Moonrise Kingdom [Wes Anderson, 2012]

The New England Island of New Penzance is a virtual prison to twelve-year-old orphan and Khaki Scout Sam Shakusky (Jared Gilman). So naturally he wants to escape. So too does troubled youngster Suzy Bishop (Kara Hayward). Armed with a record player, a book-filled suitcase, Suzy’s lefty-scissors and Sam’s scouting skills, they set off on a cross-island adventure pursued by Suzy’s parents (Bill Murray and Frances McDormand), Sam’s scout master (Edward Norton) and New Penzance’s lone policeman (Bruce Willis).

Wes Anderson’s latest offering will not change anybody’s opinion of the director. Those who welcome his films like a hole in the head will surely feel the same way about Moonrise Kingdom. However, for those who delight in Anderson’s off-the-wall skewing of life within close communities, there is much to enjoy.

Re-moulding the fugitive couple genre (think Badlands, Bonnie and Clyde, even perhaps Natural Born Killers) into the shape of a twee fairytale (the film has more than a hint of Peter Pan about it), Anderson continues to turn genre on its head. The love story between two nearly-teens is touching if, at times, a little uncomfortable, but fits perfectly within Anderson’s world of dysfunctional, childish adults who frequently behave as if they are not much older than the children they are supposed to be looking after.

Filled with the dry humour, absurd imagery and dead-pan performances that we’ve come to expect from an Anderson film, Moonrise Kingdom is both funny and touching and stands up well against the director’s previous films.

To hear what the rest of our team though of Moonrise Kingdom listen to Episode 18 of our podcast.

Review by Rick Wallace

If you liked this, you might like:
The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou [Wes Anderson, 2004]
Napoleon Dynamite [Jared Hess, 2004]
Badlands [Terrence Malick, 1973]

Review: John Carter [Andrew Stanton, 2012]

Arizona, 1868. Renegade Confederate captain-turned-gold-prospector John Carter (Taylor Kitsch) is whisked from the American West and deposited on the plains of Mars (or, as the indigenes call it, “Barsoom”), where different gravitational circumstances mean that he can leap tall buildings in a single bound and has increased physical strength. He becomes embroiled in a battle between the planet’s two leading city states, Helium and Zodanga. Zodanga, you see, has had bestowed upon it a mysterious weapon by sinisterly smocked cosmic entities, who intend to use this awesome power to destroy Earth once they have seen to the destruction of Barsoom. Can Carter and Helium’s Princess Dejah (Lynn Collins) save the day, or will our planet be next?

Based on Edgar Rice Burroughs’ enormously influential Barsoom series of novels (taking most of its material from the first book, A Princess of Mars, which was published in 1912), John Carter has the unenviable task of arriving in cinemas decades after wildly successful films that have been influenced by its story, the most famous examples being the Star Wars films and Avatar. Enormously pulpy, this new film –which transposes a civil war Western narrative onto to the red planet – displays a commendable and honest innocence rather than what might have been the easier, nostalgic option. This, then, is a true adventure movie rather than a pastiche of one. It always places its jaw-dropping special effects at the service of its story, which is told in a considered and classical manner (it’s a joy to see an action-heavy film with such long takes). There is a vein of humour, albeit one that is integrated into the film’s narrative – never does the film halt its impressive momentum in the interests of providing a joke. This can also be said of the action sequences, which never last too long and always carry considerable dramatic weight. Finally, it also pulls off the rather impressive task of being a film with a story that hinges upon rescuing a princess (Lynn Collins) that isn’t sexist.

There have been some strong adventure films in the past few years (The Adventures of Tintin was a particular highpoint) that at times recall the best of their genre. John Carter is different. It’s so accomplished that it doesn’t need to recall anything.

Review by Owen Weetch.

If you liked this, you might like:
Raiders of the Lost Ark [Steven Spielberg, 1981]
Star Wars [George Lucas, 1977]
Tarzan [Chris Buck & Kevin Lima, 1999]

Review: This Means War [McG, 2012]

Best friends FDR (Chris Pine) and Tuck (Tom Hardy) are spies who are taken out of the field when they cause a bit too much mayhem in pursuit of international crook Heinrich (Til Schweiger). During their enforced hiatus, they end up falling for the same woman, Lauren (Reese Witherspoon). A competition for her hand ensues, as the two men put their friendship on the line trying to win the battle for her affection. Meanwhile, Heinrich plots his revenge…

This Means War is, without equivocation, terrible. Shoddily directed and written, it is an action comedy thriller that is not funny or exciting. The action sequences are loud and lifeless, and the script fails to marry its two competing plot strands (spy competition and revenge plot) in a satisfactory manner. Witherspoon, Pine and Hardy are given nothing to work with here, and emerge as shrill, smug and feeble respectively. Aside from committing the most heinous crime of being boring (a more appropriate title might have been This Means Snore), This Means War is also offensive to the entire human race. Not only is using men for sex held up as the ultimate victory of the women’s movement, men are shown to be incapable of friendship when they’re not killing people and blowing things up. Unsexy, unfunny, boring, offensive, unpleasant and creepy (and not in a good way), This Means War is not worth your time or money.

Hear the rest of the team’s thoughts on This Means War in Episode 14 of our podcast.

Review by Greg Frame.

If you liked this, you might like:
Charlie’s Angels [McG, 2000]
Notorious [Alfred Hitchcock, 1946]
Spy Hard [Rick Friedberg, 1996]

Review: Hugo [Martin Scorsese, 2011]

Paris,  1931. 12-year-old orphan Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield) lives unnoticed in the walls of Montmartre train station. He is hard at work attempting to repair a broken automaton, in the belief that when completed, it will present to him a message from his father (Jude Law), who left Hugo the mechanism before he died. In his attempts, Hugo will cross paths with a lugubrious old toy-seller (Ben Kingsley) and forge a strong friendship with his goddaughter, Isabelle (Chloe Grace Moretz), both of whom seem in some way connected to the mechanical man that Hugo has for long kept hidden away….

Hugo is a visually sumptuous love letter to early cinema. It’s expert in the way it teases its big reveal while maintaining a sense of spectacle throughout. The locales are gorgeously stylised, given a remarkable tactility and sense of immersion through a judicious use of the stereoscopic effect. While it is a spectacular film, it is also a considerably melancholy one, a tale that harks back to a cinephilia it both reignites and elegises. The film is also populated by broken and lost characters: there’s the famed filmmaker reduced to selling toys, the orphaned children, and the lonely Station Inspector (Sasha Baron Cohen), his leg permanently damaged in the war. The 3D contributes to this sadness, its accentuation of presence investing close-ups with added sensitivity. This, however, grants the film’s paean to the escapism of the cinema more power in contrast, so that the film arrives at a considerable emotional climax. I would argue that Hugo is a more nuanced film than the charming pastiche that is The Artist [Michel Hazanavicius, 2011], in that it both provides and investigates the pleasures that constitute the social mechanism of the cinema. It revels in the joy of, as one character puts it, “seeing your dreams in the middle of the day.”

Hear the rest of the team’s thoughts on Hugo in Episode 9 of our podcast.

Review by Owen Weetch.

If you liked this, you might like:
Cinema Paradiso [Giuseppe Tornatore, 1989]
Fanny & Alexander [Ingmar Bergman, 1982]
The Spirit of the Beehive [Víctor Erice, 1973]

Review: Shame [Steve McQueen, 2011]

Brandon (Michael Fassbender) is a sex addict living in New York. His life is suddenly disrupted when his troubled sister Sissy (Carey Mulligan) comes to stay with him indefinitely. Her presence prompts him to confront his addiction, as living with his compulsion becomes a descent into hell.

Shame is not an easy watch. In addressing a problem which is largely unacknowledged in wider culture, McQueen has delivered a beautiful, painful and unremitting meditation on the nature of addiction. Fassbender is superb as Brandon, a brooding and tragic figure, and Mulligan is similarly tortured as sister Sissy. The sparse dialogue and stylistic audacity enable these superb performances to shine through. Occasionally, this artistry does tip over into self-indulgence and, while I cannot fault the film as a technical achievement, it does lack emotional impact. There are also some dubious political messages in the film which further detract from its other achievements, but overall this is a genuinely interesting (if not at all enjoyable) piece of work.

To hear what the rest of the team thought about the film, listen to Episode 12 of the podcast.

Review by Greg Frame

If you liked this, you might like:

Taxi Driver [Martin Scorcese, 1976]
American Psycho [Mary Harron, 2000]
Hunger [Steve McQueen, 2008]

Review: The Artist [Michel Hazanavicius, 2011]

George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) is a huge silent movie star, but the arrival of synchronised sound means his days at the top of the tree are numbered. As his star wanes, Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo), the actress to whom he gave a break, is on the rise, and she takes to talkies like a duck to water. With nobody hiring old silent stars, George becomes dejected and forlorn, and falls into poverty. Will the arrival of sound spell the end of George’s career, or will his relationship with Peppy enable him to have one last hurrah?

 A reverent and loving homage to silent cinema, The Artist is a rare creation: a pastiche which never descends into suffocating self-referentiality. Jean Dujardin is excellent as George, ably conveying the agony of being rendered obsolete by the technological shift to sound, and he is supported wonderfully by the lovely Berenice Bejo and his faithful dog (Uggie). It also has a faultless script which shows acute awareness of the form and visual language of silent cinema, making this is a worthy awards contender. A paean to an artform no longer with us, The Artist is nostalgic without being melancholy and, despite being a pastiche, feels genuinely fresh and innovative.

To hear what the rest of the team thought about the film, have a listen to Episode 12 of our podcast.

Review by Greg Frame

If you liked this, you might like:
Singin’ in the Rain [Stanley Donen, 1952]
All About Eve [Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1950]
Silent Movie [Mel Brooks, 1976]

Review: The Descendants [Alexander Payne, 2011]

Matt King (George Clooney) is a lawyer and wealthy land-owner living in the supposedly idyllic archipelago of Hawaii. However, his wife falls into a coma after a water-skiing accident, and he is suddenly forced to re-evaluate his life after it emerges she was having an affair with a local estate agent (Matthew Lillard). Having never devoted much time to the duty of fatherhood, Matt now has to help his two daughters, Alexandra (Shailene Woodley) and Scottie (Amara Miller) come to terms with this tragedy, and learn to be a family again.

The Descendants is another typically bittersweet offering from Alexander Payne, director of Sideways, About Schmidt and Election. Not as scabrous as his previous efforts, The Descendants is sentimental without ever becoming mawkish, delivering a tender exploration of the importance of family, heritage and togetherness. The film both fulfils and confounds expectations of Hawaii, presenting it as simultaneously an untouched paradise and a concrete hole. The writing is similarly nuanced: the characters are rich and detailed, the story is moving and funny. Clooney is excellent as King, and has received deserved acclaim for his performance. Highly recommended.

To hear what the rest of the team thought about the film, have a listen to Episode 12 of the podcast.

Review by Greg Frame

If you liked this, you might like:
Sideways [Alexander Payne, 2004]
Forgetting Sarah Marshall [Nick Stoller, 2008]
American Beauty [Sam Mendes, 1999]

Review: The Iron Lady [Phyllida Lloyd, 2011]

Ageing, alone, and held in virtual captivity as she battles against dementia, Margaret Thatcher (Meryl Streep) imagines that her dead husband Denis (Jim Broadbent) is still alive, causing her to reflect back on her life and in particular the time when she was The Iron Lady.

Whatever your thoughts about Margaret Thatcher’s politics may be, the fact remains that she was a great woman, with firm beliefs, who possessed the courage to make strong decisions and stand by them. To be sure, there is a great film to be made about Thatcher. Sadly this isn’t it.

The film’s dual focus on Thatcher’s as Prime Minister and the more speculative modern day dementia-ridden old woman means that the film veers between eras, not allowing either the time or the space to breathe. The result is a film that is neither a meditation on loneliness, nor a reflection of what made Thatcher tick during her peak years. Nor is it even a ‘greatest hits’ rundown of the Thatcher era as so much is left out, including almost the entirety of her second term in government. Indeed the script portrays her as being, in private, an emotionally frail woman who struggles with some of her decisions, something I suspect is far from the truth and in many ways strips her of her strongest characteristics at the expense of trying to engage an audience through emotion and empathy.

Streep’s portrayal of Thatcher is uncanny, and will surely win an Oscar, but when a film-length impression is the most discussion-worthy aspect of what could have been a dense and challenging film, you’re just setting yourself up for disappointment.

To hear what the rest of the team thought about the film, have a listen to Episode 11 of our podcast.

Review by Rick Wallace

If you liked this, you might like:
Margaret Thatcher: Long Walk to Finchley [TV] [Great Meadow Productions, 2008]
Thatcher: The Final Days [TV] [Granada Television, 1991]
W. [Oliver Stone, 2008]

Review: The Woman in Black [James Watkins, 2012]

Recently widowed lawyer Arthur Kipps (Daniel Radcliffe) is dispatched from London to the North East, to settle the account of the deceased owner of Eel Marsh house. Despite being given a frosty reception upon arrival in the local village, he perseveres with his job at the house, much to the chagrin of local residents. He slowly uncovers the dark history of the owners of the house, and the curse of a ghost that haunts them – a veiled woman in black.  

The first film released in the Hammer  revival was the decidedly lacklustre Let Me In [Matt Reeves, 2010].  On viewing that film I was concerned that the company had forgotten its roots in chilling, jumpy and occasionally silly Gothic horror. The Woman in Black delivered on all these scores. A good old-fashioned ghosty romp, it scares its audiences without disgusting, shocking or titillating. It is actually a relief to see a horror that doesn’t do these things.

The story itself is classically simple, and Jane Goldman’s script treatment is judicious, making full use of sound effects in the place of needless expository dialogue. The set design  is similarly well done. There is none of the creakiness of traditional Hammer -which may disappoint die-hard fans – but the film retains the requisite  dark corners and spooky props. Radcliffe, too, eschews the wooden performances both of traditional Hammer horror and of the Harry Potter franchise. He is good, though his youthful looks do make it difficult to suspend disbelief that he is the father of a four-year-old.

Overall, an effective spooky film, and hopefully a sign of good things to come from the Hammer reboot.

Review by Hannah Andrews

If you like this, you might like:
The Devil Rides Out [Terence Fisher, 1968] or any Hammer horror
The Ring [Gore Verbinski, 2002]
The Others [Alejandro Amenábar, 2001]

Review: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo [David Fincher, 2011]

 

Disgraced journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig) is hired by wealthy industrialist Henrik Vanger (Christopher Plummer) to investigate the disappearance of his niece, an event that happened almost 40 years previously.  Working together with young researcher Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara), a ward of the state due to her troubled upbringing, Blomkvist delves deeper into the Vanger family secrets, and discovers that the conspiracy is more intricate and far-reaching than he could have anticipated.

David Fincher’s re-adaptation of Steig Larsson’s novel marks a return to the dark thriller genre in which he made his name.  The film deftly works through its elements of mystery and intrigue in its first act, but when the two protagonists eventually meet it becomes apparent that the behaviour and interactions of the characters soon grow to be more intriguing and arresting than the plot itself, and in a way this seems to be part of the attraction of the film.  It is at times brutal and horrific (especially in its sexual violence), but this is not excessive or unnecessarily gratuitous, and Fincher demonstrates a level of restraint that works to the film’s advantage.  Reuniting with some of the key creative members of The Social Network [2010], he crafts a terse, tense, and engaging thriller.  Central to the film’s success is the manner in which this American film arguably feels more Scandinavian than the original, in part due to its superior production values.  This is reflected in the stylish, evocative production design and Jeff Cronenweth’s bleak digital cinematography, together creating a more fully realised environment that immerses the viewer within the story.  This atmosphere is complemented by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’s brooding electronic score, with one of the highlights being the delightfully disturbing opening credits.

The character of Lisbeth Salander is a fierce ball of energy, a sociopath paradoxically aware of her own insanity, and Mara’s fearless performance is stunning in both its intensity and the way in which she conceals and reveals layers of her own internal psyche.  The sense of raw threat that she exudes seems to be softened by her relationship with Blomkvist, and this dynamic is key to the film; Craig’s character does not simply act as the strong, masculine protectionary figure, and it is apparent that Salander can fight her own battles, empowered by her own flaws, her individuality, and her intelligence.

Where the film underwhelms somewhat is in its lengthy epilogue, not because it clumsily attempts to set up a sequel, but simply because it rambles on for too long and accelerates the pace in order to tie up loose ends.  Some may argue that this material is not a test of Fincher’s talents, that he is not pushing himself to the same degree that he has with his previous killer-thrillers Seven [1995] and Zodiac [2007], but he proves here that he is able to craft a superior character-based drama almost effortlessly, sustaining a level of intensity and coherence over a work of this breadth and depth.

To hear what the rest of the team thought about the film, have a listen to Episode 11 of our podcast.

Review by Adam Gallimore

If you liked this, you might like:
Insomnia [Christopher Nolan, 2002]
The Silence of the Lambs [Jonathan Demme, 1991]
Zodiac [David Fincher, 2007]