Film Intel

Drug War - Online Review

'as your typical collection of stereotyped 'drug family' characters show up, you wonder quite how much thought has gone into Drug War'

Nominated in several categories for the OFCS Awards, I can honestly say I would not have heard of Drug War had it not been for the OFCS' collective passion for Johnnie To's film. I cannot, in fact, profess any knowledge of the man himself, despite him clearly having a passionate fanbase and a spectacular production-line work ethic, with some 45 listed releases since 1990 (or 45 films in 23 years, if you want to be really impressed).

To's genre appears to mainly be the stylised police thriller and Drug War's kitsch title and simplistic plot provides evidence that he's not overly concerned with pushing boundaries from a concept point of view. Happening upon a break in a big drugs case, Captain Zhang (Honglei Sun) enters into a fragile alliance with drug cooker Timmy Choi (Louis Koo), just escaped from his exploding factory. As Zhang pushes his team to follow Choi to the top of the drug ladder it's less clear who's controlling who and just how equipped Zhang is for what's around the corner.

Whilst there are few surprises to come from that setup, To does craft an occasionally tense film with some nice set pieces and smaller quirks that lend the film character. Zhang's near-obligatory bout of undercover drug taking isn't greeted with a few hours of cold turkey, but a mad dash to get the captain ship shape and keep him alive, made all the more fraught by the fact that it is Choi giving the life-saving directions.

Meanwhile, Choi's underling drug workers aren't your normal lunk-heads, but two mute brothers, in a rare show of disabled characters being present in a film where their disability is not the subject, nor a factor which limits their involvement in the plot. Far from it actually: Li Jing and Tao Guo's characters prove a highlight, kicking off the final third of action with a riotous defence of their distribution hub.

The problems with the plot though become more and more apparent as the film moves into its final motions. Undercover and playing another character, Zhang takes control of the original character's port, ordering ships around like he owns the place. Considering this not to be the case, wouldn't someone at the well-manned and presumably thoroughly corrupt port have asked him quite what he was doing pretending to be someone he is clearly not? It's a minor problem, but as your typical collection of stereotyped 'drug family' characters show up, you wonder quite how much thought has gone into Drug War.

Eventually, To's film builds to the kind of final fight where the best anyone can hope for is several grievous bullet wounds and a walk-on part in the next Tarantino. Like that director though, To's film is open to accusations of a fanboy-like reliance on blood and guts and limited quality focus on character or plot. Final ballet of gunfire dispensed with, To's film ends, leaving that familiar and slightly unsatisfying taste in the mouth that hints at a director more concerned with putting you through an unsavoury ordeal than crafting something of quality. There's still fun in a journey like that but an awards worthy offering? I'm unconvinced.

By Sam Turner. Sam is editor of Film Intel, and can usually be found behind a keyboard with a cup of tea. He likes entertaining films and dislikes the other kind. He's on Google+, Twitter and several places even he doesn't yet know about.

World War Z - Blu-ray Review

'If zombies are always a metaphor then, then at least Forster maintains the book's treatment of them as indicative of a world which might be about to tear itself apart via isolation, competition and deliberate misunderstanding.'

Popular wisdom dictates that there is very little similarity between World War Z the book and World War Z the film and, indeed, at least in the plotting and character stakes, save for a few quite minor points, that proves the case.

Look slightly closer though and there is at least a smattering of a thematic link. One of the main things I took from the book was not necessarily the fanboy-like obsession with postulating on how nations would cope with a zombie uprising but rather that, amongst a quite cynical world, it was a novel in which the central problem was solved, eventually, by nations clubbing together. Maybe WWZ the film doesn't quite make that fact as plain as Max Brooks' novel does, but Marc Forster's film at least has it in the background. I don't think it's an accident that a Spanish-speaking family are the first to shelter Gerry Lane (Brad Pitt) and family, whilst later they reside on a US boat with a constant threat of being kicked off it. The enemy may be closer than it appears.

If zombies are always a metaphor then, then at least Forster maintains the book's treatment of them as indicative of a world which might be about to tear itself apart via isolation, competition and deliberate misunderstanding. Gerry's globe-hopping might seem to take place with the speed of a Harry Potter flight but it at least partially maintains the book's feeling of travelling everywhere on a comprehensive research project.

That is, until, Forster arrives at his much-disputed end, which feels like it is from a different film, namely: Resident Evil. Having so successfully, in the main, managed to craft something which takes us to a myriad of places, to finish up once again in white clinical corridors, face-to-face with individual zombies, feels like not only a miss-step but something of a real error.

It was always going to be difficult to draw a line under this - especially if the mooted sequel is to arise - but doing so in this way feels borderline crazy and distinctly unsatisfying. Still, for arguably one of the most 'unfilmable' books out there, a messy end, a ballooning budget and on-set arguments aren't too bad going, for a film at least semi-satisfying.

Trailer Of The Week - Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes

In the battle of the really well done teaser trailers last week, Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes takes the win over Godzilla by way of the fact that there's just no contest between the cast of each film. Elizabeth Olsen might contain Godzilla's promise, but her backup is Aaron Taylor-Johnson, whose ability to sell himself as a mega-hard military man is still somewhat lacking. Meanwhile, the Planet Of The Apes film with the impossibly long title has Gary Oldman and Jason Clarke, both of whom look moody, fire weapons and shout. Flawless victory.

The Purge - DVD Review

'There's essentially no set up here, no world building, no reason to invest or believe in the ideas DeMonaco presents.'

Something of an oddity amongst major contemporary releases, where breaking the two-hour mark increasingly seems like it is a badge of honour, box office success The Purge clocks in at just eighty-five minutes.

This welcome change would be even more welcome if it wasn't the most notable thing about James DeMonaco's film. The Purge might be brave in its slight runtime, well paced and tightly conceived, but that, I'm afraid, is where all of the value here ends.

'The book' on The Purge is that it is a good idea, executed poorly. In a way, that seems true but the execution is so poor, it actually manages to damage the idea. We're in a world where things were so bad before that it became necessary to have an annual 'purge', where people are allowed to spend an evening killing their neighbour. All very well, but where are the signs of that world? There's essentially no set up here, no world building, no reason to invest or believe in the ideas DeMonaco presents.

This, in turn, spreads to the rest of the film. Very quickly, having decided he isn't interested in exploring the central conceit, or the world, DeMonaco decides that he may as well just make a standard home invasion film. Is there any point to placing this in the world of 'the purge', which essentially ends up merely acting as an excuse for another masked band of invaders to pursue the protagonists? Cut out the preamble of the opening fifteen minutes or so and there is nothing whatsoever here to say that this has any more invention than previous average-to-poor home invasion Horror efforts.

Once DeMonaco has decided that this is what he wants his film to be, it's not as though The Purge excels here either. A few tense moments help to keep you invested in the plight of James and Mary Sandin (Ethan Hawke and Lena Headey) but too often, what goes on is poorly executed and very recycled. The traditional spectacularly stupid actions of the characters, who split up and reform more regularly than Boyzone, doesn't help to endear them to you and children Charlie (Max Burkholder) and Zoey (Adelaide Kane) have nothing about them worth remembering.

There is, I'm sure, a good idea here somewhere, but it's gone in a flash, a bit like the rest of The Purge.

Nativity 2: Danger In The Manger! - DVD Review

'Mr. Poppy still grates every moment he’s on screen, but is now presented as both moderately sociopathic and disturbingly obsessed with absent former teacher Paul Maddens'

After departing from arguably the most successful tenure as the BBC’s resident Timelord since Tom Baker donned a fedora and elongated scarf, David Tennant’s big screen career hasn’t taken off in quite the way many had predicted. Whilst both his TV and stage plaudits have continued to grow and flourish, by contrast Tennant has barely made an impact either in Hollywood or in homegrown cinema, with only a couple of voice roles and a part in 2011’s poorly received Fright Night remake in the last few years. But, despite his lifetime membership of the “national treasure” club thanks to being the Tenth Doctor, Tennant needs to be a bit more careful when presented with roles in films like Nativity 2: Danger In The Manger! - it’s utter tripe like this that could knock his career seriously off-kilter for good.

Having brought us the unquestionably dodgy Nativity! in 2009, director Debbie Isitt apparently went ahead with this sequel without actually having any good ideas to put in it. In its opening moments, Nativity 2 sets out its flimsy structure and ludicrous plot that could be jotted down on the back of a Christmas cracker joke (which, incidentally, would be the closest this script could ever get to a laugh) as the film’s main concept is exposited through a primary school child reading aloud from a local newspaper. If you don’t recognise this as a clear forewarning of the very lowest level of craftsmanship Isitt will continually achieve throughout the rest of her film, then quite frankly you and Nativity 2 deserve each other.

Prepubescents appreciating the local press turns out to be just the first of many clues that Isitt’s film inhabits some warped version of our world, which on the surface may look very familiar but actually suspends all forms of basic logic, legal ramifications of characters’ actions, and indeed the possibility of anything being even remotely entertaining.

At the centre of this twisted world is repulsive man-child classroom assistant Desmond Poppy (Marc Wootton). Mr. Poppy firmly established himself as one of the most galling film characters of recent years in Nativity!, but Wootton and Isitt manage to take their creation to a whole new level here. Mr. Poppy still grates every moment he’s on screen, but is now presented as both moderately sociopathic and disturbingly obsessed with absent former teacher Paul Maddens, Martin Freeman’s character from the first film. The fact that Wootton’s character is in a position of responsibility, taking charge of young children throughout the film, might be intended to be funny but in reality is morbidly terrifying.

Isitt’s choice to make her film “improvised” - that is, shot without a completed script, directing the actors to make it up as they go along without informing them of where the story is headed - oozes from the film like sewage from a blocked drain. As Tennant and Wootton amble around the Welsh countryside with a group of primary school kids in Christmas fancy dress, a stolen donkey and an abandoned baby in tow, you’ll wonder just who involved in making Nativity 2 ever thought any of this was a good idea. It was around the time Mr. Poppy leads the group into a cave only to break into song about his paternal abandonment issues whilst playing a ukulele (really, this happens) that I lost all patience with all aspects of Isitt’s comprehensively condemnable film.

By Ben Broadribb. Ben is a regular contributor to Film Intel, having previously written at Some Like It Hot Fuzz. He is normally seen in the wild wearing t-shirts containing obscure film references. He is a geek, often unashamedly so. He's also on Google+ and Twitter.

Merry Christmas, from Film Intel (and Mola Ram)

It's Christmas so it's time once again to roll out a poorly photoshopped but nonetheless entertaining picture of Mola Ram getting all festive. Remember: this Christmas, extracting hearts with your bare hands is entirely optional.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you and your family: enjoy the festivities!

Percy Jackson: Sea Of Monsters - DVD Review

'The lingering whiff of Potter is just the start of the film’s problems.'

In many ways, it’s hard not to see 2010’s Percy Jackson And The Lightning Thief as being created with the hope of filling the Daniel Radcliffe-shaped hole that was to appear on the cinematic horizon a year later. In hindsight, however, there are changes and omissions from Rick Riordan’s source novel that were clearly made at least in part to reduce the inevitable comparisons between Percy Jackson and Harry Potter. It therefore seems strange (or maybe just lazy) that Marc Guggenheim’s screenplay for Percy Jackson: Sea Of Monsters would ignore this, often electing to make the Jackson/Potter comparison more apparent than ever.

What this means is that Sea Of Monsters essentially feels like a poor man’s Harry Potter film pretty much from start to finish. Percy (Logan Lerman), along with companions Annabeth (Alexandra Daddario) and Grover (Brandon T. Jackson), sets out on a quest to save the day against the wishes of his Olympian mentors. In case this is sounding all too familiar, that’s because it is. There’s a mystical taxi journey that is incredibly reminiscent of both Chamber Of Secret’s flying car and Prisoner Of Azkaban’s Knight Bus, a ride on a mythical beast that may as well be a tribute to the Potter films’ Hippogriff scenes, not to mention antagonist Kronos who has more than a little in common with He Who Must Not Be Named.

The lingering whiff of Potter is just the start of the film’s problems. The first act is a jumble of hurriedly reintroducing elements left out of the first film, exposition-heavy plot set-up and CGI-heavy action sequences. From there, this soon becomes little more than a less engaging retread of what The Lightning Thief offered. There’s some inventive use of Ancient Greek mythology transposed to the modern day here and there, but matters quickly become a woefully episodic MacGuffin quest that we’re never given much reason to care about. It doesn’t help that this often seems all too easy for Percy and company - two separate fights against fairly formidable-looking foes are wrapped up disappointingly quickly and with remarkable ease. A subplot alongside this involving the group adjusting to the arrival of Percy’s cycloptic half-brother Tyson (Douglas Smith) never becomes anything more than an underdeveloped and predictable moral about prejudice and acceptance.

Director Thor Freudenthal’s film also never gets over the massive cast losses suffered from Chris Columbus’ Lightning Thief. Absent from the first film are the likes of Sean Bean, Pierce Brosnan, Steve Coogan, Rosario Dawson, Catherine Keener and Uma Thurman. All Sea Of Monsters can muster to fill the gap is Nathan Fillion in an all-too-brief cameo and Stanley Tucci as Dionysus, a character omitted from the first film and brought back here to do absolutely nothing of interest or worth. Anthony Head takes over from Brosnan in the role of Chiron but sadly never manages to match the performance of his predecessor.

The performances from the central trio are fine, and arguably better than in their first outing. However, the fact that Lerman, Daddario and Jackson all look too old for their teenage roles already is also regularly quite distracting - if not all that surprising, with the three actors now aged twenty-one, twenty-seven and twenty-nine respectively. At least Daniel Radcliffe made it to around film five before looking a bit out of place.

It’s a shame to say that the Percy Jackson franchise feels as though it’s run out of steam almost entirely only two films in. With a raft of books by Riordan still to be adapted (a third film is already in production with Freudenthal in the director’s chair once again) the best that can be hoped for is that the major problems already materialising in this potentially promising franchise are identified and repaired, allowing the series to move towards something much better than what Sea Of Monsters has to offer.

12 Years A Slave - Cinema Review

'McQueen seems to get something from his actors other directors haven't or can't. Fassbender's swaggering sweaty, near-mad plantation owner, Epps, is a vision in Southern hatred and primitive excess.'

You can forgive Chiwetel Ejiofor for being nervous approaching 12 Years A Slave. Many observers will focus on the bravery required for an emotionally raw performance, in a film concerned with slavery, a subject which still, so popular opinion goes, American cinema in particular has a hard time facing up to. Not only that though but consider the fact that Ejiofor is here inserting himself in-between two of the best collaborators in contemporary cinema; director Steve McQueen and actor Michael Fassbender who, so far with Hunger and, in particular, Shame are two-for-two. Not only that: they're two-for-two in some style.

The fact then that 12 Years A Slave is a resounding, if not absolute, success, and that Ejiofor delivers one of the performances of the year, is something significant. Though Fassbender features prominently (and brilliantly), this is Ejiofor's film and in the role of Solomon Northup he is astoundingly good. Convincing in both Northup's Northern home and when in captivity; bereft of hope, dignity and friends, Ejiofor exudes sympathy without having to plead for it. We are along for Northup's journey, we feel the injustice, the malignant disgusting thread of constant racially driven threat and so much more, and we feel it all through Ejiofor.

Rightly, the actor will get the plaudits, but there are signs here that McQueen might be more of a master craftsman at performance than he has been given credit for. Yes, the director can do visuals, that much is obvious, and the performers on their own are no doubt skilled, but with three actors in particular here (Ejiofor, Fassbender and Benedict Cumberbatch) McQueen seems to get something other directors haven't or can't. Fassbender's swaggering sweaty, near-mad plantation owner, Epps, is a vision in Southern hatred and primitive excess. There's an idea that, to Epps, his slaves are similar to a live soap opera, played out by his directorial hand and through battles with his wife, whilst he manipulates the human pieces to horrible dramas and repugnant acts. A late scene with Brad Pitt is revelatory. Fassbender is someone else; some white devil barfed up by the rum-swilling, sun-stroked bowels of hell. Brad Pitt is Brad Pitt.

Meanwhile, Cumberbatch - an actor who has not until now managed to progress through a film without bellowing something from the broad depths of his tonsils, mistaking volume for presence - is also transformed. In McQueen's hands he becomes a meek, perhaps even kind, plantation owner, addressing the wrong social norms with as much grace as he can muster. Still though, at his core and through Cumberbatch's performance, the character is a Southern White racist, lacking the willpower, or the need, to change anything. If you want to see many of these characters as broad archetypal approaches to slavery at various historical points then feel free; I don't think the potential to do so is there accidentally.

This though makes the arrival of one Mr Pitt all the more frustrating. Practically galloping in on white steed, from the liberality so far North it's called Canada, lance in hand to slay the dragon, Pitt doesn't fit. He's archetypal in the wrong way; he stands out by deed, by intention and by the fact that he's Brad Pitt. The arrival of the character is, apparently, faithful to the text, but there were better ways to introduce him than this and more suitable, subtle actors to cast.

If that is a minor irritation, present only come the finale, then the major one is not something which is here, but something which is not. Steve McQueen makes beautiful films and 12 Years A Slave is a beautiful film, but more than that, Hunger and, again, particularly Shame were beautiful standouts because they were different and innovative; they pushed cinema in a new direction and seeing it happen felt revelatory. Perhaps it's unfair to expect to see that again here but nevertheless, something is missing. Noticeably, McQueen has reigned in his long takes, save for one shocking scene. I wanted more; Solomon's raft ride, the final departure from Epps', picking cotton - I could have taken all of these at more than twice their length and, for a film covering 12 years, I could have taken more than the one hundred and thirty four minute total runtime. Perhaps that is, in a way, praise for just how good McQueen is but, nevertheless, it means his film feels just a small amount short of greatness.

12 Years A Slave is released in UK cinemas on Friday 10th January 2014.

Trailer Of The Week - Week #52 - After Lucia

After Lucia, my film of the Leeds International Film Festival, is now available on Lovefilm Instant and, if you've not seen it yet, it's well worth heading over there to give it a look. A gut-wrenching examination of a teenage life heading in the wrong direction after a tragedy, it's difficult but very necessary watching, a brave look at high school, providing the antithesis of a film like Mean Girls. A word of advice though, somewhat at odds with Trailer Of The Week: avoid the trailers, which bizarrely all seem to include the start of the film's pivotal final act. Settle instead for the below clip, which is much less spoilery.

Classic Intel: Scarface - Cinema Review

'shuns the conventionally dark and monochrome style of the gangster genre for a luridly multicoloured palette that reflects the excesses and commercialism of both the characters and their 1980s Miami surroundings'

It’s all too easy to allow yourself to get swept away when watching Scarface by its now iconic status and the infamous scenes and lines littered throughout. Brian De Palma’s direction oozes style and charisma just as much as its star Al Pacino in the title role, charming you every step of the way through his three hour gangster epic. But just like any other film - iconic or otherwise - Scarface deserves to be fully and honestly critiqued, rather than given a free pass to classic status because of its striking looks and swaggering machismo.

There are flaws here, something which many Pacino and De Palma enthusiasts would have you either deny or ignore. At three hours, De Palma occasionally either lets his film become notably less focused, or gives in to indulging himself when he should be editing a scene here and there. Scarface never drags, but by the time you reach the credits you may find yourself wondering if it might have felt tighter had it lost as little as fifteen minutes through some fairly easy cuts.

Oliver Stone’s script also drops the ball once or twice when it comes to character development. The relationship between Gina Montana (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio) and Manny Ribera (Steven Bauer) initially burns slowly, hinted at here and there; De Palma skilfully elects to tread as carefully as the two characters, bringing a palpable subtlety to the pair’s emotional journey. The leap Stone’s script and De Palma’s direction takes with Gina and Manny during the final act therefore feels too far out of nowhere, scrapping the gradual development for a sudden and unlikely shift that leaves something of a dissatisfying aftertaste. A more prominent candidate for underdevelopment however is Michelle Pfeiffer’s Elvira, who never feels fleshed out beyond the bare minimum for her character to serve the purposes the story needs at various points throughout the film.

Once you’ve recognised the film’s shortcomings, however, it’s that much easier to celebrate the wealth of excellence within Scarface. De Palma creates a unique and mesmerising criminal world for Tony Montana (Pacino) and his associates to inhabit. The director assuredly shuns the conventionally dark and monochrome style of the gangster genre for a luridly multicoloured palette that reflects the excesses and commercialism of both his characters and their 1980s Miami surroundings. De Palma expertly controls the camera throughout, crafting irresistible cinematography punctuated by ultra-violence as and when it is needed. Only when the film reaches its seductive climax does the director allow the bloodshed to crescendo into the realms of fantasy, muddying the lines between what is real and what is occurring in Tony’s cocaine-saturated brain.

Central and crucial to Scarface’s overwhelming success is undoubtedly the performance from Pacino. From the very first moment Tony Montana appears on screen, a Cuban refugee smartmouthing his way into the US, Pacino is electric and utterly superb. The actor’s total immersion in the role is uncanny, making Tony’s violent, drug-fuelled rise through the ranks of the Miami underworld pure escapist gold whilst simultaneously utterly authentic. Whether or not we’re now inside Tony’s psyche when Pacino is snorting coke by the fistful during the final act, white powder cascading down his sharply cut suit, the actor makes sure it feel real because it’s undeniably real to Tony. The famous lines and scenes here deserve their notoriety, with Tony’s “say goodnight to the bad guy” speech, delivered to the dumbfounded patrons of a high class restaurant, the epitome of Scarface’s many flawless, unforgettable moments. Tony Montana is often held up as one of Pacino’s all-time great performances; all you have to do to see why is sit back and watch.

Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues - Cinema Review

'Like Steve Coogan as Alan Partridge or Leslie Nielsen as Frank Drebin, Will Ferrell as Ron Burgundy deserves to go down as one of the all-time greatest pairings of actor and character in comedy history.'

It’s all too easy to forget that 2004’s Anchorman: The Legend Of Ron Burgundy was a modest success in the year of its release, featuring relative unknowns and from first-time writer and director Adam McKay. Will Ferrell was that guy from Elf and Zoolander, having only his Saturday Night Live career and a series of bit parts to his name. Paul Rudd was Phoebe’s husband Mike in Friends who’d also cropped up in the odd rom-com throughout the nineties. Steve Carell’s biggest role was Evan Baxter, the newsreader Jim Carrey humiliates in Bruce Almighty. Nobody had heard of David Koechner.

Fast forward almost a decade and how things have changed. Anchorman now has a continually growing cult status, becoming arguably one of the most quotable films of the 21st Century. McKay has a string of writing and directing credits behind him. Ferrell has transformed into a comedy leading man, even branching out into straighter roles; Rudd has arguably followed suit with a career continually on the up. Carell’s star has risen the most from his Anchorman beginnings, making his mark on both the big and small screen. And, er, nobody has heard of Koechner.

All of which is reflected in Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues. The roles of each of the Channel 4 News Team have largely followed their respective actors’ success. Ron Burgundy (Ferrell) is unsurprisingly still the main focus here, with Brian Fantana (Rudd) taking on the wingman role once again with most of his major moments feeling like distinct sketches rather than crucial plot developments. Champ Kind (Koechner) gets the scraps with only a few semi-memorable moments in the film’s first act before largely merging into the background. Brick Tamland (Carell) on the other hand notably receives a considerable boost from his role in Anchorman, appearing more often and more prominently, even receiving something of a subplot in the form of romancing Kristen Wiig’s equally dim-witted Chani. The problems with this come from there being no real reason for Brick’s expanded role other than Carell now being much more famous, which makes the character a less welcome presence at times than he was in the first film.

And herein lies the biggest issue with Anchorman 2 overall. Ferrell and McKay’s heightened status means they can in many ways do whatever they want here, something which wasn’t the case when they made the first film. It shows through Anchorman 2’s flabby running time of close to two hours; Anchorman was kept at a slender ninety-ish minutes, quickly supplying a salvo of successful jokes, something which its sequel just can’t maintain to the same degree.

Plotwise, this is all over the place. Ferrell and McKay are unable - or perhaps unwilling - to choose one focus, instead seemingly throwing in every idea they have from 1980s racial insensitivity to Ron’s relationship with his estranged young son. There’s even a moralistic thread about the nature and purpose of journalism that crops up a few times.

One sequence fairly late on in the film (let’s call it the lighthouse sequence so as to give as little as possible away) stands out by feeling as though it could be from an entirely different film altogether. I’ve already seen the inclusion of the lighthouse sequence both praised and lambasted in separate reviews from two fairly major critical media outlets. It’s an oddity within the film that will surely continue to divide opinion and which to me feels like Anchorman 2’s clunkiest feature. It’s almost as if Ferrell and McKay couldn’t think of a way to bridge the second act and the finale, so just used something previously discarded that they liked even if it didn’t really fit.

And yet, despite Anchorman 2’s noticeable problems, it consistently succeeded in what must be a comedy’s primary aim: it made me laugh a lot. There’s enough here that harks fondly back to the first film, but not so much that this ever begins to feel like a lazy rehash of the original, a la The Hangover Part II. The jokes hit far more often than miss and the new additions to the cast fit comfortably into the Anchorman universe, in particular James Marsden who clearly has an absolute blast playing Ron’s new rival anchor Jack Lime. The cameos are welcome, feel expertly placed and wonderfully performed. The surreal elements when they appear are expanded considerably from the original to ludicrously entertaining levels. To say anything more would be to risk spoiling some of the film’s best moments, but suffice to say Ferrell and McKay take things to Blazing Saddles levels of ridiculous brilliance.

Perhaps, however, the key to Anchorman 2 comfortably overcoming its flaws is Ron Burgundy himself. Like Steve Coogan as Alan Partridge or Leslie Nielsen as Frank Drebin, Will Ferrell as Ron Burgundy deserves to go down as one of the all-time greatest pairings of actor and character in comedy history. Ferrell doesn’t play Burgundy, he comprehensively becomes him, inhabiting the character absolutely and flawlessly, making Ron’s every scene a delight (afternoon or otherwise). It may not always go down as smooth as Anchorman, falling somewhat short of the original’s synergy of comedy writing and performance, but through its collected strengths Anchorman 2 thankfully ends up a worthy and highly entertaining sequel.

Tenebrae - Blu-ray Review

'Argento’s Tenebrae is essentially giving giallo fans exactly what they want from start to finish.'

It would almost certainly be a premature generalisation at this juncture to reach the conclusion that I don’t get on with Italian Horror films. That said, it’s a conclusion that’s well within sight, and that might very well be reached in the near future based upon how my next hypothetical encounter with this esoteric subgenre goes. Last month, I grappled with Ruggero Deodato’s repugnant grandfather to contemporary found footage movies, Cannibal Holocaust, finding little to appreciate and even less to enjoy. Having put Deodato’s nastiness behind me, December then placed in front of me Dario Argento’s Tenebrae, which, whilst considerably less unpleasant than Deodato’s gruesome flick, again failed to ignite in me much positivity. Both Argento and Deodato are considered by many as masters of Horror; the two films I experienced are regularly held up as some of their crowning work. Like I said, maybe Italian Horror and I just don’t gel.

Placing the film in cinematic context, Tenebrae is firmly rooted in the giallo subgenre: a collection of “spaghetti thriller” movies said to combine Hitchcock style whodunnit plots with gratuitously bloody horror scenes. Giallo films regularly reuse standard plot devices, such as a psychopathic killer wearing black gloves; Tenebrae appears to follows the traditions of the genre fairly consistently, with all of the aforementioned elements present and correct.

This was my first experience of a giallo film, and my impressions were decidedly mixed. Giallo films seem somewhat like the Carry On films or Roger Moore’s tenure as James Bond. Fans of these movies don’t watch to see something especially new or challenging; they thrive on the comfort of knowing almost exactly what to expect from each new entry in the series, going in virtually pre-programmed to having their expectations met. Argento’s Tenebrae is essentially giving giallo fans exactly what they want from start to finish.

But like Carry On, like Moore’s 007, giallo films are likely to be something of a “Marmite” subgenre - you’ll either love them for all their over-the-top campness and reliably present conventions, or you’ll wonder how anyone could consider them anything but tedious and cheesy. And whilst I can potentially see the kitsch appeal of Tenebrae and other giallo features, I get the feeling I’m so firmly placed in the latter group I may as well pitch a tent and get the Calor gas stove going.

Tenebrae’s central plot potentially has merit: Peter Neal (Anthony Franciosa), an American author of extreme horror novels, travels to Italy to promote his latest work only to become embroiled in a series of murders influenced by his book’s plot. There is some entertainment to be had at times in attempting to work out who the killer might be and which plot elements will end up as red herrings. But Argento’s script and direction fails to make the story anything more than a plod through the motions until the final reveal. Sporadic scenes involving a woman in red high heels (which for much of the film’s duration could just as easily be flashback, fantasy or highfalutin artsy metaphor) should add intrigue, but in all honesty just make the whole thing feel a bit of a pretentious mess. The cast range from the satisfactory to the distractingly poor; the most memorable performance for better or worse is Franciosa’s, his portrayal of Neal coming straight from the William Shatner School Of Character Acting.

Blood-splattered scenes of murder and violence might well be part of the giallo genre, but here they regularly feel gratuitous, often adding very little to the story or the experience Tenebrae offers. The film’s values also feel uncomfortably dated, especially in its portrayal of women. I can get past the genre convention of most of the victims being young women; I can even accept that liberal nudity is part of giallo, even if I see it as yet more evidence for the overall cheapness of the genre. But the the fact that every female character here is either a sex object, a snarling feminist, a direct target for male oppression or some combination of these elements just makes Tenebrae all the more shallow and dated.

Tenebrae is horror trash, but then one man’s trash might be another man’s treat. You may enjoy Argento’s decadent-yet-pulpy giallo “masterpiece”, as it has often been cited to be, but for me Tenebrae just provided another good reason to keep well away from Italian Horror films.

Tenebrae is out in the UK on Blu-ray now.

Dallas Buyers Club - Cinema Review

Hollywood loves several things but there are few things higher on the list of things Hollywood loves than, in no particular order; a transformation, a comeback and its own collection of elite 'stars'. On the rare occasions that Hollywood has borne witness to the Holy Trinity of a comeback by one of its own, in a role which requires a transformation, mind-blowing aneurysms hit a height not seen since Monroe stood on top of that grate and some bright spark said 'that'd make a good photo'.

Perhaps the only thing that saved the industry from mass spontaneous combustion when they saw Dallas Buyers Club was the fact that Matthew McConaughey's comeback from high-earning but low-loved, normally low-quality bargain bin fodder, has now been going for quite some time. The Lincoln Lawyer, perhaps the film that started McConaughey's mid-life renaissance, is nearly three years old and in between that and Jean-Marc Vallée's film there's been a string of films - Killer Joe, The Paperboy, Mud, Magic Mike - with something interesting about them, if not always something successful. McConaughey, a bona fide star, is back, doing something interesting, here in a role that sees him slimmed down to gaunt levels. Taking just the face value stuff, there's little here not to like.

The substance is significant too but, perhaps, here's where the McConaughey mythos starts to detract somewhat from Craig Borten and Melisa Wallack's screenplay. Vallée gets sucked in to the personal story of Ron Woodroof (McConaughey), AIDS victim turned drug dealer-cum-activist, who rejects the system's peddled medicines in favour of healthy living, supplements and other semi-legal additives. There's no doubt that Woodroof's personal story is compelling, but somewhere in Vallée's film, amongst the scenes of corporate man Denis O'Hare's dealing with medical reps and Jennifer Garner's wannabe medical rebel, you get the feeling there was a bigger picture story about the medical world's lack of ability/willingness/non-monetary drive to solve the AIDS crisis in 1980s USA. There are parts of that story here but the throwaway references to other buyer's clubs belie a much bigger picture, which Vallée eschews to focus on Woodroof.

That focus is given depth and breadth by the inclusion of side characters such as Garner's, who eventually gets left to shoulder the burden of representing the medical world's dilemmas and Jared Leto's Rayon, who is something much more interesting entirely, mainly thanks to Leto. The mirror image of Woodroof, Rayon has the same entrepreneurial spirit which means he isn't quite a bland, lily white, rights fighter. Instead, like Woodroof, Rayon has layers somewhere between selfish, self-destructive and borderline heroic. Leto, who only seems to come out of self-imposed acting exile for roles that are semi-likely to win him something, nails it.

McConaughey meanwhile, in a film mainly worth seeing for the two lead performances - perfect where tone and focus waver - has been better in films serious of topic that aren't weighed down by carrying too many aims (awards, morals, 'issues', Drama, physical transformation). His rejuvenation may be partially built of films such as this, but the real keystones of his now borderline brilliant career will be the tales that allow him to be great without tempting a grandstand. For this year's best, see: Mud.

Dallas Buyers Club is released in UK cinemas on 7th February 2014.

The Conjuring - DVD Review

'exorcisms, witchcraft, spooky child ghosts, birds behaving in a suspiciously Hitchcockian way, and even a seriously sinister-looking possessed doll'

To give it its due, The Conjuring refuses from the outset to pigeonhole itself into one specific area of Horror, with director James Wan instead throwing pretty much everything except a haunted kitchen sink at you. So we not only get a mysterious house replete with a creepy history and resident things that go bump in the night, but we also get exorcisms, witchcraft, spooky child ghosts, birds behaving in a suspiciously Hitchcockian way, and even a seriously sinister-looking possessed doll. Wan also doesn’t waste time with easing you in, delving straight into the story of the aforementioned terrifying toy within the first couple of minutes.

To be frank, Wan almost gets away with it; there are many times when The Conjuring is a satisfyingly effective and well-made addition to the horror genre. There’s a stretch of about twenty five minutes during the film’s closing act where I was not only genuinely gripped by proceedings, but was also pleasingly aware that what I was watching was ambitiously structured and skilfully executed. If only Wan had managed to maintain this level of success throughout the whole of his film then there’s no doubt you’d see (at least) one more star added to the score at the end of this review.

Perhaps inevitably considering how many balls Wan tries to keep in the air, at least a couple fall to the ground before the end and are never picked up again. The possessed doll, “Annabelle”, is a prime example. After a strong opening sequence which feels like an entire horror film reduced into just a few minutes, Annabelle is effectively sidelined for much of the next hour, before Wan reintroduces the creepy plaything once again to superb effect. But, by this point in the film, there’s so much else going on that the demonic dolly’s story is suddenly dropped once again, leaving that particular thread dissatisfyingly unresolved. It may be Wan eyeing sequel potential (rumours of Annabelle being the focus of either a follow-up or spin-off to The Conjuring), but here it’s a prime example of the director trying to cram more than he can manage into one film.

The same can be said for the parallel plots found in The Conjuring. Wan begins his film focusing on real life paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren (Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga) and their careers, before moving to the story of the Perron family - father Roger (Ron Livingston), mother Carolyn (Lili Taylor) and their five daughters - as they move into their new home.

Wan does manage to juggle these two threads well before inevitably bringing them together, but again there’s just too much material for the director to make everything work as well as it could. With the Warrens, Wan feels as though he falls back too often on Wilson and Farmiga’s strong performances and chemistry, devoting too little time to developing the pair. The relationship between Ed and Lorraine and their daughter, for example, is disappointingly sketchy, leaving it solely to the skill of the two actors to make things work when it is eventually called upon as a plot device. The Perrons suffer from almost the opposite problem: plenty of screen time devoted to their story, but there are just too many characters to feel properly fleshed out. The five daughters in particular essentially end up feeling like carbon copies of the same one-dimensional character at different ages.

I feel I’ve possibly criticised The Conjuring more than I intended to, which is a shame because it’s regularly enjoyable and, perhaps most important for a Horror film, genuinely creepy. There’s a notable mid-film dip where not much happens and Wan ill-advisedly opts to try and introduce some entirely out-of-place light humour through two characters barely seen before this point, and the ending also feels a little too conventional when compared to much of what has preceded it. But, for the majority of its running time, what The Conjuring has to offer will both engage and entertain, and even achieve excellence at a few points.

The Conjuring is out now in the UK on DVD and Blu-ray.

Trailer Of The Week - Week #51 - Inside Llewyn Davis

For those who might have been in any doubt, the latest Coen Brothers effort looks to be following the pattern of recent offerings from Ethan and Joel through and through. Relative unknown looking rather impressive in a lead role? That’ll be Oscar Isaac as the titular folk singer. Bigger names looking rather impressive whilst being cast against type? Step forward Carey Mulligan and Justin Timberlake. Coen mainstay making a welcome return? Good to see you, John Goodman. Stylistically this feels Coen through and through, with a distinct palette used throughout the trailer and Llewyn inexplicably carrying a cat throughout. It might be the Coens sticking with what they know, but what they know is making excellent and original cinema. So why change?

LIFF 27 - The Battery - Cinema Review

'Jeremy Gardner's script is regularly witty, authentic and well-structured; his direction skilful, crafting a palpable, believable zombie-infested New England'

The Battery is a prime example of a film being the victim of its own marketing. Touted as a new and different take on the zombie genre, much of the tone and perspective on a post-zombie-apocalypse world seen here can be pieced together from recent zombie offerings. To use a fairly blunt comparison, this is something like Zombieland meets 28 Days Later, although other clear influences include the likes of Shaun Of The Dead and Zack Snyder’s 2004 Dawn Of The Dead remake. This certainly doesn’t make The Battery a bad film, it just means that anyone going to see this on the promise of experiencing a wholly fresh and original zombie film might feel a little hard done by.

What The Battery should do is mark out Jeremy Gardner as a talent to watch. Gardner writes, directs and co-stars here, and impresses in all three roles. His script is regularly witty, authentic and well-structured; his direction skilful, crafting a palpable, believable zombie-infested New England, with the limited budget never limiting Gardner’s craftsmanship or invention.

The fact that the vast majority of the film focuses on just two characters, Ben (Gardner) and Mickey (Adam Cronheim), means The Battery’s success more often than not relies on the performances and chemistry from its co-leads. Thankfully this is never an issue, with both actors giving commendably strong performances, although Gardner is the more consistent and convincing of the two.

The film is at its very best when delivering nuggets of humour or imagination. A scene showing the pair vigorously brushing their teeth on a driveway after ransacking a house is a simple but very effective signifier of what has become important in everyday life. There are also some well-constructed comedy scenes throughout: Mickey making the most of his entrapment in a car by a female zombie pressed up against the window is particularly memorable, as is Ben using a captured zombie to help toughen up his travelling companion against his will.

The Battery’s less successful aspects are largely down to Gardner’s inexperience as a director, this being his inaugural film. Ben and Mickey spend most of the film wandering aimlessly, not aiming towards a particular goal or destination, which at times leaves the film in turn somewhat lacking in focus. Gardner introduces other survivors of the zombie outbreak here and there in the film, including references to a mysterious place called “the orchard”, but these elements are often left too underdeveloped to really take hold.

Gardner’s greatest mistake, however, is The Battery’s final act. The film shifts in style, which works initially but then stays with the same idea for much too long, knocking the momentum out of the story at precisely the wrong moment. It ends up feeling like Gardner is playing for time, delaying the ending of his film because he’s not sure exactly how to finish it. The Battery therefore comes to a close at arguably its weakest point; a shame, seeing as there is a great deal here to both enjoy and admire. It may not be an all-new take on zombie movies, but it’s certainly a worthwhile addition to the genre as well as an indicator of great things Gardner might very well be capable of doing as his career develops.

The 27th Leeds International Film Festival (LIFF) took place from the 6th-21st November at cinemas around the city, including Hyde Park Picture House and Leeds Town Hall. More information is available via the official LIFF website.

Inside Llewyn Davis - Cinema Review

'without signposting it for you, this is the Coen's making their film about how you move on when someone close to you has passed'

At one point during Inside Llewyn Davis, I scribbled on my pad 'is this about loss?' By the end, the answer was 'yes'.

That answer is one which, for me, makes Inside Llewyn Davis a much cleverer film than it's being given credit for in some quarters. This isn't just a look at one schlubby man (Llewyn, played by a brilliant, bearded Oscar Isaac) navigating smoky folk joints in New York, by way of estranged and pissed off friends. Inside Llewyn Davis is much more than that because, without signposting it for you, this is the Coen's making their film about how you move on when someone close to you has passed.

In other hands, there would be over-wrought conversations everywhere. Every discussion would be about the person who has passed on. Every moment could be dedicated to them. Real life isn't like that. In real life, Llewyn has to get on with things; attempt to earn a dollar and fashion a solo career in folk, repair things with friend Jean (a brilliantly sweary Carey Mulligan), find a sofa to sleep on. In real life, problems aren't always on the surface, but that doesn't mean they're not bubbling around underneath; showing themselves in an argument, a patch of despair, a need to connect, the choice of record on a player, an over-whelming feeling of tiredness.

Not that loss excuses Llewyn and his, at times, horrible behaviour. The start of the final third may well be the point The Coen's, and the film, signal that you can almost give up on him; a key decision in a car stopped in its tracks on the outskirts of Chicago isn't made and shown by accident.

The scenes around that decision are the film's low point. Stopping the fantastic narrative in New York so that Llewyn can spend a bit of time in a car with John Goodman and Garrett Hedlund on the way to Chicago feels like the point the film reaches its 'Inbetweeners moment', runs out of ideas and packs its characters off on holiday. It adds really little and the conversations with the other two stars - and the cat - lack the sparkle of the script in other areas.

Perhaps though, a journey was needed and perhaps too it might come to be realised that Inside Llewyn Davis has more in common with a previous Coen film, O Brother Where Art Thou, than the prominent, brilliant, music. Watch for a key reveal of the name of a 'character' towards the film's final moments. Has Llewyn completed his own inept, shambling Odyssey, in order to get to the reality of his own bleak existence?

And there is no doubt that it is bleak - possibly, with what it has to say about loss, human nature and circularity - amongst the Coen’s bleakest. Llewyn arguably hasn’t moved much from where he started the film - in literal terms, in fact, he’s only made it to the end of the alley - and there are hints that there might be even worse things to come for him.

But for all that, this doesn’t have the near-nihilism of Burn After Reading, which abandons its characters to blind chance and ill-deserved random murder. There is, and this is something fairly new for the Coen’s I’d say, a smattering of hope. You have to look really closely to see it, but peer into those bushes at the side of the snow-dusted freeway and it is visibly there, moving around in the undergrowth, hinting that, at some anonymous point in the future, Llewyn might yet be redeemed.

Inside Llewyn Davis is released in UK cinemas on Friday 24th January 2014.

The Long Goodbye - Blu-ray Review

'a pulpy mystery at least as concerned with drinking as much booze as possible as it is with finding out the who, what, why, where and when'

As Oscar Isaac chases his own ginger tabby around in Inside Llewyn Davis, next week sees the Blu-ray release of a much earlier symbolic feline, from a film more concerned with soulful piano than it is with fashionable folk.

Robert Altman’s Raymond Chandler adaptation, The Long Goodbye, takes the writer's iconic detective Philip Marlowe and puts him in the shambling shoes of Elliot Gould, tasking him with a pulpy mystery at least as concerned with drinking as much booze as possible as it is with finding out the who, what, why, where and when.

First though, there’s the cat, designed to show us how Marlowe is teetering on the brink of mixing his priorities and how his ramshackle lifestyle is a wrong decision away from crashing down. Notably, when Marlowe takes the obvious wrong step of assisting a friend with brusied knuckles across the Mexican border, the cat is off to find an owner with more moral fortitude.

If this sounds too whimsical for a supposedly hard-boiled detective then perhaps that is part of The Long Goodbye’s problem. The film is a mixture of near-laughable floaty 1970s hippydom (the naked stoners Marlowe lives next door to, a comedy sequence where Marlowe is ‘followed’ by an inept mobster) and some really quite cold outcomes (the conclusion). In isolation both bits are fine but Altman attempts to mash them together ham-fistedly, jarring segments like the aforementioned comedy mobster again said mobster's friends, who have just glassed a young girl in the face, shown by Altman in slow-motion.

More crushingly to The Long Goodbye’s progress is an elongated central section, where Marlowe struggles to piece together how estate residents Eileen (Nina van Pallandt) and Roger Wade (Sterling Hayden) are related to his near-do-well friend. Dull segments spent attempting to control Roger's alcoholism add nothing and seem to take forever and the film slips into corny cliché ('you don't look like you're afraid of trouble'), which it can't afford.

Altman though has enough with the plot and Gould to largely keep his simple mystery afloat and interesting. Gould, in particular, is magnetic in a way few leads have ever or could ever be; dragging his feet around as though half asleep, wise-cracking to armed mobsters and mumbling to himself whenever he’s lacking an ear to fill full of his stream of consciousness. He’s the type of ludicrously fictional detective who picks up his ‘messages’ from a local bar keep then borrows his phone to acquire a new client. If that doesn’t charm you, despite the rest of the film’s flaws, then nothing will.

The Long Goodbye is out on new UK Blu-ray on Monday 16th December.