Posts Tagged ‘cuties’

Super 8

Super 8

Sunday, August 7th, 2011

I wanna start this review with a sort of morbid thought that occurred to me while watching this movie. Much has been said of the Spielberg influence here: there are elements of films he directed and produced here, and he himself is in the producer’s chair. What this knowledge sort of spoils for me is not knowing how much additional influence Spielberg exercised onset. Super 8 is a movie that has been talked about (at least it seems so) for many years now. The morbid thought that occurred to me is, how much better if this movie – like Stanley Kubrick’s Artificial Intelligence, ultimately made by Spielberg – had languished in development hell that much longer and only been rushed into production in the event of its inspiration’s passing? (hopefully, I stress, many years from now…) There is even a strong underlying message in the movie about letting go of the departed – profoundly if heavy-handedly (but that’s how I like my emotion) illustrated in the very last scene. Anyway, as I said, just a thought that occurred to me.

I never know how vague or full I’m going to be about plot details when I start writing a review so I should warn now, there may be spoilers. I was lucky enough to avoid just about any details about this movie before seeing it and I’m glad I did, so I’d strongly advise not reading any reviews, mine included, until you’ve seen it. If you need a short review: trust me, it’s worth seeing.

At its heart, as already mentioned, this movie exists as a nostalgic trip. As such, its biggest star is arguably its production design, which to my eye seemed flawless, even dizzying in places as I grew up in the time (if not the place) the story takes place. I always used to say when it came to period movies that I preferred the older ones, in particular those of the 1970s, as they always seemed to have a hazy look to them that added to the experience; as time moved on film production techniques got too clean and slick leading to inappropriately clean and slick historical visions. We’re fortunate today to have moved past this hurdle and – as seems to have been done here – digital technology in addition to increased access to reference materials (and, in this case of course, a more recent past) can be used to give the film the appropriate look …to the degree where really only prior knowledge of the actors and the quality of the visual effects give any hint at all that the movie wasn’t made in the late 70s or early 1980s. I spent at least the first half hour just smiling at how much it truly felt like a movie from my childhood that I’d somehow missed – the kids, of whom only Elle Fanning was I sure I’d enjoy watching, are without exception wonderful.

If I recall correctly, one of the massive things related to this movie I successfully avoided prior to seeing it was the train crash scene, most of which I believe was released on the internet a while ago. This might seem like a great triumph of the will for a self-professed movie fan but consider that I still rarely listen to singles, even from my most favourite artists, preferring to wait to hear them in the context of the full album they appear on. I’m strange that way.

Anyway, the train crash is as phenomenal as I’d heard. It’s a long time since an action sequence has made me physically gasp the way this one did.

There was, I won’t deny, a short period somewhere in the middle act where the movie slightly lost my rapt attention – perhaps, now I think about it, when the modern visual effects broke the otherwise authentic feel of the movie (notwithstanding the crash, I guess) – and I feared the movie would struggle to pull me back to the transfixed state it got me in initially. Luckily, the movie has two enormous, connected emotionally punches up its sleeve – one scene featuring Elle Fanning (who, I’ll say again, continues to completely walk all over her older sister making far more interesting choices than any Dakota has made in years) and a revelation about the tension between her father and the father of the young protagonist in front of a super-8 projection of his home movies; and the climax, so beautifully resolving this tension, which is threaded throughout and reflected in the overarching universal plot (“Bad things happen: but you can still live…”), it simply knocked me down emotionally. Truly, that moment – the “letting go” is all I’ll say – is as simple and powerful as anything in Spielberg’s old classics. This movie utterly achieves what it sets out to do, and then some.

Stick around in the end credits for a wonderful treat, by the way; I hope there’s more of that when the movie hits blu-ray.



The Beaver

The Beaver

Wednesday, June 29th, 2011

“I’m sick.”
“Yeh, but the question is: do you wanna get better?”

From Jerry Maguire’s breakdown-turned-success through the double whammy of American Beauty and Fight Club in 1999 – both of which made almost irresistible the notion of self-destruction as a way to truly live – to the wonderful scene in The Hours where Julianne Moore’s character explains away the seemingly inhuman decision to desert her family with the line, “It was death. I chose life,” and the most recent cut-throat, “If you guys were the inventors of Facebook, you would have invented Facebook,” of The Social Network, something of an attitude has been rising in the most daring of 90s/00s Hollywood output which I’ll admit I was quite taken with at first as a young 20-something but am not too stupid to have been slightly wary of for quite a long time.

There’s a clue in the opening titles of The Beaver that hints slightly at where it will ultimately side on the profoundly pertinent ideas it sets out through the course of its overwhelmingly unique story. The letters of the production companies and the title (I don’t think any of the cast or crew’s names are shown in these opening credits) fade in on the screen and then fade out, leaving one or two letters behind that appear in the subsequent title. I mightn’t have noticed and mightn’t even be writing about it here were it not repeated during the end credits where its connection to the overarching message here really leapt at me.

I admit however with great pleasure, midway through The Beaver, I was blissfully unaware of where it was headed; of what, indeed, it was “really” trying to say – because it says everything that it says (and it says a lot) so overpoweringly well. I have heard about this movie it seems for years initially as a screenplay that everyone in Hollywood thought was brilliant but that nobody in Hollywood would ever make. With Jodie Foster’s involvement, my interest was truly hooked, especially with her not only starring but directing. On the strength of Home for the Holidays alone she became one of my favourite film makers and I’ve been desperate for her to return behind the camera ever since. I saw one of the more “serious” clips from the movie recently when Foster was on a chat show, and that was when I realised I didn’t just want to see this movie, I had to. Let me just say, I still didn’t know how badly I needed it.

You’ll know the story from the trailer – Mel Gibson plays (brilliantly) Walter, a man at the end of his rope (“His depression is an ink that stains all who touch him. A black hole that swallows all who get near,”) who is “rescued” by a personality he creates in the form of a beaver hand puppet (“You want things to change – really change… forget about home improvement… you have to blow up the whole goddamned building.”).

Even if you sense the darkness inherent in this set-up, I suspect nothing will prepare you for just how seriously screenwriter Kyle Killen and director Foster take this story. There are a few laughs along the way, but they’re either the plain uncomfortable kind or just fleetingly inevitable touches. No farting aunt Gladys here (see Home for the Holidays). Actually, Killen himself puts it best in a sliver of action in an early draft of his screenplay I read before finishing this review, in a late scene as Walter actually fights his own hand:

“If this plays with any humor at the start it very quickly disappears. This isn’t Liar Liar. Walter is truly self destructive and the damage he does is real.”

This could easily apply to the whole tone of the movie, which Foster (I might say this more than once) handles impeccably.

The Beaver himself (called, simply, The Beaver) is the most difficult character here. He is ultimately that perfect villain to me. I like to talk about two particular villains of the past 10 years when I encounter characters as unsettling as this – Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader in Revenge of the Sith and Agent Smith in The Matrix Revolutions. Both these movies left me with a very strange feeling – that these manifestations of evil kinda made too good of a point. You’ll either know what I mean or not there (I might explain it better in those reviews so click on through and come back, I’ll be waiting). The Beaver is such a character. “Eventually, what seemed strange becomes common. What seemed impossible becomes real,” he explains in voiceover at one stage, as, against all odds, for a short time at least, people really kind of accept The Beaver. He’s very persuasive. But he goes too far.

(Yes, I am talking about a hand puppet who you can clearly see Gibson providing the voice for as if he’s a separate entity – believe me, if this movie touches you like it did me… it’s really hard not to…)

I read an interview with Jodie Foster recently in Total Film which, again, should maybe have tipped me off about just how off the wall this movie was gonna be. In one answer, she talked about the “revolution” that’s going on in cinema with digital distribution in such a way that frankly reminded me of Kevin Smith‘s recent bridge-burning attitude with Red State, “Indie Film 2.0” as he calls it. There’s a sequence here where The Beaver takes over Walter’s toy company and leads it seemingly to massive success by risking everything on a single new product. In a voiceover, he makes the kind of point many such as Smith have been making recently:

“Do we want to continue [doing whatever it takes to survive], or do we break with the past and embrace something new, something different, something better?”

It was at this stage when I realised I truly had no idea where the movie was headed. It’s followed by a heartbreakingly complex scene in which the newly successful Walter is interviewed on The Today Show and delivers a monologue with all his family watching. This single scene simultaneously makes the notion that Walter embraces – that notion of those other movies I mentioned at the beginning here… to dump your baggage if it’s what it takes to survive and pursue that higher dream – seem like a perfectly admirable goal (“We start to see who we are as a box that we’re trapped inside, and however we try to escape; resolutions, therapy, drugs, classes, it simply reels us back in. And I believe the only way to truly break out is to get rid of that box all together.”); yet also asks the question this movie really wants to ask… how does this approach to life affect our humanity? How can we abandon those who we’ve invested so much love, time, energy in… our family, our friends… no matter what they’ve done? It’s this, I think, that makes The Beaver so arrestingly timely, in such a hollow, emotionless age as this, despite its interminable development time. It’s what the style of those credits is saying: we are all connected to someone, perhaps more than one someone, somehow; whether we like it or not.

The screenplay is every bit as flawless as its reputation – as I said I’ve read an early draft before polishing this review just to remember some lines (so, incidentally, some of them might be slightly off the way the ended up on screen) and it really is just astonishingly tight – there’s a whole subplot involving Walter’s son that reflects and enforces the main story with its ideas of identity (Walter’s son fears he’s becoming like his father – he makes lists of the similarities – his only skill in life seems to be pretending to be other people, a skill he harnesses at school charging fellow students to write their papers for them), chasing a self-annihilating dream (he gets to know a school cheerleader in order to write her graduation speech for her – only to find the “real her” that she’s buried under the veneer of academic popularity and success), and the ultimate need to put a stop to the bullshit (in an even further level of connection: the way in which his son intends to shake the similarities? Visiting the places where “things really changed” – the assassination spot of Martin Luther King, eg… I damn near lost it when he explained this, so closely does it echo recent thoughts I’ve had of such instances of, as I call it, “Futricide”). It ties together so beautifully I can’t wait to see how well this movie stands up to multiple repeat viewings.

I’ve talked about Jodie Foster’s film making skill but not her acting yet. Do I even need to say how great she is? I think I do. I’m a huge Jodie Foster fan, and I truly thought I’d seen the best of her by now. But I can think of just one moment here where she killed me all over again, in the kitchen when she and Walter’s eldest son comes home and sees The Beaver for the first time. “Have you completely lost your mind? …It takes you years to finally get rid of him and you let him come back the next night with a talking puppet?” he yells at her. Her face is a work of art in response, the depth so indescribable. That’s just one moment of a performance that is as consistently gripping as the whole movie. Jennifer Lawrence and the rest of the cast are just as worthy of praise. (If you haven’t noticed yet… god, did I love this movie…)

I agree for the most part with those whose only criticism of the movie is its disjointedness, or at least see where they’re coming from – in that subplot, sure, if you don’t immediately recognise the connections, but most jarringly perhaps with Walter’s final solution to his problem. But I’d argue I guess that the flaws (if they’re flaws) only serve to make the whole thing even more human. I can honestly say that no other movie this year (nor indeed, in a long time) has made me feel so emotionally alive as The Beaver did for every single one of its admirably short 90 minutes, and that’s why I love movies in the first place.

On a side note I’d like to add a somewhat random note on another way I connected to this movie. I’ve had a Second Life avatar for 5 years, and though it’s hard to explain in brief, I recognised a lot here as pertains to creating a kind of alter-ego that is in some ways the best of oneself but kind of takes on a life of its own… mostly for the better but I’ll admit, even in my case, I’ve had my share of the worst – and I’ve even had to come to that dilemma of coming 100% clean or “blowing up the goddamned building”. As I explained above, this movie goes to a dark place in the end, but I think it’s interesting that anybody watching it will find a different place at which they feel Walter’s self-therapy goes “too far” and I won’t say where that is for me (hopefully you can make a good guess) but I will say it’s something we should all think about. There is a good to Walter’s madness and The Beaver’s idea here… it’s just a question of how far they lose themselves in it. Or, to go back to the movie that inspired the name of this site, and yet another that came to mind while watching this one, as is said in Girl, Interrupted and echoes the quote I opened with:

“Quis hic locus?, quae regio?, quae mundi plaga? What world is this?… What kingdom?… What shores of what world? It’s a very big question you’re faced with, Susanna. The choice of your life. How much will you indulge in your flaws? What are your flaws? Are they flaws?… If you embrace them, will you commit yourself to hospital?… for life?”



Hanna

Hanna

Tuesday, May 17th, 2011

“We have to have pieces of paper and computers so we don’t have to ask anybody’s name or look each other in the face…”

I first heard about this very shortly after I first saw the infamous redband trailer for Kick-Ass featuring Hit Girl’s most notorious line. I was already excited about the prospect of this tiny terror upsetting the morally self-righteous and couldn’t believe when I read some small snippet of text about Saoirse Ronan also working on a movie which at the time was titled “Hanna the Hitgirl”.

The important thing to note about Hanna is… the movies people are still mentioning as it being similar to – mostly the aforementioned Kick-Ass and Leon: The Professional (that one actually in one of the TV spots – Hanna described as a “modern” take on Luc Besson’s movie… way to make me feel old!) – are really false comparison points, as she’s neither a hit girl nor is this a love story or comic book. Even within Luc Besson’s filmography, actually the movie Hanna most resembles of his (and I didn’t make this connection till it was mentioned on the Slashfilm podcast) is The Fifth Element.

I don’t like the way the word “fairytale” has been thrown around to describe this movie either. It turns out it was director Joe Wright who started it, so who am I to argue I guess… but really aside from the “girl in the woods” opening and the set design of the finale all other comparisons (Cate Blanchett as a “wicked stepmother”, eg) seem really shoehorned in by the beholders who insist on “fairytale” as some kind of key to what the movie’s “about”.

The way I saw this story in the end is as a Frankenstein story. Hanna, it transpires, is essentially an engineered human being who deeply resents her inability to connect to the real world once she’s let loose upon it… and she ends up destroying her creators. On the way, she meets a travelling family which has been talked about a lot in other reviews. Mark Millar, creator of Kick-Ass, seems to have mistaken this family as the real heart of the movie as he tweeted it seemed to have been written by Guardian readers – but what they offer is a view of what Hanna will never really have even after the credits roll. It’s scattered through the script in (occasionally forced) exposition… she’s essentially afflicted with a kind of autism that “aids” her supersoldier body, she’s virtually incapable of the fundamental flaws that make the rest of us human. There’s a hollow sadness to this realisation that was only amplified for me by the fairly empty ending Wright gives us. (incidentally, isn’t it curious that this movie questions the morality of this engineered being’s upbringing more than those other two movies? I just stick that massive thought here ‘cos I couldn’t fit it anywhere else…)

Of Joe Wright’s previous work I’ve only seen the other that featured Saoirse Ronan, Atonement, which I hated on first seeing it but has grown on me to the point where, put simply, it blew me away when I saw it again I think some time last year. I imagine Hanna may grow on me in the same way, so considering how much I got out of it on this first viewing, I can’t wait to see how it reveals itself as time goes on. It’s so different from what I’d been led to expect that I wasn’t sure I’d post this review so soon – and even having written this much, I feel compelled to say it’s just the tip of the iceberg of the interpretations I’ll have of it in years to come. “Frankenstein with a Moroccan travelogue in the middle,” is just the closest I can come for now (I won’t even say “Girl Frankenstein”, by the way, because I really don’t think Hanna’s sex or gender is significant here due to her nature…). I haven’t even touched on the superb action set-pieces – the long-take subway fight and chase amidst the freight cars stand out – and the perfect Chemical Brothers score, slicker even than Daft Punk’s TRON score last year. I hope to see this again before the year is out, because it’s sure to deserve high ranking among this year’s movies once the dust has settled and I’ve made up my mind about it more.



Heartbreaker

Heartbreaker

Tuesday, May 17th, 2011

“Don’t be offended but you look like a bit of a…”
“…Dickhead.”
“…Exactly.”
“…I feel good with you too…”

I feel a little guilty for not watching this sooner… if you know me at all you should know by now I’m a devout Vanessa Paradis fan and will always watch anything she’s in eventually, but the marketing for this that I saw didn’t really make out her role to be much at all; made the movie out to be a romantic comedy of the likes that I frankly feared could even turn me off her; and the Facebook page was the worst offender, reaching out to Vanessa Paradis fans (who hadn’t yet “liked” the film’s page) with competitions aimed directly at (I can’t think of a better way of saying this; either you know me and it won’t matter or you don’t, in which case, trust me, I mean well) tragically girly girls… y’know, the kind that think no men are capable of liking a movie like this so don’t even give them a chance? (I point to one of the more recent posts on that page: “This movie comes out on DVD in the US, on my birthday!!! :) I have already alerted my husband…”) (ugh… and since I first drafted this review months ago, the wall is now full of promo for the William and Kate movie… who the f**k is running that sh*t?)

Then there was Mark Kermode’s review… he somehow between watching the movie and talking about it managed to turn it in his memory into a typically xenophobic “French man: romantic; Englishman: evil” tale which it simply isn’t. Andrew Lincoln is in no way made out here to be a bad guy… an infuriatingly good guy, sure, and simply not the right guy in the end. He plays Vanessa Paradis’ fiancé. Romain Duris plays a guy who splits couples up for a living. Don’t let that concept put you off though – like Léon in The Professional, this guy has rules. He only goes to work if the woman is truly unhappy. We can tell when we meet Paradis and Lincoln that she’s not necessarily unhappy, and he’s certainly not the monster we’ve seen Duris work on in the prologue (looking for cracks, at one point Duris is disguised as a homeless man, staking out the couple at a restaurant – Lincoln gets a doggie bag to take his food home in – “Aha! a Cheapskate!” Duris happily proclaims, before Lincoln brings the doggie bag out to give the homeless people…). He usually wouldn’t take this job. But it turns out he likes the girl and he needs the money.

This movie made me laugh tons more than I expected, in fact I feel pretty safe saying it’s the most unashamedly enjoyable movie of 2010. With the Vanessa and the story and the comedy, this movie was already good enough even before the Dirty Dancing stuff came in. At first it’s little nods (Vanessa’s character is a big fan of the movie, Duris tries to acquaint himself with it to win her over)… but it builds to a sequence where they really do the full “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” dance. This would’ve thrilled me any time, but I’ve been really quite particularly into that movie lately and I’m not ashamed to say that this moment I damn near wet my pants with glee. Of course, not everyone will have this response to the movie… but sometimes a movie just comes along where that kind of thing just doesn’t matter, and for me this was that movie.



Ruby Blue

Ruby Blue

Thursday, April 14th, 2011

[potential spoiler warning: this turned into one of my rare reviews where I talk a lot about the plot…]

There have been many movies made about relationships between older men and younger girls – going way back to the French Sundays & Cybele (and I’m sure even further back), through Digging to China, The Professional, to Lawn Dogs and of course the two adaptations of Lolita – and they’ve rarely been unworthy of note, so I’ve been meaning to watch this one – ostensibly about an elderly British man who befriends a little girl, ultimately to the suspicion of the neighbourhood – ever since I first heard about it. This is a subject that’s never not worth revisiting – because it’s a problem that not only won’t go away but seems to get ever worse. As far as I’m aware this is the first of these kinds of movies to be set in modern Britain, with positive intentions toward the subject matter – and that in itself for now actually makes it more pressing than any of the other titles previously mentioned.

The movie doesn’t rush into its story at all, feeling more like Gran Torino or, closer to home, Harry Brown, as it starts than any of those more romantic, poetic movies. Bob Hoskins plays what initially amounts to a grumpy old man who, as the movie opens, sees his wife die as an ambulance is too busy dealing with drunks in the city. Hoodies and youths seem to be on every corner and Hoskins doesn’t hold back from telling them what he thinks of their loitering, littering, etc. He keeps racing pigeons and it’s while he’s tending to them that 8 year old Florrie runs into his back garden.

It’s impressive how the movie builds to its drama from here. Nobody bats an eye at first at this old man looking after a little girl who only recently moved into the neighbourhood for an hour or two. Her mother actually directly invokes the P-word on their first meeting, joking, after he objects to being left with her (“I don’t know what to do with kids!” etc), “Oh come on, you’re not a peedie, are ya?” In this way the movie sort of serves as a microcosm of a much longer timescale, with this initial phase going back to the early 90s or even late 80s when people did trust more this way. I hope this doesn’t make me sound like I have a bleak view of the world – I’m sure there are still communities where every stranger (particularly of the male persuasion) isn’t regarded with suspicion, but they’re certainly few and far between… the picture painted later in the movie, something resembling Salem in the 1600s, feels much more familiar…

As Hoskins’ character lets himself go hygienically, devoid of wife (I won’t go off on one about this typically male portrayal; it’s believable in this case), another new neighbour, a French woman, begins to insinuate herself into his life, bringing him home-cooked food and company but really just desperate for the company herself. Hoskins befriends one of the neighbourhood teenagers, too, seeing a spark of humanity in the boy that he can nurture if only he can keep him away from his drunken friends. Soon his whole house and garden is buzzing with these disparate characters, a picture of community in action, prompting bewilderment from Hoskins estranged son – who knows him only as the grumpy recluse we first saw – when he pops home to collect the last of his things (wanting nothing more to do with his grumpy dad since mother died).

You can probably guess what happens from here – such happiness never holding up when strangers and children are involved. The P word begins to be uttered less jokingly and people start to believe what even characters on the sidelines imply. It’s finally when Florrie herself asks her mother what that word means, having heard it all over the shop, that even this rare, smart, parent – suddenly stricken with that awful fear face we see wherever there are mothers, children, and strange men – says, “I think I’ve been a very silly mummy…” I don’t think I’ve seen the power that word has in today’s society represented so perfectly as it is here. I didn’t mention Salem before to be funny – it does seem that once the P word is used to describe an already even slightly suspicious person it has as little chance of being taken back today as an accusation of witchcraft back then. Once the word is spray-painted on the front of Hoskins’ house, once the pack mentality of the neighbourhood sees it, it’s just so many dominoes waiting to fall…

The final act of the movie is as admirable as it is awkward. It impressively doesn’t go down some of the more obvious paths, say, a TV movie with the same subject matter might go. One of the friends of the boy Hoskins befriends plants what we can only assume is child pornography on his computer and tips the police off about it. I don’t know how accurate the scene of his arrest is as far as what would actually happen in the same situation in real life, but they actually let him go to the pub while they search the house… they take the computer away, and, seeing when the material was downloaded combined with the information that Hoskins was in France with his pigeons at that time, don’t even make the slightest suggestion that he had anything to do with it. Another scene has them interview the rowdy mother of Florrie’s best friend. She has that dramatic way with language implying all manner of untruths about Hoskins but using those words that one usually sees have the police arrest the first creepy looking man they see, but they flatly tell her, “sorry, but that doesn’t give us anything to go on…”

There is one moment towards the end which is (if you’ll pardon the spoiler-ish pun) so ballsy and frankly absurd that it almost threatens to take down the movie entirely. It relates to the French neighbour who Hoskins ultimately falls in love with, and I’ll say no more than that. It is startling how an initially wtf reveal in this storyline actually turns into something quite wonderful (not to mention garnering one of the movie’s biggest laughs – yes, bizarrely, there are laughs in this movie… an awkward, yet again admirable, number and variety of them…) as it resolves itself. As I said, the bare bones of this story – the man/little girl relationship – has been done many times and it’s to this movie’s credit how much flavour it adds, with bursts of French music, the pigeon keeping, and this random little storyline.

I was surprised to find mostly positive reviews among the few I could find when I searched after the credits rolled on this one. It’s a subject matter most people have firmly made up their minds about and the approach here is frequently so awkward it’s easy to label as plain ridiculous – most particularly in that wtf reveal of the French neighbour’s subplot. There are many lovely good characters with great actors behind them but the bad characters tend to be sort of embarrassingly two dimensional – hoodies and chavs plain and true. But the movie has some seriously good intentions that I can’t ignore because they’re something I care deeply about. There is a massive problem when it comes to friendships between adults and children that is not talked about nearly enough and it ruins lives constantly and increasingly. This movie like so many doesn’t really offer a solution but it does show perfectly exactly how and where the misunderstandings happen… I recommend it completely.



Sucker Punch

Sucker Punch

Wednesday, April 6th, 2011

Bah, I had trouble making this one gel as I kept thinking of different things to add. Rather than waste any more time trying to make it flow better (which simply isn’t gonna happen) I’m just gonna post the mess as it now stands… which seems rather fitting for the movie, now I come to think of it… I think a few of my points come through, and if they don’t, the two links cover everything else. It’s not a movie that warrants massive discussion, though, I feel. It’s eye candy: you like it or you don’t; you can’t help it if you do, and it needn’t hurt anyone unless you let it…


It perhaps goes without saying that I didn’t expect much from this… but I’m not going to deny, I still really wanted to see it, even after the worst of the reviews came in. I don’t know what made certain moviegoers expect anything else from this than what it delivers. One of my favourites, Mark Kermode, went so far as to suggest that director Zack Snyder might think he’s made another Inception, which is about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard him say. Yes, y’know what, I think I’ll invoke that most awful of recent phrases that get flung around at times like this – some people I’m afraid don’t “get” this movie at all. Not because it’s smart, clever, “game-changing”, but because it’s so insanely simple that people are looking for something that was never meant to be there.

If I described The Ward as “Girl, Interrupted with a bodycount” (which I didn’t – not here at least, not yet lol, one of the reviews that got away – but I would’ve…) then Sucker Punch is The Ward plus The Fall with all the visual insanity Snyder is known for (with the difference being here that I dug it). I can’t stress that enough – this movie is perhaps the most insane I’ve seen – I won’t even try to describe it – and I loved it.

There’s an objection to the movie that concerns itself with the exploitation of women surpassing any message of empowerment the movie purports to – or something to that effect. I’m loathe to get involved with an argument like this because to me it just seems so warped and depressing a way to approach a movie like this that I think it’s best ignored, but I’ll just say that surely such an argument is suggesting that women need some kind of special protection against being portrayed in a ridiculous popcorn movie that is not afforded men, and is hence a little patronising itself? In an equal and reasonable world, surely, violence against women in cinema would be just as unsurprising and unworthy of note (other than how awesomely it’s executed cinematically) as that against men? And given the fact that its director, Zack Snyder, gave us men dressed just as scantily ridiculous in his last two movies (Doctor Manhattan in Watchmen and, err, everyone in 300) doesn’t that even shoot down the “zomg they’re dressed like strippers!” argument?

Anyway that’s pretty much all I have to say on that – to use that as your sole reason to dismiss the movie wholesale (as many have – clearly trying to impress someone) is about as dumb as Mark Kermode’s calling Inception the best film of last year purely because “it proves that blockbusters don’t have to be dumb” (for the record: there are actually reasons I’ll accept for Inception being the best film of last year – they include “I just loved it…” – but not that one… sorry but, to cite just one example, Pixar have been making intelligent blockbusters for _years_…)

That out of the way, I’ll just say this – I don’t know where some reviewers get off comparing this to Inception because they’re clearly entirely different movies, but since you mentioned it, I’d rather watch this than that any day because it knows it’s not trying for greatness and succeeds completely at what it does where Inception (in my opinion) falls far short of its lofty goals (or the ones that fans have assigned it). The movie’s frenetic nature reminded me a little of Scott Pilgrim, not that I’d really normally make that comparison either – but I’d rather watch this than that, even, because it doesn’t have a constant tone of hatred masked with false irony. It has beautiful young girls in awesome costumes which, yeh, I’ll call sexy – nothing I can do about that, it’s ludicrous to apologise for what turns you on. The action sequences are fantastically overblown. And at the end of the day, much to my surprise, it actually has something to say – something akin to Tideland‘s message, it just occurred to me: that we have inside our brains the capacity to deal with anything outside it. It’s vague and perhaps a bit cheesy, but true – certainly no less powerful than Inception‘s (yes I’ll go there again – I didn’t start it) “this sentence is false, but you gotta believe something” joyless, hollow perfection.

Bottom line is, it’s just a movie. I recently linked to this, far better, explanation of (at least) why the movie isn’t the end of the world with the comment, despite still recommending people read it, that I’m not sure if it deserves that much thought but since the naysayers were overthinking it so much it seemed only fair for somebody to do likewise in its favour. Maybe it’s because I watched it just an hour or so after Werner Herzog’s Cave of Forgotten Dreams which so perfectly, simultaneously, made our individual artistic cries into the abyss of time seem both important as a whole yet worthless in their isolation. Sucker Punch is just one movie, and one that mainly sets out to simply be eye candy at that. If you think such a movie has the ability, in just 2 hours, to destroy 50 years of progress for women and society, I’m sorry but it’s you who are underestimating women. It’s a movie that clearly has more interest in having fun than saying anything important. I make no apologies for loving it.



Young and Innocent aka The Girl Was Young

Young and Innocent aka The Girl Was Young

Wednesday, October 20th, 2010

“Don’t let looks influence you, young lady.”
“I don’t.”

After reminding myself how wonderful Nova Pilbeam was in her limited exposure in The Man Who Knew Too Much, I kinda couldn’t wait to get to this one, where she has a far more prominent role.

The movie begins with a man and a woman arguing followed by one of Hitchcock’s most simple but effective images: a woman’s body washes up on a beach with a belt. The young and innocent man of the title unfortunate enough to discover this scene is then mistaken to be the murderer. Nova Pilbeam plays the daughter of the local police chief whose instincts almost immediately tell her that the man is not guilty.

The focus is certainly more upon the heroine than the wrong man himself. Even in the sweep of Hitchcock’s filmography, which had more than its share of strong female leads, Pilbeam’s part stands out here and perhaps this explains the retitling when it was released in America. Again I’m not convinced it belongs in the same breathe as The Man Who Knew too Much or The 39 Steps – like Secret Agent it’s all a little too vague and flighty and in contrast to Sabotage, if anything, it’s just too light. But it has some fantastic sequences in it from the blind man’s buff scene to the fascinating way the real murderer gets himself caught at the end, and it’s a true shame that Nova Pilbeam didn’t really do a lot after this role.



The Man Who Knew Too Much [1934]

The Man Who Knew Too Much [1934]

Wednesday, October 6th, 2010

So, though Hitchcock had a couple of false starts in The Lodger and Blackmail, interspersed between which were a number of dubious experiments of varying success, to me it feels like this one is where he really launched “the true Hitchcock”. I saw this over 10 years ago for the first time and I’m not sure I’ve seen it since; and though I recalled being astonished by it at that time, when I’d not seen that many old movies at all, I couldn’t remember exactly why as I put it on today… though I couldn’t wait to find out.

This remains one of the tightest thrillers ever devised: movies did tend to be shorter at this time, but barring a few exceptions, prior to this Hitchcock tended frequently towards the overlong. Here, the story centres around scant few locations, sequences and setpieces. An opening in the Swiss alps where a mysterious shooting leads into the discovery of a message and the kidnapping of a child as collateral; fun sleuthing scenes at a dentist’s and sun worshipper’s tabernacle; the much talked about “climax” at the Royal Albert Hall; and the sequence I remember most, the siege that forms the grand finale. It’s the kind of movie that’s so simple yet effective it makes you wonder how anyone could have screwed up in the genre ever since (I’m sure we can all think of plenty of bad recent thrillers).

What more is there to say? Peter Lorre is fantastic as the slimy, but fully fleshed out (watch as one of his female aides gets shot at the end, you almost feel sorry for him) villain. Nova Pilbeam is perfect as the kidnapped child, it’s almost a shame she doesn’t have more screen time yet like Dakota Fanning in Man on Fire she makes such an impression early on that her performance resonates even more in her absence. There are more Hitchcock touches than there’s time to list. And that final siege scene is just electrifying. The final shot of Pilbeam being helped back inside through the skylight was the one image that stuck with me vividly all this time since the first viewing. This movie wastes no time – as soon as things are resolved, The End. There’s simply no excuses to not sample this gem. If you’ve never seen a Hitchcock movie before, this is where to start.