#86: Snake Eyes (1998) August 24, 2010
Posted by badblokebob in : Thriller, Crime, 4 stars, 1990s, Mystery, 2010, Film Noir: Pre/Post/Neo/etc. , add a comment
Kick-Ass, Knowing, National Treasure 2, Matchstick Men, now Snake Eyes — I feel like I’m seeing a lot of Nicolas Cage of late. (To be precise, it’s five films in as many months.) It’s not a conspiracy, I assure you, just an almighty coincidence.
Unlike in Snake Eyes, in which it’s no coincidence that a top boxer throws a fight seconds before the US Secretary of Defense is assassinated right behind dirty cop Rick Santoro (Cage), all in a lovely 12-minute opening take. And there’s plenty more to it than that, but I wanted the sentence to be halfway legible. Who did it? Why? How’s it all connected? Who’s involved? Such are the questions to be answered in the ensuing near-real-time neo-noir.
Let’s start with the opening take. It’s a fake (there are eight cuts), which is pretty obvious, but it’s still a nifty way of starting the film. As well as being the kind of thing I always like to see, it sets up nearly everything we need to know for the rest of the film. Almost every element of the conspiracy is tucked away in there somewhere, from the blatantly obvious to the tiniest detail we won’t even notice. It’s just one of many long takes director Brian De Palma deploys throughout the film, including one that sails over various hotel rooms for no reason other than it looks pretty cool. Which is fine — there’s nothing wrong with looking cool, especially in a crime thriller film set in an Atlantic City casino.
Another thing I always like is real-time. I don’t know why, but there’s something pleasing about a story that unfurls in exactly the time it takes to tell it, that doesn’t skip over characters getting places or cheat our sense of relative time for a nifty editing-based twist 
(which I’m not saying can work — just look at Silence of the Lambs — but there’s also a skill in avoiding it). Perhaps there’s just a thrill in the logistical challenge of making the concept — which is highly unnatural to film and TV — work. The first season of 24 paid much attention to it, to good effect; later seasons didn’t and, in my opinion, suffered. Johnny Depp-starer Nick of Time also used it, though I can’t remember much about that except it was total rubbish. Snake Eyes doesn’t stick to its real-time as rigidly as 24, but it was good enough to satiate me. By the time it begins to deviate significantly from the concept, the story’s got so involving that it no longer matters.
And another thing I always like is a bit of noir. Snake Eyes fits the bill, with ‘heroic’ characters of questionable morality, voluptuous femme fatales, vicious villains, double dealings, punch-ups in shadowy alleys, and dozens of other generic signifiers that I’ll leave it for you to discover and/or remember. I was rather surprised to discover it wasn’t on Wikipedia’s era-encompassing list of film noir (until I added it): I’m not always that good at identifying what counts as post/neo-noir (one might ask “who is?” considering the genre’s broad/non-existent definition), but I’d say Snake Eyes is pretty much undoubtable in its noir-ness.
Based on IMDb scores and Rotten Tomatoes ratings and whatnot, it seems Snake Eyes isn’t very well regarded. Honestly, I’m not sure why. Perhaps it’s too stylised for some tastes — not everyone will like the long takes, the flashbacks, the point-of-view shots, the split screen, or Cage’s usual OTT performance — but I enjoy all of these things when used well, and here they are. Cage, for instance, isn’t permanently OTT, finding the character’s more realistic side when called upon; his style doesn’t always work, this is certainly true, but here it’s a match.
If there’s one significant flaw, it’s that the ending is too much based on convenience and coincidence; and someone in the editing room should’ve paid more attention to removing all references to the original, deleted ending in which the casino got flooded. I have no idea why that was removed — maybe someone thought it was a bit ludicrous. But it sounds more satisfying than what was included, which, as noted,
relies on a handy spot of coincidence and at least one action that seems out of character. I can forgive it though, because I liked everything else. And the post-climax montage is a suitably downbeat ending to our hero’s story — another noir trait there.
Snake Eyes certainly isn’t perfect — as well as the above, I’m sure some take issue with its occasionally implausible conspiracy plotting — but if one accepts that it’s set in a slightly more noir-ish world than our own, and that half the fun is to be had from De Palma’s visual trickery, I think there’s a lot to like. And like it I did.
#62: True Lies (1994) August 12, 2010
Posted by badblokebob in : Comedy, Action, Thriller, 4 stars, 1990s, 2010 , 2 comments
Quite how I’ve not got round to seeing True Lies until now is a little beyond me. Perhaps — no, definitely — if they’d re-released a better edition on DVD I’d've bought it and seen it then; but they never did, and so it’s taken ’til now to reach the top of my rental queue (not that my rental service works that way) and ‘force my hand’, as it were (because it’s certainly been on TV enough over the years).
True Lies is unusual on director James Cameron’s CV — though not, as things turned out, on Arnold Schwarzenegger’s — in that it’s a funny, daft comedy, a spoof of other action films. Where it differs from most spoofs is that it’s also a proper action movie. Most action-comedies can’t manage the former because they’re classed as the latter, with the limiting cast and budget to match, but Cameron’s background means he can put all the thrills, explosions and effects of an action movie into a comedy/spoof plot. Multiple boxes thoroughly ticked.
The comedy is quite broad — in particular, Tom Arnold is too OTT as Schwarzenegger’s sidekick — but it’s definitely a comedy, as opposed to an action movie that’s aware it’s a bit silly. Situations are pushed to extremes, clichés are played up, things go wrong in a way they’re liable to in real life but rarely do in films, action sequences are played for laughs as well as genuine excitement… The advantage to Cameron is he’s allowed to do some 
audacious things that might get laughed out in a straight actioner. The demise of the villain, for instance, is a great idea and great fun, but would be a step too far normally; but here that’s OK, because it’s allowed to be funny as well as cool.
Things go on a bit long in the middle, perhaps, when it gets bogged down in Harry dealing with his marital issues. But it’s a James Cameron film, of course it’s long in the middle. That said, it doesn’t feel like a James Cameron film — it’s far too funny. OK, sometimes it’s trying too hard to be funny rather than actually being funny, but a comedy is not what you expect from the rest of Cameron’s filmography, and it doesn’t feel distinctly ‘A James Cameron Film’ in the way that his Terminators, Aliens, Avatar, or even Titanic, do.
Other flaws emerge thanks to the film’s age. All the computer stuff feels a little dated now, but then that’s life (or rather, technology). It places the film firmly in that era of technological-ish thrillers that seemed to emerge as home computing was becoming more common, which makes the naïve computer sections actually a little nostalgic. Less forgivable are some really obvious stuntmen who stand in for Schwarzenegger. I don’t know if stunt people have always appeared so blatant — perhaps we’re just spoilt by the recent trend for actors
to do everything themselves (and even if they don’t their face gets CG’d on).
True Lies isn’t perfect then, but the humour is funny enough and the action plenty exciting, particularly the famous Harrier Jump Jet-based finale. You can’t ask for more than that. Well, you can, but this’ll do.
#64: Mulan (1998) July 28, 2010
Posted by badblokebob in : Animation, Disney, War, adaptations, 4 stars, 1990s, Adventure, Historical, 2010 , add a comment
I realised recently that I haven’t seen an animated Disney film produced after The Hunchback of Notre Dame, which I saw on rented video thinking I was probably getting too old for Disney. Now I’ve grown up, of course, I know you’re never too old for a good Disney. As Mulan seems to be one of the last Disneys to gather significant praise before they slipped into their ’00s rut, it seemed a good place to begin caching up on what I’d missed.
It’s easy to see what critics and/or audiences liked about Mulan. There’s a few good, catchy songs — though sadly no villain’s song, which is usually one of the highlights — and some lovely animation — though I feel it’s been rather outshone by the similarly-styled Kung Fu Panda in this regard. There are decent action sequences too, fast-paced and fluidly animated, which helps make what could’ve been a Girly Film into something palatable to both genders (I remember being distinctly unimpressed with Pocahontas when forced to see it in the cinema).
The other thing that stands out about Mulan, particularly now, is how very Americanised it is. That’s nothing new for Disney, of course, but it feels a little odd these days. When we’re so used to increased attempts at appropriate cultural reverence from Hollywood movies, it’s almost uncomfortable to hear such American accents from clearly Chinese characters. 
(It’s this kind of thing that has caused uproar for The Last Airbender in the US (quite aside from it supposedly being a load of cobblers). How times change.) Eddie Murphy’s Mushu (who now comes across a little like a proto-Donkey) is particularly incongruous in this regard. I suppose it’s no worse than, say, Aladdin, or The Jungle Book, or all the Euro-set films.
With a ‘princess’ overcoming her assigned place, a pair of cute/humorous animal sidekicks, a princely husband-to-be, and a vicious villain in need of defeating, the tale of Mulan has certainly been adapted into the Disney mould. It may not be their best effort, but it’s still a strong one.
#52: Insomnia (1997) July 7, 2010
Posted by badblokebob in : Thriller, Crime, 4 stars, 1990s, world cinema, 2010 , add a comment
It’s generally taken as a rule that an original film is better than the remake, particularly so if that original is in a language other than English and the remake is American. But there’ll always be something to buck the trend, and in my view that’s Insomnia.
Watching this Norwegian original after having seen Christopher Nolan’s American version, it feels like someone watched the remake then was asked to retell it: it hits most of the main plot beats and memorable sequences, but seems to gloss past the nuances and character. On the bright side (perhaps) this makes it more efficient in its storytelling than the Hillary Seitz-penned US version. And about 20 minutes shorter.
Conversely, one might argue it’s subtler. Less time is spent directly delving into the characters, especially Jon Holt (Robin Williams in the remake), but there’s still stuff there to extrapolate from. Nolan’s version, on the other hand, makes it more explicit, including scenes and sequences that actually develop and reveal characters rather than leaving it purely as something that may be inferred if the viewer wishes.
The titular condition suffered by Stellen Skarsgard’s detective (Al Pacino in the remake) feels more present here. The remake lifted some elements of it, but I remember being surprised how little his lack of sleep had to do with anything. Here, there are several scenes of Skarsgard struggling to sleep, he’s visibly rougher as the film progresses, and it seems to impact his 
judgement and sense of what’s going on more than in Nolan’s film. If the other character elements are apparently less developed, this is something the original does better.
I’ve given both versions the same score; perhaps generously, because I think the remake comes out of things better. The original undoubtedly has that European indie aesthetic (not to mention subtitles, and that it’s The Original) that will always endear it more to some. As a remarkably faithful remake, the US version clearly owes this a lot, but the depth of character and more overt complexity of morals added by Nolan and Seitz gives it the edge for me.
#35: Titanic (1997) May 14, 2010
Posted by badblokebob in : Drama, Romance, 4 stars, 1990s, true stories, 2010 , add a comment
Before Avatar came along and ruined everything — um, I mean, dominated both the box office and James Cameron’s career — the director seemed to have become best-known for his previous record-breaking box-office-topper, Titanic. And because he was so well known for it, it’s easy to forget that it stands out like a sore thumb in his filmography: previously he’d only been responsible for action and/or sci-fi films: The Terminator, T2, Aliens, The Abyss and True Lies. And, lest we forget, Piranha 2. And since it his only fiction film is Avatar, which you may remember — a little film about some blue aliens on a moon.
So, despite Titanic’s slightly-ironic runaway success (considering the fate of the titular vessel), one still has every reason to question if Cameron can handle a straight-up drama. After all, dialogue and character are hardly his strong points, and box office success and Oscar victory are hardly reasons to suppose a film is any good.
The first thing one can note about Titanic is that it’s over-reaching itself size-wise. This is true of both craft and film, one being too big to dodge an iceberg, the other simply too long. I can’t be certain, but it feels like the entire film following the iceberg’s arrival is in real-time, which would make the length an excusable narrative trick — I do like real-time — were it not for Cameron padding it out with endless contrivances to have Jack and Rose running around the ship. All of these sequences are suitably exciting in themselves, but there’s so many of them that they become dully repetitive.
But before the good bit — giant boat sinking! Yay! — there’s the Jack-Rose romance, clearly the main draw for many fans. I can’t help feeling they need to be shown some better films.
It’s not quite as weak as George Lucas’ efforts in Attack of the Clones, but it’s not far off. The scene the day after Jack saves Rose — where they have a natter on deck and she looks at his art for the first time; aka the primary scene for their falling for each other — is particularly weakly written. “Oh Jack, the plot requires me to look at your drawings now, so please hand them over.” The dialogue’s not actually that bad, but it’s bloody close.
The film really takes off with the iceberg. While my criticism still stands that it goes on too long from this point (just as it does before it, mind), the post-impact scenes are by far the most exciting and engaging sequences in the film. The predictable romantic plot may keep Leo’s fans flocking back, but the horrendous spectacle of the sinking ship — both visually in an array of epic wide shots, and emotionally in the various and changing ways the passengers and crew react — is the film’s real triumph, a reason for the rest of us to even consider revisiting it.
Even if spectacle is the real star, there are some actors too. Kate Winslet does fine work with a character who could just be (and occasionally is) a cliché. As the same character 85 years later, Gloria Stuart gives an even better, emotionally resonant performance. Billy Zane and David Warner are perfectly dastardly villains, Bernard Hill practices the stoic leader he would later perfect in
The Lord of the Rings, and Kathy Bates provides some intermittent comic relief.
And Leo is pretty-boy Leo. I’m not saying he’s not a talented actor — that was something he’d shown before Titanic and has certainly proven since, though everyone seemed to forget it in the late ’90s — but Jack Dawson is hardly a tricky task for him. Clearly he looks beautiful, has the loveable rogue thing down, and that’s job done.
Russell Carpenter’s cinematography is always up to the task with a nice degree of diversity, from Michael Bay-style tech-fetish crispness in the present-day bookends to a warm glow for the past of Rose’s memory, with an icy collision of the two as disaster strikes. On a similar note, the CGI has aged surprisingly well… provided you don’t look too closely, at least. And I do mean “surprisingly” in the most literal sense, because I expected it to look awful. I swear it did last time I saw a clip. Anyway…
None of this can be said for James Horner’s irritating score. While not as bad as the batter-you-round-the-head signposting of his work on Avatar, it has a similar sense of obviousness. His frequent use of motifs from Celine Dion’s irritating My Heart Will Go On is always unwelcome, and (for me) always drags French and Saunders into the equation — “my heart will go ooooooooon” and all that.
Indeed, Titanic’s literally phenomenal success, and the subsequent abundance of spoofs and homages across all media in the decade-and-a-bit since,
is an obstacle for any new viewer. One can’t watch Jack declare “I’m the king of the world!” without thinking of Cameron’s much-derided Oscar speech; can’t watch Jack and Rose ‘flying’ without thinking of any number of piss-takes; and French and Saunders spring to mind quite all over the place.
And yet, despite all this criticism, I found myself quite liking Titanic. I didn’t expect to, which is why I’ve avoided it for so long. I could take or leave the romance — could take it better if they’d gotten someone in to polish the script — and while they were at it they could’ve trimmed the second half’s repetition — but, all things considered, there’s enough spectacle to keep one engrossed.
Over-long and based on spectacle over content? Reminds me of this little film about some blue aliens on a moon…
#15: What About Bob? (1991) March 16, 2010
Posted by badblokebob in : Comedy, 4 stars, 1990s, 2010 , add a comment
What About Bob is a comedy about mental health. As such, it feels primed for misunderstanding and inappropriateness. And it is indeed a little worrying early on: Bill Murray’s performance is, from the off, superbly believable, but it’s undercut by bad ‘this is a comedy’ music that suggests we’re meant to laugh at his impairments rather than feel sympathy. And maybe that’s what the screenplay, direction and performance were actually aiming at, but, personally, I don’t find laughing at the mentally disabled all that funny, even in a film nearly 20 years old. Again, people clap as Bob gets off a bus he struggled to even get on: again, perhaps this is meant to indicate “thank God he got off!”, but I choose to take it as them celebrating his achievement, because, if not, it’s just attacking the disabled again.
Fortunately, after these troubling moments in the film’s early minutes, the tone becomes more settled. Once Bob’s made it to New Hampshire, inappropriately on the trail of his new therapist Dr Leo Marvin (Richard Dreyfuss), and begins to get to know Dr Marvin’s family, the film really lifts off. From here out we get a nice array of, essentially, related sketches. That does them something of a disservice: each is linked and build in a well-structured fashion as Bob finds himself accepted as part of Dr Marvin’s all-important family, leading to the turning point of a Good Morning America interview, where love for Bob spreads out into (to all intents and purposes) the whole world; and then Dr Marvin’s last potential safe haven of sanity, his fellow therapists, are won round too.
The film hinges entirely on Murray and Dreyfuss, and both are excellent in their respective roles. Murray portrays Bob’s mental health struggles early on in a way that would garner wider praise for accuracy if this were a drama, showing the potential he’s only unleashed in more recent years to play straight roles. But he’s equally good as the film becomes a clear-cut comedy: Bob doesn’t suddenly become a caricature, but is revealed as a good-natured, child-like, fun-loving person who, perhaps, just needs some care and love from others to help his conditions. Dreyfuss, meanwhile, is slickly believable as the uncaring fame-minded therapist, whose true nature — and problems — begin to unravel the more he’s confronted with Bob.
What we see here is that the apparently-afflicted patient is actually in a pretty good place (almost), while the apparently-perfect doctor is actually on the verge of a complete collapse (which, of course, he ultimately has). If it feels a little like a stereotyped plot arc, I’m not entirely certain why; and What About Bob? plays it out with enough truthfulness and humour to make it entirely palatable.
Believe it or not, some side with the psychotherapist, viewing Bob as a damnable annoyance that no one but Dr Marvin can see. It’s an interesting way to view the film, certainly, 
but I suspect whether you ’side’ with Bob or Dr Marvin says more about you as a person than it does about the film, the characters or the performances. It seems starkly obvious to me that Bob is the ‘good guy’, a nice but troubled chap who just wants to get by and have a good time, while Dr Marvin is a control freak with a raft of suppressed problems that are gradually unveiled throughout the film until they ultimately overwhelm him. He’s not a bad chap per se, but he is in the wrong.
What About Bob? seems to have been forgotten — I’d never even heard of it until it was on TV at the tail end of last year — but that’s unfair. I can only assume it stems from those people who seem to have misinterpreted it, because such a misinterpretation must make it quite an awkward experience. Seen correctly, however, What About Bob? is a funny, heartening, feel-good comedy that deserves to be better remembered.
#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.