow more readily, even if it degenerates to a more stop-start pattern later on. But scenes like the Lieutenant leaving town to an army of toddlers crying “Adios, daddy!” are on the one hand simple but on the other inspired; the first battle sequence is full of marvelously surreal touches, like the robber-leader making coffee to be drunk mid-shoot-out; and the satire on the military (always welcome) is pleasantly thorough, taking pot-shots at numerous elements rather than picking one trait and exhausting it.
Lubitsch once again flips the roles of the sexes: the Lieutenant preens and prunes, spending ages tweaking his hair and clothes in the mirror, and one of the gang of robbers lies on a bed literally crying a river over his lost love; the titular robber’s daughter, however, leads a gang of men in thieving and fighting, living wild, free, and rather dirty, among them. A desired-by-all woman (Pola Negri, successfully branching out from into comedy) and at least one mass of man-desiring women help round out a succession of familiar Lubitsch elements. Familiarity may be said to breed contempt, but Lubitsch’s reworking of similar sequences is more a recognisable touchstone than irritating repetition.
Location filming in snow-covered Alps adds a scale and breadth to the film’s imagined-kingdom setting that would be inimitable in a studio. Perhaps art director Ernst Stern was right that the realism of using genuine locations doesn’t quite sit with the highly stylised fort; on the other hand, a studio set simply wouldn’t have the same effect: this isn’t the card-and-wood world of Die Puppe, where clearly fake trees and horses were all part of the illusion. Instead of seeming fake, then, the contrast of a hyper-real fort and genuine-but-exotic locations creates the sense of a proper fantastical realm rather than some fictional stage set. Stern’s design for the fort is beautiful, from the overall look to specific features in each room. It’s scale is quite astonishing, particularly considering it was built on location in the Alps.
Lubitsch’s love of camera mattes, seen with increasing frequency throughout Die Puppe, Die Austernprinzessin and, particularly, Anna Boleyn, is finally allowed free reign here, with shots that conform to the standard 4:3 frame seeming to be the irregularity amongst an unimaginable array of shapes and angles. At times it’s distracting, particularly at the start, but that’s more because it’s a technique we’re now almost entirely unused to rather than any flaw in Lubitsch’s application of it. That said, though he often uses the mattes to enhance or emphasise composition, or suggest something about a character or location, it’s not always clear why he’s choosing to vary the frame so much — other than the sheer fun of it, which, particularly in a comedy, may be reason enough.
Die Bergkatze was a flop on its release in Germany and consequently never distributed elsewhere. Maybe it was, as Lubitsch thought, an unwillingness on the part of German people to have the military satirised; maybe it was the extreme use of unusual framing techniques that left them cold; maybe they just didn’t like it. Though it’s far from my favourite film in the set, it didn’t and doesn’t deserve to be dismissed.