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Suicide Squad (2016)
The Worst Heroes Ever turn the DCEU upwards in this joyful romp.
When the world first met Superman, we were lucky he liked us. Spec ops operator Amanda Waller (Viola Davis) doesn't want to take that chance with the next metahuman. She assembles a special unit of career criminals to work as a last line of defense against supernatural threats, in exchange for shorter prison sentences and other such perks.
But Waller's arrogance works against her when one of the squad, Enchantress (Cara Delevigne), goes rogue and awakens her ancient brother in a bid to make humanity worship her once more.
It's now up to this rag-tag band of misfits to save the very people that ruined their lives. Lurking in the shadows of this simple story is The Joker (Jared Leto), who can't bear to be away from his Harley (Margot Robbie) and will stop at nothing to get her back in his crazy arms.
Director David Ayer (The Fast and the Furious, Fury) is no stranger to ensemble filmmaking, and he's in his comfort zone here. Some characters are more important than others, certainly, but everyone gets their time to shine.
De facto leader Deadshot (Will Smith) is wonderfully fleshed out as a devoted dad/serial killer, who can fire off a round almost as fast as he can shoot off his mouth. Davis is chilling as the callous, unflinching Waller: a woman confident enough to handle things herself, but not too proud to call for "help" if it gets things done faster.
Jay Hernandez is El Diablo, a former West Coast gang member whose inability to keep a cool head - literally - leaves him on the sidelines while his squad-mates do the fighting. Haunted by the sins of his past, Diablo is the cathartic heart of a film you'd otherwise expect to leave such emotional soul-searching at the door.
Robbie's Quinn is more The Animated Series than Arkham series. Her whimsy is matched only by her mean streak, though there are fleeting moments where she displays her last lingering shred of sanity, struggling vainly to break free amongst the madness in her mind.
Leto's Joker is an enigma. Far too psychotic for your average villainous crime lord, yet too cold and calculating for the Clown Prince of Crime. Nonetheless, he makes the role his own.
The greatest pleasure of Suicide Squad comes simply from sitting back and watching each of these characters interact with one another. Indeed, the story is so refreshingly basic that the film demands we make our focus the characters, and how they fit into a world that deserves them, but ultimately doesn't need them.
The entire affair abounds in levity and simplicity, two unchecked boxes that hurt Batman v Superman in a way that ultimately caused irreversible damage. This trim, taut tale told in a touch under two hours – almost unheard of for modern blockbusters – moves briskly without feeling choppy.
The film is let down by a little too much exposition (perhaps necessary for viewers unfamiliar with the characters) and some occasionally schlocky, melodramatic dialogue, but those minor gripes do little to detract from the overall experience.
A long time coming since the disappointing events of BvS, Suicide Squad turns the DC cinematic universe in an entirely new direction: one of joy, excitement and boundless entertainment.
Star Wars: Episode VII - The Force Awakens (2015)
Abrams brings the wonder of The Force to a new generation.
If you don't include the dreadful prequel trilogy from George Lucas, many Star Wars fans have spent over thirty years waiting for the next great addition to the sci-fi saga worshipped the world over.
With The Force Awakens, J.J. Abrams has delivered a thrilling, energetic, though not altogether mind- blowing film that has deftly added to the rich tapestry that is Star Wars, putting the saga in good stead for years to come.
We first meet the villainous First Order and Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) through the eyes of heroic Resistance fighter pilot Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac). Hidden inside Dameron's droid, BB-8, is a map to the mythic Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, who has disappeared off the face of the galaxy since overthrowing the Empire many moons ago.
When Dameron is captured, disillusioned stormtrooper Finn (John Boyega) helps him escape, and the two team up with backwater scavenger Rey (Daisy Ridley) – and some familiar faces – to find Luke before the enemy can.
The film ticks all the boxes demanded of the tent pole of a new trilogy. Our new heroes are introduced organically and the effortless chemistry between them is immediately apparent.
More importantly, each character just feels likable; a far cry from the cardboard caricatures and stiffly spoken occupants of Lucas' prior trilogy. Boyega, the most lighthearted of the three, is particularly great at mixing comic relief and deathly seriousness to form a well-rounded, magnetic character. No Jar Jar Binks is he.
The trio is still made up of the handsome, rougish pilot, the unwitting and sometimes unwilling youngster, and the anti-damsel-in-distress whose mysterious origins confound her comrades, but each character has enough individualism for this to not be a huge problem.
Somewhat more concerning is the film's over-reliance on fan service and obvious hark backs to the original trilogy, and Episode IV especially. More than once, Abrams' safe decisions cross the line from merely winking at the audience to recycling giant chunks of a plot we've already seen before.
The main setting is a bigger, badder Death Star. The main battle is waged both on the ground between mentor and fallen apprentice, and in the sky between fighter squadrons. The main revelation is again familial in nature. The film spends so much time making these comparisons glaringly obvious that it detracts from the other major arcs a couple of new characters go through. As a result, their journeys feel rushed and perhaps more suited to span across two or three movies, not one.
Regardless, The Force Awakens does everything a Star Wars film should. It is blistering, absorbing, and ends on a heaving, operatic note sure to leave fans theorising until Episode VIII.
*You can contact me at [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Ant-Man (2015)
Marvel crawls over familiar ground in this by-the-numbers blockbuster.
"Give the audience what they want": it's been a staple of Marvel's on-screen storytelling for years. It's produced franchises, crossovers and billions of dollars, but along the way someone forgot to tell the studio giants what keeps movies fresh: variety.
Paul Rudd is Scott Lang, a cat burglar ex-con keen to quit "the life" and make amends with his young daughter. After denying several advances from his old crew of bumbling thieves (Michael Pena, David Dastmalchian and rapper T.I.), Lang is approached by Hank Pym (Michael Douglas), the original Ant-Man, with an offer to steal a copycat suit and prevent it being sold for warfare.
Even a screenplay co-written by the clever Edgar Wright (The World's End, Scott Pilgrim vs. The World) can't polish the studio's insistence on returning to the same tired, formulaic jokes time after time.
With each new film, Marvel's cinematic universe continues to cross more broadly the line separating action and comedy. This is all well and good, provided the humour carries some wit or originality with it, which this film does not. Were it not for the comedic sensibilities of Rudd and the malleable Pena, Ant-Man would be the most groan-inducing Marvel release yet.
Rudd makes a very likable hero, and Douglas gives a typically committed performance. Corey Stoll's Darren Cross, though, makes for a pretty goofy villain. His involvement in the story may have worked better did he not take himself so seriously, as he sticks out sorely in an otherwise lighthearted movie. His cliché-ridden dialogue during the climax feels lazy and brutally exposes the character's hollowness as a true threat.
Still, the film has its positives. The story is well paced, and the balance it strikes between a smaller scale adventure and one that still manages to feel important is a welcome change from the unfettered CGI carnage that comes packaged with some of the studio's bigger names.
The refreshing absence of exploding buildings and forty-minute firefights allow director Peyton Reed (Yes Man) to explore fun, unique fight scenes that make the most of Ant-Man's abilities.
The film also does a good job of taking what could've been the lamer aspects of the character – namely, his ability to make actual ants do his bidding – and explaining them in a way that sounds practical and important.
Ant-Man isn't the most insulting film of the summer. It just falters in the same places that have kept the MCU in a rut for far too long.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Wi-heom-han gyan-gye (2012)
Mysteries of the Orient.
An adaptation of the two hundred year old French novel of the same name, director Jin-ho Hur's Dangerous Liaisons remains fairly faithful to the book, with the noticeable exception of landing the story in 1930s China.
In a world where power is as metaphysical as it is monetary, the sensual and conniving Miss Mo (Cecilia Cheung) enlists the allure of notorious playboy Xie Yifan (Jang Dong-gun) to help her toy with the relationships of unsuspecting acquaintances. When the cruel pair makes a bet that Yifan has no hope of seducing the prim and proper Du Fenyu (Zhang Ziyi)- a wager neither party has even considered losing- matters begin to spiral out of control as young lovers Beibei and Dai are thrown into the mix and the human element rears its ugly head.
The film looks fantastic. The overall camera-work is inspired and dynamic, while the interior cinematography is tinged with a golden hue that gives each scene a unique and stunning richness. Exterior shots are almost Snyder-esque, making modest use of computer-generated imagery to recreate post-WW1 Shanghai in all its splendour.
But aesthetic appeal aside, the strength of this film rests on its characters. Here the audience is presented with a couple of individuals who have achieved great success in their own lives by blocking out their natural human states and manipulating 'weaker-minded' counterparts for their own amusement. As a result, the film accommodates a lot of intrigue when these raw emotions inevitably boil over and consume them.
Unfortunately, Hur's ambition in attempting to weave a multitude of arcs together during the third act gets the better of him, as a need to neatly wrap up the holistic plot overwhelms the emotional investment placed in each solitary character. As the closing credits roll, it becomes apparent that Dangerous Liaisons lacked the urgency and genuine thrill demanded, or at least permitted, by the subject matter.
It is bittersweet, then, to assert that the film stumbles at the final hurdle when everything leading up to that point is actually quite fascinating. No character is omitted from the story for any extended time, motifs in the form of letters, mirrors and closed doors intelligently hint at the exclusive, secluded world these people live in and the epilogue is rare in that it is both cathartic and memorable in the way that many others are not.
At its core, Dangerous Liaisons is an atypical and worthwhile tragic love story; Shakespearean in enterprise despite lacking in execution.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Office Space (1999)
You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll be inspired to update your resume.
Only a couple of years into the syndication of his two most famous projects, Beavis and Butthead and King of the Hill, comedian Mike Judge tackled live-action laughs with Office Space, one of the most endearing and relevant comedies of the 1990s.
We follow mindless office drone Peter (Ron Livingston), who gets by each day by doing the bare minimum at his tedious job while thinking up ways to patch things up with his estranged wife. When the couple's hypnotherapy session goes awry courtesy of the therapist dying of a heart attack, Peter is left in a state of eternal calm. Realising it's time to get one over on his insufferable boss, he recruits gangster rap loving white boy Michael (David Herman) and easily-angered foreigner Samir (Ajay Naidu) to teach the IniTech brass that greed isn't always good.
The film hits the perfect note between comedic exaggeration and grounded reality, as things may start to feel a little too real for anyone stuck in the same dead-end job as Peter. Creeping around in the background of almost every scene are the tiny idiosyncrasies that make the typical workplace that little less bearable on an everyday basis. The rhythmic ringing of phones, monosyllabic conversations around the water cooler and endless amounts of menial tasks give Office Space a true sense of, well, space, and make our connections with its poor inhabitants all the easier.
Most of the comedy may come from just how real everything feels, but don't underestimate the bit parts played along the way. Surrounding Peter's trio are a host of funny but fleshed-out side characters, including Peter's love interest Joanna (Jennifer Aniston), unfortunate office punching bag Milton (Stephen Root), world-weary and naturally cynical Tom (Richard Reihle) and passive-aggressive, scene-stealing boss Lumbergh (Gary Cole). Simply put, Office Space has something for everyone. And who knows, you might just hate your job a little less when it's over.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Pain & Gain (2013)
Do you believe in Bay?
"My name is Daniel Lugo, and I believe in fitness." So begins the latest Michael Bay trashfest in the most Michael Bay way possible: jacked on glistening testosterone, violent camera-work and glorious slo-mo. It's a sign of things to come in Pain & Gain and, in a strange sort of way, the crazed director's stubbornness in blocking out the haters and sticking with a winning formula is almost admirable. But anyone who feels that Hollywood lost its last shred of cinematic integrity a long time ago doesn't need any further convincing from this self-indulgent garbage.
Based on a true story (no, really), we follow ambitious bodybuilder Daniel (Wahlberg), who feels like life has cut him a tough break and that he deserves his slice of the warped American dream. While working as a personal trainer for the wealthy and arrogant Victor (Tony Shalhoub), Daniel hatches a foolproof plan – with the help of fellow musclemen Paul (Dwayne Johnson) and Adrian (Anthony Mackie) – to kidnap and extort Victor. The execution half goes to plan, until Victor enlists the help of a retired PI (Ed Harris) to track down the trio, who have since fallen deep into the abyss of criminal excess.
The film is not slow, per se, but it simply rambles on care of some borderline schizophrenic storytelling. Everyone who's anyone gets their own tacky voice-over narration, the character arcs traverse into ludicrous territory, and the two hour runtime feels much like the final superset of an all-day workout: it can't come fast enough. By the end of a mentally – and even somewhat physically – exhausting watch, the film feels like a dream sequence; you roll with the punches while it's happening, but once you've regained consciousness and spent two minutes thinking about it, it's clear that absolutely nothing made sense.
Perhaps the biggest disappointment here is the butchering of the subject matter. The true story is an absorbing one; a tale of high stakes investigation packed with real-life twists. There is nothing wrong with rehashing the facts and moving in a more comedic direction, but the whole experience eventually degrades into a point-and-laugh session directed towards the 'roid-head culture. Wahlberg's Lugo is the definition of an antihero: a man who does bad things but with good intentions. After taking what he wants from Victor, he's content to spend the rest of his life organising neighbourhood watches and pick-up basketball games, but the allure of one more job is too tempting – all of which is merely glossed over.
Australia's Rebel Wilson contributes nothing in a thankless and unfunny role, but the leading team's natural chemistry does draw a handful of laughs amidst the chaos. These moments of clarity are few and far between, though, drowned out by the incessant noise demanded by a project more concerned with panoramic beach sweeps and mind-boggling amounts of ass shots. His name is Michael Bay, and he doesn't believe in subtlety.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
The Wizard of Oz (1939)
This quintessential gateway to movie fandom hasn't aged a day in 75 years.
If the ultimate mark of deciding the greatest film of all time is the sheer number of people who have seen it, then a strong case could be made for The Wizard of Oz being the most enduring achievement in Hollywood history. Beloved by everyone from eight to eighty, the musical has entertained countless generations since its spellbinding release in 1939. It remains one of the first cinematic memories entrenched in the minds of many a self-respecting cinephile and now, on the eve of its 75th anniversary, the film has been re-released (in 3D, naturally), in all its visually arresting glory.
When bloodthirsty farmgirl Dorothy Gale (a fresh-faced and stunning Judy Garland, in the role that launched her towards unabashed superstardom) is transported to the surreal landscape of Oz, she kills the first person she meets, then teams up with three strangers (Ray Bolger, Jack Haley & Bert Lahr) to kill again. Okay, maybe writer Rick Polito's famous synopsis is a little deceiving, but this is truly a film that needs no introduction.
It's hard to forget just how gargantuan a legacy the film has left on the world of cinema and, indeed, the pop culture landscape. A delightful screenplay brimming with quotable material from co-writers Noel Langley, Florence Ryerson and Edgar Allan Woolf, and a range of eclectic musical numbers work in perfect harmony, from Garland's spine-tingling rendition of Somewhere over the Rainbow and the Tin Man's touching If I only had a Heart to more upbeat diddies like Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead! And We're Off to See the Wizard.
Although seasoned with an innumerable amount of on-set dramas and ludicrous urban legends, the film hasn't lost a touch of respectability in any department three-quarters of a century later. Margaret Hamilton's Wicked Witch is just as traumatising; the pulsing aesthetics of Oz just as mesmerising; the virginal Dorothy's realisation that "there's no place like home" just as sympathising. The whole experience is a product of a simpler time, so rich in history and innocence that even youngsters will somehow find themselves reminiscing about remote 1930s Kansas and its bone-deep, home-cooked morals.
The 3D gives the film a little extra pop in places, but much like other conversions, it falls into the background after a while, likely to be all but forgotten by the time we get our first technicolour glimpse of Munchkinland. Of course, this is no major gripe, existing only as a small bonus on top of what is a near-unbeatable big screen experience.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters (2013)
Not your typical Greek tragedy.
Based on the kid's novel by Rick Riordan and directed by tween-friendly filmmaker Thor Freudenthal (Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Hotel For Dogs), Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters picks up from 2010's origin story and introduces us to a new world of half-bloods: products of their mum or dad doing the nasty in the pasty with a Greek god. Seen as outcasts in the normal world, these children have taken refuge at Camp Half-Blood, where they live in harmony under the protection of Zeus' magic dome. But when evil forces find a way to penetrate the barrier, the ambush stinks of an inside job, forcing Percy and friends to recover the mystical Golden Fleece and restore peace.
The franchise loses some star power in the sequel (Sean Bean's Zeus, Steve Coogan's Hades and Uma Thurman's Medusa are all gone), but it compensates with cheeky cameos from Nathan Fillion and Stanley Tucci, on top of an unfair amount of impossibly good-looking young thespians. Tucci is particularly fun, hamming it up as Dionysus, connoisseur of fine wine/borderline alcoholic, and reluctant caretaker of Camp Half-Blood. His running feud with Zeus – who keeps using his powers to turn wine into water – delivers cheap laughs, none more so than when Dionysus threatens to turn to Christianity because "their guy can do that in reverse."
The film isn't all cartoons and comedy, because when the series of events actually kick into gear, it develops into a pleasantly absorbing adventure. Pieced together on a spare change budget of $95 million, a series of thrilling set pieces allow the SFX department to flex their muscles. The bloodless, PG action and truckloads of CGI can only take the experience so far, but the film never feels like it's cutting corners, instead showing a del Toro-esque patience to wow the crowd while deftly keeping the novelty from wearing off.
Consideration is also given to weaving in some of the finer points of Greek mythology. Anyone familiar with the quasi-religion knows it plays out as some sort of ancient Jersey Shore; a rich tapestry of backstabbing, double-crossing and one-night-stands, all arguably stemming from Zeus' inability to keep it in his pants. Again, things aren't quite that graphic, but family films have traditionally manufactured lamer villains than one who gains strength from eating his own children.
Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters proves a surprisingly enjoyable romp, delivering a story naturally tailored to an established audience, but doing just enough to keep things fresh and exciting for big kids too.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Machete Kills (2013)
Machete kills it in this rip-roaring sequel.
Three years ago, we all learnt that Machete don't text. In the blasting, blistering sequel, Machete Kills, everyone's favourite renegade federale informs us that he don't tweet, fail or, apparently, do things by halves. Again teaming up with Mexploitation master Robert Rodriguez, unlikely leading man Denny Trejo – and an eclectic cast that reads like a guest list of Hollywood's most debaucherous house party – have created an inexplicably enjoyable summer romp; a film that plays by its own rules and never alienates the audience despite an increasingly ridiculous plot line.
After earning his green card for his previous heroism, Machete is recruited by the US government to take down one of the world's most wanted criminal masterminds, Mendez the Madman (Demian Bichir). Along the way, he is ensnared by the seductive but sinister Madame Desdemona (Sofia Vergara), who blames Machete for the death of her daughter (Vanessa Hudgens) at the hands of Mendez's cartel. The plot thickens when the mysterious arms dealer Luther Voz (Mel Gibson) threatens to launch his piece de resistance into space. It's up to Machete to stop him, provided he can outrun the ruthless bounty hunter La Chameleon (Lady Gaga, Antonio Banderas, Cuba Gooding Jr. and Walton Goggins all contribute as the master of disguise).
Yeah, there's quite a bit going on in this one. While some might argue – perhaps with good reason – that Rodriguez could've used someone on set to tell him "no" every once in a while, the end result is a rampantly good time buoyed by the intentional goofiness of each character.
Lady Gaga holds her own in her feature film debut, Charlie Sheen/Carlos Estevez earns votes as a drinking, swearing, whoring, blackmailing President, and the rest of the big names ham it up as needed, with the only speedbump being Vergara's somewhat tiresome Austin Powers-inspired femme fatale, complete with dominatrix whip and standard issue nipple-guns. The star, however, might just be the lesser-known Bichir. Nominated for a Best Actor Oscar in 2011's A Better Life, he steals the show as a drug lord with a severe case of split personality; his jumpy and unpredictable demeanour making for big laughs when he shares the screen with the no- nonsense Trejo.
Rodriguez has put himself in the best possible position as a filmmaker facing potential scrutiny here. Any moments of brilliant action or cracking dialogue (and there are plenty of them) can be chalked up to his talents, while cheesy character arcs and gaping plot holes (which aren't exactly lacking either) are overlooked because, well, that's just grindhouse. But put simply, Machete Kills just doesn't care, in the best possible way. It throws all conventions of typical action movie-making out, or rather, through, the window, and never fails to ensure pure, unadulterated fun is its top priority.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Absolute Deception (2013)
Deceptively mediocre.
Aussie director Brian Trenchard-Smith's reputation for squeezing every penny while delivering action mixed with a somewhat warped sense of humour is on scant display in his latest project, Absolute Deception. Queensland's sun-drenched Gold Coast is the perfect backdrop for a high- stakes game of cat and mouse, and the film makes for a mostly tolerable experience, but lacks any point of difference amidst the stunted landscape of action-thrillers.
Cuba Gooding Jr. plays a no-nonsense FBI agent who witnesses the murder of Miles, a man about to placed in witness protection. In giving the bad news to the victim's wife (the stunning Emmanuelle Vaugier), we learn that Miles faked his death two years prior, setting up a web of lies that seem to tie in with Miles' shady second wife and Murdoch-esque media mogul Mr. Osterberg.
Gooding and Vaugier display solid chemistry as the reluctant tag team, and their snappy interplay forms the highlight of the film. Unfortunately, outside of these fleeting moments of creativity, there is little else to stimulate the senses script-wise. Even more surprisingly, it is actually Vaugier, as the nosy and fearless reporter Rebecca Scott, who drives most of the plot. Meanwhile, Gooding feels more like a bit player despite his top billing, leaving much to be desired considering he is infinitely the more interesting character.
Although highly revered by a man who built an empire on cinematic thrills in Quentin Tarantino, Trenchard-Smith fails to impose his will on the film's direction. This isn't without giving it a decent shake-up in the process, but every time Absolute Deception looks primed for a step into the big leagues it grounds out in a blaze of unfettered predictability; a matinée shell of something that could've been a ton of fun.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
2 Guns (2013)
2 Boring.
A bit of a letdown in ways that might not be expected, 2 Guns is not exactly a sign of what's wrong with Hollywood as a whole, but is rather a by-the-book exhibit of the kind of stockstandard product that whimpers into Aussie cinemas around this time of year, unceremoniously wedged between the kid-friendly fare of the school holidays and the early entrants of statuette season. High on star power and little else, the film barely gets by on its quality cast alone, churning out a mid-level blockbuster that simply tries too hard too often.
Bobby Trench (Denzel Washington) and Michael Stigman (Mark Wahlberg) are a pair of undercover agents from two different departments, assigned to the same task of taking down a ruthless drug cartel headed by Papi Greco (Edward James Olmos). When their mission fails, the two are forced to go on the run, learning that each man thought the other was a criminal, and that they both have a sinister personal agenda at hand.
If you like needlessly convoluted movies poorly disguised as gripping political thrillers, look no further. What starts off as a mindless but easily digestible comedy gets messy faster than a coke deal gone wrong, developing arcs involving the navy stealing from the US banking sector, the CIA supposedly in cahoots with Mexican drug traffickers, and the small matter of a missing $43 million in dirty cash pursued by every man and his bull, Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World-style.
It's impossible to keep up with the number of fake-outs and double-crossings that pollute almost every scene in 2 Guns, so much so that it almost feels like some characters switch allegiances twice or more in under two hours, completely nuking the line between good and evil. Ironically, it is the film's anticipated strong suit – that is, a simple story tailored to a fun Sunday afternoon in the cinema – that proves its rapid undoing, while an expectedly poor screenplay actually manages to pepper in its fair share of laughs, helped in no small part by Washington and Wahlberg's seen-a-thousand-times-but-still-funny buddy cop routine.
Elsewhere, reliable veterans Edward James Olmos and Bill Paxton (as a twisted CIA kingpin with a penchant for his own unique brand of Russian roulette) give rounded turns that are, quite frankly, too good for a film that does nothing for their respective characters. A flavourless slice of immemorable action, 2 Guns offers no answers, and will leave you asking all the wrong questions.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Ill Manors (2012)
Plan B goes Pulp Fiction - with mixed results.
The debut feature from Ben Drew (better known as rapper Plan B) makes some interesting inroads as a gritty gangster film bent on uncovering the many flaws of David Cameron's broken Britain. But, at an ill-advised two-hour plus runtime and an ill-managed script that very quickly degenerates into a nonsensical shamble of f-bombs, c-bombs, 'innits' and 'bruvvas', Ill Manors looks more like an unassuming eight-year-old with a painted gold chain and counterfeit snapback: he thinks he's tough, but he's the only one.
The effort made to blend the six stories surrounding the film's doomed night crawlers – four drug dealers and a pair of prostitutes – is a respectable one. However, lost in the apparent coolness of overlapping one twisted life with another is the expectation that these stories will eventually lead to something – which they don't.
There is still some to like about Drew's ambling adventure, though. Ahmed is believable as a conflicted soul trying to help, and each character is introduced via an original rap song sung by the director. But because the basics of filmmaking deflate these otherwise creative moments, one gets the impression the whole project would've worked better as a storytelling album (a la Pink Floyd's The Wall or Kanye's College Dropout), not a feature film.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Emperor (2012)
An intimate and criminally underrated war drama.
Matthew Fox and Tommy Lee Jones play polarising American WW2 army generals to a tee in Emperor, the compellingly true story of the aftermath of the war in Japan, and the concerted US effort to compile enough evidence to convict Japanese Emperor Hirohito of war crimes. Trained on a seldom-acknowledged aspect of mankind's greatest battle, Emperor infuses a grand story with intimate relationships, making for a superb addition to the voluminous library of war on film.
While Tommy Lee Jones relishes in playing every Tommy Lee Jones character ever (stealing all the best lines in the process) as the hard-nosed but cunning General MacArthur, Fox delivers a more grounded and arresting performance as Bonner Fellers, a man torn between his moral obligations and his duty to the army, and to an American public crying out for blood.
Director Peter Webber infuses a romantic subplot with Fellers' Japanese girlfriend Aya (Eriko Hatsune) neatly, filling a role but never interjecting into a story that, quite frankly, is underscored by the power of men post-war. When MacArthur finally comes face-to-face with the Emperor after an excruciating build-up, the scene's emotional force and intense interplay perfectly resonate the best attributes of this vastly underrated drama.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Godzilla (2014)
Is the big guy back with a roar or a whimper?
It was always going to be a task of kaiju-sized proportions. After Roland Emmerich's (perhaps unfairly) maligned shot at Godzilla in 1998 – his titular lizard reduced to the disparaging title of 'Godzilla-in-name-only' by many fans – it took almost twenty years before an American studio would again have its hands on one of the biggest stars of Eastern cinema. So do Gareth Edwards (Monsters) and his bang-up cast do the monster justice? The answer is a resounding
sort of.
Fifteen years after losing his wife in a freak accident in Japan, engineer Joe Brody (Bryan Cranston) enlists the help of his army lieutenant son Ford (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) to break into the site of the mishap – now designated as a quarantine zone – to learn how she really died. Finding the zone to be completely non-toxic, he stumbles upon a giant cocoon housing a MUTO (Massive Unidentified Terrestrial Organism). When the creature escapes and begins scouring the world to mate with more of its kind, it is up to Godzilla to awake from his ancient slumber and restore balance to the earth.
As far as holiday blockbusters go, this is about as unconventional as they come. Short of seeing giant monsters rumbling in the concrete jungle, forget every other plot point you might expect going in, because chances are things won't pan out that way. The film takes virtually every convention of the typical monster movie and tips it on its head. For instance, Godzilla is neither hero nor villain; his actions are totally selfish; and, in a refreshing change of pace, he has no beef with us humans, even though we give him every reason to squash us into oblivion. We're not bearing witness to an Oscar-winning screenplay in mid-May by any means, but Edwards earns top marks for trying his very best to deliver something truly original.
Speaking of original, this iteration of Godzilla stays infinitely more faithful to his Japanese ancestor than G.I.N.O's go-round. It's out with the lanky arms, lean legs and love of fine seafood, and back in with the humanoid physique, tail whip and atomic breath, the latter of which paves the way for the film's most gleeful fatality.
It's only fair that human characters should take a back seat in a mega movie like this, but even this top-notch cast can't lift the laziness of their characters. Both Cranston and Ken Watanabe's kaiju expert are criminally underused for entirely different reasons, leaving Taylor-Johnson with the impossible task of breathing life into the film's most boring character.
As for the beasties, some may approve of the slow-burn reveal – Godzilla himself chills out for almost two-thirds of the runtime before appearing in full form – harking back to classic cryptids like Jaws, Alien and Predator, but before you know it, the climactic fight is over and the big guy barely even feels like the star of his own movie. It's almost as if they're planning for him show up again sometime soon. Oh wait
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Delivery Man (2013)
A talented cast gets swallowed up by tedious detours.
Just imagine it. 553 mini Vince Vaughns running around this tiny joint we call Earth. It's a scary concept in anyone's language, but that's precisely the premise put to us in Delivery Man, a mediocre dramedy that follows hard-luck David Wozniak (Vaughn), an aimless stoner trying to prove his worth to concerned girlfriend Emma (Cobie Smulders). Thankfully for us, though, David's many children are infinitely – and somewhat inexplicably – more attractive than our affable lead. As if holding down an easy job wasn't hard enough, David has to contend with a mass civil suit being filed against him by a quarter of his illegitimate flock after his generous donations in the '80s come back to bite him. Having donated under the pseudonym 'Starbuck', David's right to privacy is now at risk, unless his bumbling lawyer (Chris Pratt) can salvage a legal loophole.
The whole experience should feel like a drastic case of déjà vu for director Ken Scott and screenwriter Martin Petit, who collaborated on the 2011 Canadian film Starbuck. Less of a re- imagining and more of a direct remake, Delivery Man starts off strong, but gradually fades into mediocrity courtesy of, well, just too much going on. The film's multitude of side-arcs, including David's family issues, work responsibilities, commitments to several needy offspring and a completely unexplained detour that involves owing money to the mob thoroughly overshadow his quest for fatherhood, turning an otherwise light encounter into a needlessly tedious exercise.
As a result, a film that should in no way leave any plot point unresolved instead carries a range of probing questions. Who are these Russian gangsters we keep hearing about? Would any judge in the land realistically accept David's legal argument? And how do so many strangers keep finding ways to break into his apartment?
This directorial oversight unfortunately sours a film that is otherwise quite entertaining. Petit stretches the PG rating as far as he can, working in a handful of funny, albeit unoriginal scenes, and each supporting character is more than a two-dimensional caricature. Andrzej Blumenfeld is perfectly cast as arguably Delivery Man's most complete character, David's wise, introverted father. Meanwhile, Smulders' conflicted, unassuming girlfriend, and the malleable Pratt's portrayal of a kind-hearted lawyer pushed to his emotional limit by the dregs of marriage each compliment Vaughn's warm performance to the point of tolerance despite the film's salient flaws.
All Superheroes Must Die (2011)
All plot points must die.
What looks like a fascinating concept on paper is executed in villainously poor fashion in All Superheroes Must Die, a micro-budget thriller that twists almost every convention of the oversaturated genre, but is drastically let down by innumerable plot holes, a jagged script and empty performances all round.
Sick to death of playing the speed bump to the good guys and their well-meaning plans, supervillian Rickshaw (James Remar) has knocked out and stolen the powers of Charge (Jason Trost), Shadow (Sophie Merkley), Cutthroat (X-Men First Class' Lucas Till) and The Wall (Lee Valmassy), the town's four resident superheroes. Meanwhile, he has rigged several town landmarks – and many more innocent civilians – to explosives, meaning the heroes have no choice but to play by his wicked rules.
Directed and written by lead actor Trost, the film can never seem to decide between being a serious look at the sacrifices made to be a hero, or a tongue-in-cheek satire of the suspension of disbelief required by the genre. It constantly flexes between sharp, intimate flashbacks showing the closeness of the group before becoming superheroes, and incredulously over-the- top delivery from Remar and Sean Whalen – as side villain Manpower – none of which hit their mark.
The rest of All Superheroes Must Die is a mish-mash of unexplained plot points and unprovoked character turns. The story jumps regularly, giving the impression that a short shoot forced pages to be ripped out of the script at will. And while some films of this nature do a fantastic job of stretching the production value, Superheroes looks every bit like a low budget cellar dweller, doing little to mitigate a collection of lacklustre individual parts, forming an utterly forgettable shell of an intriguing idea.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Bad Grandpa (2013)
"The funniest film of the year."
Johnny Knoxville has huge balls. And no, that isn't just referring to the prosthetic ones that hang out of his old man briefs at the most inopportune times during Bad Grandpa. Maybe it's the salt-of-the-earth Midwestern hospitality that the heart of America is known for, or maybe it's the added security offered by a tiny camera hidden behind every corner, but how Knoxville makes it through the film's 92 minute runtime without a single punch in the face is anyone's guess. Extremely lewd and incredibly crass, Bad Grandpa is also a welcome divergence from the growing rumblings of Oscar panhandlers, delivering a juvenile, unrestrained, but very funny blend of Borat and Jackass that makes for the perfect cinema experience with the right crowd.
Knoxville gets back in the wrinkly skin and modest clothes of his alter ego Irving Zisman, tasked with driving mischievous – or maybe just highly impressionable? – grandson Billy (Jackson Nicoll) across the country to be reunited with his dirt bag father Chuck (Greg Harris). A razor-thin plot paves the way for the film's real drawcard: an endless supply of set-up gags victimising wedding guests, fast food workers, funeral mourners and pageant show mums, just to name a few.
What's lost in all the gross-out humour and slapstick skits is just how well Knoxville can pick his spots. He clearly relishes the role of Zisman, which gives him the chance to not only show his wares as an experienced character actor, but milk every situation for the best response possible. You're left in a sort of dumbstruck awe by the end, wondering just how he managed to convince a group of black choir singers to join in a rendition of 'I've got the Joy' moments after his deceased wife tumbled out of her casket, or why a pair of friendly but thick removalists agreed to load said deceased wife into the boot of Irvin's car.
The whole experience is tinged with a blot of social critique, but importantly keeps the laughs coming in perhaps the most consistently funny film of 2013. Fans of Knoxville's prior shenanigans will feel like they're seeing an old friend during the credits, sure to get a kick out of the outtakes he shares with the rest of the Jackass frat pack.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Mike Tyson: Undisputed Truth (2013)
Iron Mike proves he's still The Champ.
Renowned sports fanatic, basketball tragic and occasional loudmouth Spike Lee swaps the hardwood of Madison Square Garden for the velvet curtains of Broadway, and Mike Tyson swaps sweaty mitts for a shiny mic in Undisputed Truth, a taping of one of Tyson's one-man shows in which he candidly shares the highs, lows, jokes and traumas of his colourful and exorbitant life.
You don't earn this many nicknames without having a natural and all-consuming charisma and Mike Tyson, alias 'Iron Mike', alias 'Champ', alias 'The baddest man on the planet,' has it in droves. He tells the story the only way it can possibly be told, not with stereotypically bearded and bespectacled talking heads, or bland and well-worn archive footage, but with a youthful enthusiasm that truly captures the man he is: one with many faults but who oozes passion and a pursuit of excellence.
Tyson's storytelling is a little sloppy and often erratic, but certainly never boring. Those looking for a well-balanced discussion of some of the most scrutinised moments of his life may find Undisputed Truth to be as shallow and self-serving as any predictable, studio-sanctioned biopic. But Iron Mike doesn't care. If he wants to explicitly denounce Don King, call his ex-wife a demonic, rabid golddigger or recall the time he didn't know what to do with Brad Pitt – the details of which are far too sordid for publication – then that's exactly what the Champ will do.
His tale isn't all slander and street fights though, as some genuinely touching moments come through in his remembrance of fallen friends and family. If there was something admirable about the brash, violent young man who turned sheer rage into inconceivable success, then there's just as much to like about the reflective, repentant man he has become, both traits of which are displayed in equal measure in this engrossing narrative.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Elle s'en va (2013)
Ambitious Average French.
Quintessentially French in almost every way, from the extended stare shots to an abundance of cigarette smoke and, of course, numerous mental breakdowns from a character vainly trying to find her place in the universe, Emmanuelle Bercot's (Backstage) road trip dramedy On My Way has all the stylings of a heartfelt foreign gem, but never fleshes out the very promising relationships forged by its cast, opting instead for mediocrity through melodrama.
The inarguable highlight is the performance of Catherine Deneuve, one-time sex kitten turned French film royalty, who – still stunning in her late sixties – keeps the film rolling with her dedicated, complex portrayal of Bettie, an aimless restaurant owner who tries to stitch up her frayed relationship with daughter Muriel (singer-songwriter Camille) by taking her grandson, the flamboyant Charly (Nemo Schiffman) on a cross-country road trip.
Like most car-buddy films, the reward lies in the journey, not the destination. On My Way runs into both peaks and troughs in this area, with some moments deftly illustrating the different worlds Bettie and her grandson come from (especially touching is the pair sharing terrible Chinese food in a two-star motel while discussing love and loss), while others leave you demanding Charly cop a smack around the head from his decidedly pushover grandma.
When Bettie finally delivers Charly to the mansion of his estranged grandfather – now the mayor of a remote country village – the film's loose ends struggle to catch up to an ambitious ending that unfortunately closes on a whimper, not a bang. On My Way is a pleasant ride, sure, just not a memorable one.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
I Am Eleven (2011)
A telling tale where the wonders of childhood meet the gripping reality of adolescence.
Documentary filmmaker Genevieve Bailey's immersive style of globe-trotting storytelling blends effortlessly with a colourful cast of subjects for I Am Eleven, an intriguing and intricate look into the common forces - and salient differences- that shape children all over the world.
As the title may suggest, Bailey has assembled a fascinating group of pre-teens from fifteen different countries, each with their own histories, difficulties and ambitions, but a heartbreaking tale of poverty clashing with first-world problems this is not. Bailey, with the use of a blunt hammer in favour of a soft touch, could have easily delivered a wrought portrait of humanity against a grim backdrop peppered with finger-pointing, but she instead address the more positive aspects of childhood; the little things in life that affirm the human experience.
Naturally, it is the colourful cast that enriches the message, as each child, while sharing stark similarities with a couple of others, is inherently a unique specimen; a product of their environment as much as their upbringing. A pair of Swedish rappers, a triple threat All-American girl, a free-thinking but mentally disabled British boy, an Indian orphan, a wise-beyond-his- years Frenchman and an aspiring fiction writer, born in London but living in the Czech Republic, make up only some of the peculiar but absorbing personalities.
Their responses to Bailey's open-ended questions are sometimes silly, occasionally profound but always constructive, as by the end of the film the audience has a very detailed idea of who these children are and where they might be headed. Or so we think. A motza of special features (that includes audience Q&As with Bailey and behind the scenes footage) is highlighted by a follow-up visit with many of the film's most arresting individuals, most of whom have taken their lives in drastically different directions than originally intended by their wide-eyed past selves. Despite the implications, Bailey steers clear of a preachy conclusion, instead allowing the film's foremost theme of global commonality to speak for itself.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
The Heat (2013)
Bad cop, worse cop.
Director of the wildly successful and outrageously provocative Bridesmaids, Paul Feig, reunites with rapidly risen comedienne Melissa McCarthy and tags along the malleable Sandra Bullock for The Heat, a lighthearted romp that brings with it the director's penchant for border-pushing humour, but fails to land all of its many, many punches.
The story opens on uptight, career-driven Special Agent Ashburn's (Bullock) takedown of a couple of low-life nobodies, but when the case thickens, she is sent across the country on the hunt for a ruthless crime lord. Unbeknownst to her, she is paired up with the foul-mouthed Mullins (McCarthy), a streetwise Bostonian who has no problems taking extreme measures to keep her beloved community safe.
More so with comedies than perhaps any other genre, an excess of trailers runs the risk of giving away the film's best moments in a wry attempt to get people through the door. Refreshingly, The Heat is not one of those films. Courtesy of an innumerable number of F-bombs and sharply sexual humour, TV spots have been restricted to advertising only the most mundane of jokes in promos, which proves rather misleading.
This is no take-the-whole-family-plus-grandma day at the movies. A merciless barrage of crude and nasty comedy spews forth from the pen of writer Katie Dippold (Parks & Recreation), helped along in no small part thanks to energetic chemistry between the leading pair. Bullock and McCarthy do just enough to separate their relationship from every other buddy cop film ever, peppering their constant criticism of each other with a believable friendship that never crosses into corniness.
Despite this, the film lacks the real laugh-out-loud moments that all comedies persistently try to outdo each other with. Most of the film should have you chuckling (much of the physical comedy and the duo's drunken montage come to mind), but never roaring in your seat. What opens on a promising note eventually- or perhaps, inevitably- descends into vapidity, making for a fun and breezy experience during its runtime, but one that loses all rewatchability not long after.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
ParaNorman (2012)
As human as it is hilarious; Paranorman will warm your heart.
Charming, hilarious and deeply human, ParaNorman is everything anyone could ask for in an animated film. Package that with eye-popping animations and a child-friendly story, and the end result proves- without an ounce of rhetoric- that there are still movies out there that can be 'fun for the whole family'.
Eleven-year-old Norman (Kodi Smit-McPhee) is having a hard time fitting in at school. He's reserved, eccentric and he sees dead people. Labelled a freak by his classmates and a burden by his family, Norman spends his days watching Z-grade horrors and adding to his gruesome collection of zombie paraphernalia. When his estranged uncle (a delightful John Goodman)- whom Norman is forbidden from speaking to- warns him of the annual witch's curse, he thinks nothing of it. That is, until the undead rise from their graves and Norman, with his supernatural abilities to contact the grand witch, is the only one who can restore order.
From there, the rest of the film isn't hard to figure out. The outcast must become the hero through pure happenstance, and all the terrified residents of the cleverly-named Blithe Hollow are forced to look at him differently. Meanwhile, all the kiddies learn a valuable lesson about being yourself while mum and dad tag along with fake smiles. The formula is textbook, but co- directors Chris Butler and Sam Fell blend it so seamlessly with the story it feels not only original, but more importantly, real.
As with many animated films, the supporting cast can resemble a case of 'spot that star' more often than not, but bit players Anna Kendrick, Leslie Mann, Casey Affleck, Christopher Mintz- Plasse and Curb Your Enthusiasm's Jeff Garlin all round out their wonderful characters in their own unique ways, contributing enormously to the immersion of a film many might expect overpowered by self-indulgent star power. Ironically, it is the only unknown among the cast, Tucker Albrizzi (TV's Big Time Rush) who steals the show as the dimwitted but headstrong Neil, with a chock-full-of-one-liners performance that effortlessly bridges the inevitable generation gap between viewers.
The whole experience is underscored by Butler's script; a brilliantly satirical, comical and, at times, masterfully subtle showing that pushes ParaNorman into the upper echelon of its genre.
The film's DVD release comes packaged with an UltraViolet copy, allowing viewers to access the film online, on PC and on the mobile. The latest innovation in home release cinema, UV boasts a high-definition improvement over the now-outdated digital copy (although it can be accessed and downloaded in a similarly simplistic manner). Where the latter could only download copies of the film in standard definition, which lead to a noticeable disparity in visual quality between computer copies and their flawless Blu-ray equivalents, UV brings the technology up to speed, resulting in a sharper image most noticeable on smaller screens like those of smart phones.
The innovation pairs up beautifully with ParaNorman's lovingly-crafted animations and enthralling chase sequences. And if visuals play second fiddle to story, just take solace in the fact that you can now get a laugh out of Norm's ignorant grandma wherever you are.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Monsters University (2013)
Scary good.
Those marketing whizzes at Pixar have done it again. Making a great film- which Monsters University undeniably is- is really only half the battle these days. The studio has again showed tremendous patience and foresight to release a follow up to Monsters Inc. only when its original target market was at a stage to fully appreciate it. Think Toy Story 3, but a lot less subtle.
Before they were fully-fledged scarers, Mike and Sully (Billy Crystal and John Goodman, who both slip back into their characters seamlessly) started off just like everyone else: wide-eyed freshmen at the prestigious MU. But while Mike has had to work every day of his life just to gain entry, Sully is less battle-hardened, having ridden the coattails of his family name for years. When a squabble between the pair results in the destruction of a priceless university artefact, Dean Hardscrabble (a wonderfully scathing Helen Mirren) has no choice but to kick them out of the program, and their only hope for re-entry is teaming up with a bunch of rag-taggers and winning the Scare Games.
The beloved animation studio has again served up an excellent mix of child-friendly slapstick and more adult humour, facilitated by a colourful supporting cast and punchy script. Charlie Day's Art, in particular, is a brilliantly crafted character, giving the kiddies plenty of laughs while hinting, ever so deftly, at the stoner culture that comes packaged with the university experience (we all knew one). He is a perfect example of this balance Pixar has built an empire on while elsewhere, newbies John Krasinski and Joel Murray flawlessly complement welcome returnees like Steve Buscemi and John Ratzenberger.
For the keen-eyed viewer, the film is a walk-in wardrobe of Easter eggs and allusions. As soon as you start to get the feeling that an opportunity to bring in an old favourite has gone begging, they pop up in the most unexpected places (wait for the reveal of crusty favourite Roz). The fluidity of the narrative is masterful, too, as MU covers a lot of ground in less than two hours, but never feels flustered, instead taking time to flesh out backstories and relationships in impeccable detail.
The film misses the emotional gut-check of Toy Story 3 and doesn't quite plunder our sympathies like Up, but that isn't the intention here. Tonally, this is a more reserved and, in many ways, more affirming tale; one that assesses the weight of friendship and carries a nice message of determination and believe in oneself trumping all.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
Nothing on Earth (2013)
A transformative powerhouse of a documentary; the hidden gem of the Sydney Film Festival.
Following 2009's short film Salt, in which filmmaker Michael Angus captured landscape photographer Murray Fredericks' harrowing journey to Lake Eyre, the pair have gone bigger and better for their latest collaboration Nothing On Earth, set to debut at this year's Sydney Film Festival.
Not content with merely travelling within his own backyard, Fredericks has set his sights on the Greenland ice caps, giving himself the challenge of capturing resonance in a place devoid of any natural or manmade definition. After a series of failed trips, he enlists the help of an experienced guide and two Inuit dogsledders to brave the wild elements and unforgiving terrain.
The film is beautifully shot, making superb use of expansive shots and time lapse cinematography to accentuate the ironic beauty Fredericks is faced with. Another nice touch is the inclusion of each photo Fredericks takes, giving the viewer a strangely poignant look into the mind of an artist; one devoid of pretension or showmanship, but instead brimming with creativity, inspiration and self-criticism.
Fredericks' boundless energy and commitment when exercising his passion remains at the forefront, even when things look most bleak, but it is his interaction with the people around him- complete strangers determined to help him meet his goal- that gives the film warmth. The highlight is without doubt the group's discovery of a long-abandoned Cold War relic: a monolithic live-in structure designed to thwart foreign assaults. Following the war, the building was swiftly abandoned, and within it lay thousands of remnants of a time long gone.
It is this surreal trip through the structure that neatly ties together the film's underlying theme of bonded humanity, cleverly disguised as the most intriguing of history lessons.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*
World War Z (2013)
Killin' it.
About six weeks ago, I was invited to a fifteen-minute sneak peek of World War Z, an allegedly troubled project from the usually untouchable actor-producer, Brad Pitt, and underrated director Marc Forster (Monster's Ball, Stranger Than Fiction, Quantum of Solace). Given the buzz- or lack thereof- I was understandably tentative, but was quickly sucked in by the film's grand scale and penchant for genuine horror. Having seen the finished product, the matter is no longer up for debate; World War Z is unlike any film of its genre before it. Endlessly marketed as another snooze fest holiday blockbuster, it is actually a taut, engrossing thrill ride seasoned with merciless, edge-of-your-seat terror, the likes of which haven't graced the big screen for a long time.
Pitt plays Gerry Lane, a former UN representative who gets called back into work courtesy of a virus that has rapidly turned most of the earth's population into a soulless, superhuman race of ravenous zombies. In his worldwide search for answers, Lane faces all comers head-on in an environment that would compel even the most reckless Marine to bail with a resounding 'Nope!' before word of the outbreak hits the evening news.
Virtually every supporting character is useless, from Lane's inconvenient wife to his irritating children, but it doesn't even matter. Pitt carries the film with a grounded performance, crafting a rational, believable character that so deftly toes the line between the invincible action hero and the out-of-his-element everyman. Forster made the right decision injecting a main character instead of following the scattered journal entry format of Max Brooks' novel, giving the film the accessibility it needs to be successful without resembling a carbon copy of every blockbuster this side of the 3D revolution.
And it is on that point that World War Z excels. Anyone expecting a fun but forgettable romp ablaze with heavy artillery and indiscriminate loss of life is likely to cop a pleasant shock.
This is not to suggest that the film doesn't cater to the mass market. On the contrary, each set piece just gets progressively more ambitious, making a glowing spectacle of the film's $200 million budget, but it is the moments of deathly silence that are most effective and, ironically, most likely to turn the event into a holistic cinema experience; one in which you and 300 fellow viewers can uniformally share your inner cowardice amidst nervous laughter and clenched fists, jaws and many other parts of the human anatomy. Here is a film that has grabbed every potential setback by the scruff of the neck, thrown it across the room with the force of an undead army, and nonchalantly delivered a jaw-dropping masterclass in suspense for its troubles.
*There's nothing I love more than a bit of feedback, good or bad. So drop me a line on [email protected] and let me know what you thought of my review. If you're looking for a writer for your movie website or other publication, I'd also love to hear from you.*