Film Review | Beasts Of The Southern Wild (2012)

Regardless of individual or popular opinion, Beasts Of The Southern Wild has its place in cinematic history set thanks to achieving the youngest nomination for a Best Actress Oscar at the 85th Academy Awards for its nine-year-old star Quvenzhané Wallis. It's a shame then that the performances of Wallis alongside co-star Dwight Henry are the only thing worth recommending in a film seriously lacking in substance or cohesion.

The film is at its strongest when Wallis and Henry share screen time on their own, both giving performances which play off each other pleasingly. Even though Wink (Henry) is regularly quite cruel to his five-year-old daughter Hushpuppy (Wallis), often without any real reason other than to take out his frustrations of their harsh living conditions, by the film's conclusion the pair have managed to craft a touching and unique relationship on screen. Disappointingly, the rest of Beasts Of The Southern Wild's cast of characters is either distractingly irritating or so fleetingly seen as to be severely lacking in depth. Either way you'll find yourself caring very little about anyone other than Hushpuppy and Wink.

The problems elsewhere are even less easy to forgive. The film takes place in a world seemingly set sometime in the relatively near future, but presented as equal parts stark realism and childlike fantasy. Both views bleed into each other through the viewpoint and narration we are given by Hushpuppy, but largely work to cancel each other out. Director Benh Zeitlin shows a knack for shooting nature at its harshest and most extreme, but the fantastical edge regularly applied to the film severely dulls any moralistic or environmental message he was going for. By the same token, the elements presumably happening in Hushpuppy's imagination lack vibrance and magic when presented through such a starkly grim lens. Elsewhere, Zeitlin's attempts at linking his film into a deeper mythology - such as a floating nightclub called "Elysian Fields" - feel like weak efforts to raise the film to a higher literary level and quickly fall flat.

Beasts Of The Southern Wild ultimately manages the feat of coming across as incredibly preachy whilst at the same time saying and being about nothing. Zeitlin's narrative is almost arrogantly haphazard, as if the director feels he is above a cohesive story, and his message feels sanctimonious without having a core set of beliefs to base itself around. Despite a running time of just an hour and a half, this drags. Zeitlin is lucky in that his film at least looks good, and that he has two talented actors in the lead roles. Without these two saving graces, maybe the Academy would have seen through the Emperor's new clothes in which Beasts Of The Southern Wild constantly wraps itself.

4/10

Film Review | Hunger (2008)

It's easy in many ways to tell that Hunger is the work of Steve McQueen, the director who brought us Shame: a captivating central performance from Michael Fassbender; a subject which deals with humanity at its most raw and vulnerable, but also at its most destructive and savage; and a directorial panache which makes the film at times feel less like a feature and more like an art installation. But it's also easy to tell that this was made earlier than McQueen's modern masterpiece - the hallmarks are there, but the director's approach occasionally alienates a little too much.

Central to Hunger is its crowning glory, a scene well over twenty minutes in length featuring only Bobby Sands (Fassbender) and a Catholic priest (Liam Cunningham) talking over the hunger strike Sands intends to take as an inmate of the Maze Prison during the Troubles. Featuring a single shot around seventeen minutes long, each man on either side of a table in an empty room, this is McQueen laying his cards out on the table in bold and uncompromising fashion. The entire sequence is note perfect, the two actor glancing off each other to perfection with Fassbender in particular bringing an intensity so brazen and enigmatic its impossible to resist, and the script delivering some of the most powerful moments of the whole film.

Either side of this extraordinary middle section, things are still undoubtedly impressive but feel less successful. The opening half an hour of the film presents a patchwork of events from both inmates' and prison officers' lives at Maze, offering little in the way of narrative structure or indeed exposition. If you're not already familiar with this particular period during the Troubles, McQueen offers little to educate you, opting instead to show you his artistic vision of life in Maze Prison which regularly impresses and confounds in equal measure. Fassbender's main character isn't introduced until around a third of the way in, a bold decision which ultimately works but is likely to be at least somewhat bewildering on a first viewing.

McQueen ends his film by again opting for images rather than a traditionally structured narrative, presenting us with some of the film's most harrowing moments as we witness Sands' deterioration and decay through Fassbender's astounding physical commitment to the role. Once again, the finished product feels more like an art installation than a feature film at several points, and whilst the film here is regularly striking, there are bold decisions made by the director which don't always pay off. McQueen undoubtedly has justification for showing us an extended sequence of a prison officer dousing a corridor with cleaning fluid, then sweeping the fluid from one end of the corridor to the other, but what his reasons are just don't feel clear enough to justify such a prolonged and, frankly, uninteresting moment.

Hunger is a film to admire and appreciate artistically, but not necessarily to enjoy in the same way as McQueen's later effort Shame. The director's panache with crafting powerful images is never in any doubt, but at the same time this feels a little too esoteric and metaphorical meaning Hunger often treads a fine line of accessibility. That said, as directorial debut's go, this is one of the most powerful and promising the 21st Century has seen so far.

8/10

Film Review | Tyrannosaur (2011)

Paddy Considine the actor has attempted a diapason of roles, from revenge-consumed former soldier Richard in Dead Man's Shoes to one half of the "Andys", the detective double act seen in Hot Fuzz. Considine the director opted very much for a bleak and heavily realistic tone closer to his dramatic work with Shane Meadows for his feature debut. It's one decision of many which make Tyrannosaur surely one of the strongest inaugural works seen from any director in some time.

Considine's film is confident and mature showing an understanding for the director's craft that perhaps even surpasses his acting ability, with shot after shot crafted expertly and presenting the bleak and angry version of Britain Considine clearly wants us to see. It's hard to place Tyrannosaur geographically to one place: despite being filmed in Yorkshire there's very little to tie the film to that part of the country, and many of the actors perform using their natural accents making things even less clear. It's a clever choice from Considine as director, giving the film's message about the nature of humanity a feel of universality.

The film's strongest element alongside the direction of Considine is in its cast. Peter Mullan's performance as anger-infused alcoholic widower Joseph is incredibly powerful, creating an enigmatic anti-hero by turns both inspiring and repulsive. Olivia Colman opposite him as Hannah is quite simply extraordinary in a demanding role, delivering incredible raw emotion throughout. Completing the trifecta is Eddie Marsan as Hannah's husband James creating surely one of the most loathsome male characters seen on screen for some time through an unsettlingly authentic turn.

Considine's choice to make his film relentlessly bleak and unforgiving allows the director to produce some incredibly effective and hard-hitting drama, but it's also the main factor that holds the film back from perfection. Watching Tyrannosaur could never be accurately described as enjoyable. It's a film to appreciate, admire and applaud, but its persistently harrowing nature does make it hard viewing at times. When the lightest and most upbeat moments of a film happen during a funeral and wake, you know you're in for a punishing cinematic experience. Occasionally too Considine threatens to allow the brutality of Tyrannosaur's world to overflow into the ludicrous; it never happens, but the film teeters on the brink once or twice.

If you can take Tyrannosaur's perpetually angry and savage perspective, this is a film which will reward you with some of the finest contemporary British cinema you're likely to experience. It forms an astounding debut for Considine as a director, and will leave you excited for the actor's next venture behind the camera.

8/10

Film Review | 127 Hours (2011)

127 Hours received a fair amount of attention upon its release, being as it was the first film released by director Danny Boyle after Slumdog Millionaire won him Best Picture and Best Director (and six more to boot) at the Oscars two years earlier. But whilst the influence of Slumdog Millionaire and several other previous Boyle works can be seen within 127 Hours, it never manages to reach the heights of the director's most successful films.

The strongest element within the film is undoubtedly the central performance from James Franco - pretty vital really, seeing as Franco spends a large part of the film as the only person on screen. After a largely functional opening act in which Aron Ralston (Franco, and upon whose account of his real life experience the film is based) is set up as something of an arrogant twat, it's down to the acting and directing team of Franco and Boyle to make the next hour of the film work. Franco steps up to the plate admirably: whilst Ralston is not always likable, the actor's performance keeps things interesting and does well to show Ralston's physical and mental deterioration over the five or so days he spends trapped by a fallen rock.

Boyle, on the other hand, has less success. His style is a mishmash of cues from his cinematic canon: the opening act has a very similar feel to The Beach; Ralston's flashbacks to various moments throughout his life echo Slumdog Millionaire's style; and his increasingly surreal hallucinations and visions are reminiscent of Renton's drug-fuelled experiences from Trainspotting. But herein lies the problem: Boyle's eclectic direction never gels in a pleasing enough way, nor is it ever as successful as the previous films it recalls. Ralston's mind unravels, but we never get anything as iconic or inspired as The Worst Toilet In Scotland or Allison's dead baby crawling on the ceiling. And whilst I accept that Ralston's flashbacks are there to show how his current experience is changing him as a person, they equally serve to reinforce that the person we're watching has for the vast majority of his adult life been a bit of a tosser.

True, there are more successful moments here. Ralston's interviewing of himself on an imaginary talk show - partly to reveal he too realises his previous tosser-like behaviour, partly to distract himself from the boredom and hopelessness of his situation - is a particular highlight. Much has been made of the gut-wrenching scene depicting Ralston's now famous self-sacrifice, and this too is one of the film's strongest scenes, although if you've been subject to any of the hype surrounding it you're likely to be at least a little underwhelmed. 127 Hours ends up as the approximate sum of its parts. It's worth seeing to experience Franco's breakout performance as a leading man; but ultimately Boyle not only fails to impress nearly as much as he has done in the past, but also manages to constantly remind you of that fact through the choices he makes.

6/10

Film Review | Lawless (2012)

Based on the real lives of the bootlegging Bondurant brothers during prohibition era America, Lawless feels throughout as though it wants to reach the heights of cinema's most revered gangster tales. But despite an impressive cast of acting talent, it never manages to achieve anywhere near the greatness it so desperately and ambitiously strives for.

Lawless' main cast is arguably its strongest asset. Tom Hardy does well as middle brother Forrest, growling his way through a part which, whilst certainly not the most challenging he has taken on in his career so far, allows the actor to create an interesting character through a mix of understatement and intensity. Opposite Hardy as youngest Bondurant brother Jack, Shia LaBoeuf gives the best performance of his career so far but one that still lacks consistency. At times LaBeouf delivers some pleasingly strong emotional moments, but at others feels out of his depth; whilst certainly not an awful turn, it's easy to think of several other acting talents of a similar age who could have delivered a lot more in the role. Rounding off the trio of brothers is Jason Clarke as Howard, the oldest but unfortunately also the sibling most underwritten and underdeveloped, feeling too one-note for the actor to create anything genuinely memorable.

The supporting cast elsewhere delivers mixed results. Guy Pearce delivers with an unsettling and intense performance as Special Deputy Charley Rakes, stealing the show in the film's opening act; it's a shame that both the character and Pearce's performance descends into over-theatrical ludicrousness by the film's climax.  Gary Oldman does reliably well in a role more akin to the maniacal characters of earlier in his career than the more restrained parts the actor has been seen in recently, but is also vastly underutilized throughout. Mia Wasikowska and Jessica Chastain are both fine, but are given very little of interest to do other than be accessories to the men.

The screenplay from Nick Cave is at times strong, but lacks the narrative thread needed to tie all its different elements together. The slow-burning feud between the Bondurants and Rakes is compelling throughout, but both of the film's attempts at romantic subplots fail to do anything genuinely meaningful: Hardy and Chastain's chemistry props up their love affair, but the scenes between LaBeouf and Wasikowska continually fall flat.

Lawless is regularly at its best when delivering brutal violence, with John Hillcoat's direction feeling most effective when focused upon the grittier and more unforgiving elements of prohibition era society. Elsewhere, the director's artistic choices feel perfunctory at best. There are moments of impressive cinematography but these are far too seldom to leave any lasting impact. Hillcoat's execution by and large feels too clean cut and lacking in stylistic mastery to deliver an authentic mise-en-scène.

Lawless ends up as an enjoyable period crime drama, but also one that wavers far too much between successful and ineffective elements. There's certainly a fair amount here to like, but there's also too much that falls significantly short of what it needs to be to create something genuinely memorable. Hillcoat's film manages to entertain for most of its running time, but with several big talents involved and a time period undeniably compelling in itself, to deliver a film that manages to entertain without offering much else ultimately feels like a wasted opportunity.

6/10

Film Review | Shame (2012)

Michael Fassbender has emerged over the last five years or so as a serious talent to watch, bringing to life such memorable characters as Lieutenant Archie Hicox in Inglourious Basterds and more recently the unsettling android David in Prometheus. But to truly see why Fassbender is one of the most outstanding contemporary actors out there, you need look no further than his astonishing performance in Shame.

By the end of the film's opening, wordless sequence, Fassbender has expertly set out his stall, crafting the character of Brandon Sullivan sublimely through suggestion, expression and an intensity that only the very purest acting talent can muster. Brandon is seen making eye contact with an unnamed woman on the New York subway. The subtle flirting is traded back and forth, escalated little by little. And then things suddenly change, the woman sensing threat and becoming flustered before quickly escaping the train carriage at the next stop. Brandon pursues, no longer a man flirting with a woman but a predator desperately attempting to track his prey. The woman eludes him, and Brandon transforms again: a frustrated child who knows he has lost the game and momentarily bewildered, before heading back crestfallen to board the train once again. All the while this is intercut with candid snippets of Brandon's daily routine; his well-to-do but solitary existence in a modern, clean-cut apartment which belies the character's true life as a sex addict.

It's a performance which Fassbender sustains and develops masterfully throughout the film. Brandon is a complex character, simultaneously repulsive and genuinely sympathetic, repressed yet explosive. This is a character more intricate than the entire cast of other films put together, and yet Fassbender's execution of the part is so perfectly balanced between the excruciatingly subtle and overwhelmingly palpable as to appear effortless. It's a performance around which the rest of Shame is built, but the combined skill of both Fassbender as performer and McQueen as director means that it never threatens to overpower the film's many other superb elements.

Under the direction of another, Shame could at any point very easily slip into the exploitative and tasteless realm of cinema, but McQueen is so firmly in control of what he is creating this never even threatens to  happen. His depiction of the sordid elements of Brandon's life is regularly graphic, but never pornographic. A great deal of the sexual activity McQueen shows us is devoid of sexiness, instead manifesting a combination of Brandon's hedonism, dependency and self-loathing. The only time the director allows sex on screen to titillate is during Brandon's seduction of co-worker Marianne (Nicole Beharie), directly reflecting the character's desire to begin a genuine romantic relationship. Without a doubt, McQueen's command over his film is absolute and expert at every moment.

Carey Mulligan, supporting Fassbender as Brandon's capricious sister Sissy, is also deserving high praise. Her chemistry with Fassbender is electric, bringing a volatile and deep relationship to the screen with the two sharing both tender moments and some of the most uneasily tense scenes in the entire film. Her haunting yet beautiful take on a well-known film theme is also guaranteed to stay with you just as long as some of Shame's most hard-hitting sexual images.

Shame is a modern masterpiece: a piece of art where everything is perfectly crafted and exudes excellence. Steve McQueen is a director of substantial talent who will undoubtedly prove to be a name in cinema worth watching very closely in the years to come. But it is the awe-inspiring performance from Michael Fassbender that will imprint itself upon your mind long after the film's conclusion, and rightfully so. It's the most brilliant performance I've seen yet from one of the finest acting talents of the 21st Century. Shame is regularly not an easy watch, but it's a film that without question deserves to be seen.

10/10

Film Review | The Ides Of March (2011)

I'm a big fan of The West Wing, the US political drama focused on Martin Sheen's President Bartlet and his White House staff. It's the most entertaining, engrossing, well-written and authentic-feeling dramatic representation of the world of politics I've ever experienced. What this essentially means is that I now consciously measure any other politically-oriented dramatic work against The West Wing. Maybe this means  I can be quite severe when passing judgement on political dramas, or maybe it's just that I acknowledge just how high-quality this subgenre can be and don't take kindly to those who try to cut corners when presenting the world of politics. Whilst The Ides Of March could never be accused of corner-cutting, it feels a little too lacking in several areas to be considered a truly great political drama.

The film's greatest strength is by far its cast. Ryan Gosling leads ably, crafting an engaging and, for the majority of the time, believable protagonist in junior campaign manager Stephen Meyers. The supporting cast too displays a cornucopia of talent, with Philip Syemour Hoffman, Paul Giamatti and George Clooney (who also writes and directs) all reliably excellent. The tone throughout much of the film is also well struck, with palpable tension and pleasing authenticity created through the aesthetic and cinematographic choices Clooney makes as director.

The Ides Of March's problems come from a few key weaknesses in Clooney's script, which manifest themselves more and more as the film progresses. Some characters lack the integrity to genuinely ring true. Gosling's Meyer, for example, is set up during the film's opening act as a bright young spark in political management who has risen quickly through the ranks of Governor Morris' (Clooney) campaign staff due to his keen intelligence of the world of politics. However, several key decisions Meyer makes throughout the film indicate a serious lack of understanding and experience in the field, and the Meyer we see in the film's final act feels in some ways like a different character to the person introduced at the start. Watch too as Evan Rachel Wood's intern changes personality almost entirely, from sassy free spirit to panic-stricken young trollop in just one scene. It's stretches too far such as these that leave Clooney's script lacking in the tightness needed to achieve a genuinely satisfying level of authenticity.

Ultimately, Clooney's film is enjoyable enough thanks mainly to the cast and Clooney's directorial skill. It's just a shame that the mistakes the film contains hold it back from genuine greatness, as the potential was definitely there. As it is, The Ides Of March is certainly enjoyable, but doesn't deserve to join the ranks of cinema's truly great political dramas.

7/10

Film Review | Argo (2012)

A couple of weeks before Argo won Best Picture at the 85th Academy Awards, director Ben Affleck stood up in front of an equally prestigious audience of peers to accept the Best Film award at the BAFTAs. Towards the end of his speech, Affleck told the audience: "This is a second act for me, and you have given me that. This industry has given me that" - a clear and honest reference to the director's former critically chequered career in front of the camera. In humbly acknowledging not only his youthful errors but also the objectivity and respect his recent directorial work has been received with by the industry, critics and audiences, Affleck clearly showed how he has developed into a balanced and mature member of the film industry; it is a balance and maturity which is openly reflected throughout the vast majority of Argo's running time.

This is a grown-up film that deals with sensitive issues by and large in a skilled and meticulous fashion. Affleck's casting of himself in the lead role as CIA operative Tony Mendez works well providing a solid presence around which the threads and characters of the story can gravitate. Affleck's largely understated performance also allows the fine performances of his supporting cast to come to the fore. Veterans Alan Arkin and John Goodman put not a foot wrong between them, crafting superb characters from a relatively small amount of screen time. The half dozen ensemble of largely unknown actors playing American diplomats trapped in early 1980s Ayatollah-led Iran also do incredibly well as a collective. It's Bryan Cranston, however, who gives the performance of the film as Mendez's senior Jack O'Donnell. Cranston's performance grows more and more compelling as the film progresses. Having never seen Breaking Bad, Cranston's signature TV drama, I can't compare his performance here to what he's like in that, but let's just say I'm pretty much sold on buying the first season solely on the strength of the actor's Argo turn.

The excellent cast are important in the film's success, but are just one part of what is Affleck's film through and through. The director's skill at capturing the ultra-hostile environment of Iran in the late '70s and early '80s is startling, bringing home the atrocities in a punishingly matter-of-fact fashion. It's almost a shame that Affleck feels the need to draw direct comparison between historical photographs and shots from his film during the closing credits, as if he is desperate to ensure you know that what he's shown you is based in fact. It's okay, Ben, we believe you. The film strikes the perfect balance between drama and realism during the first two acts, although things perhaps slow down a little too much during the middle section. Affleck more than makes up for any slackening of pace by ramping up the tension during the final act, surely one of the most nail-biting and squirm-inducing forty minutes of film you'll watch this year. It may for some be too much of a departure from the realism of earlier in the film, but there's no denying the gripping, heart-pounding nature of the finale Affleck creates.

There are a few minor missteps that hold Argo back from genuine greatness. Goodman and Arkin - two of the film's strongest attributes - are largely sidelined after the film's first act, leaving me wanting more of both and feeling as though the skills of these Hollywood patriarchs hadn't been utilised to their fullest. It would also have been interesting to see a little more of the background to some of the characters featured, particularly Mendez, whose family serves as a plot device rather than supporting characters. These are largely forgivable qualms though due to the consistent quality, maturity and craftsmanship resplendent throughout Argo. This is a genuinely excellent film; whether or not it's a film deserving of the praise and accolades recently lavished upon it is a question that will be answered by time more than anything, and is also a question I am not currently in a position to answer having yet to watch the film's main competition during awards season. But there's no denying the spectacular career transformation Ben Affleck has made, nor the defining moment Argo deserves recognition as in the director's life and work.

8/10

Film Review | We Need To Talk About Kevin (2011)

Alan Partridge. Probably not the first thing you expected to read in a review of a film neither featuring nor involving Steve Coogan in any way, but it's where I'm going to start. You see, the "autobiography" of Coogan's fictional TV and radio personality was released in late 2011. The title of the book: I, Partridge. Still no connection, but stay with me. Its subtitle is We Need To Talk About Alan. And herein lies my point.

We Need To Talk About Kevin, both Lynne Ramsay's film and the 2003 novel by Lionel Shriver upon which it is based, has a title that has become more notorious than the works it stands for. A lot of people who have neither read the book nor seen the film will have heard the title or at least a sentence derived from it (such as that linked to the aforementioned Partridge-flavoured tome). Shriver's book certainly caught public attention too at the time of its release through its potentially shocking subject matter.

All of which leaves Ramsay's 2011 film adaptation in a curious, and not altogether desirable, situation. It's now very difficult to watch We Need To Talk About Kevin without knowing at least a little about its story. A shame, because to know a little is to be able to work out a lot. The clues mount up as to where the film is leading us for its climax; whilst I unfortunately had a rudimentary knowledge of why Kevin is someone needing to be talked about, meaning I could link things together somewhat quicker than maybe I was meant to, I couldn't help but feel that some of the puzzle pieces were a little too unsubtle to the point that even someone who had no idea how things were likely to end up would be able to join the dots a bit too easily.

Ramsay is also heavy-handed when it comes to symbolism. Red is a colour which follows Eva (Tilda Swinton), mother of the titular teenager (Ezra Miller), throughout the film, linking to all the obvious connotations from anger and violence to love and passion. But again there's no subtlety to Ramsay's touch. Eva's house and car is slathered with crimson paint in an early scene, and it's almost as though Ramsay has adopted the same method in leaving great dollops of red throughout her film.

Elsewhere, the director is much more successful. Ramsay's choices of cinematography and editing blend tropes of crime drama, psychological thriller and subtle horror in a very pleasing manner. The non-linear structure is controlled and delivered skilfully, adding intrigue to the story and building both Eva and Kevin's characters in an unusual but largely satisfying way.

The performances from the central two are also key to much of the film's success, with Miller crafting a chillingly unpredictable adolescent from the haunting Damien Thorn-esque performance of Jasper Newell playing the prepubescent Kevin. This is Swinton's film however, expertly putting across Eva's transformation from carefree twenty-something through paranoid and unnatural mother to an emotional shell of a woman struggling to put her life back together. It's a shame that John C. Reilly can't manage the same success as husband and father Franklin. It really isn't any fault of Reilly's, as his performance is fine enough; his very presence in the role is just too much of a distraction throughout and constantly feels like a truly bizarre piece of casting. There are any number of excellent actors who could easily have taken the part and not seemed so at odds with the film around them.

What we end up with is a good film with plenty of areas of strength that also misses a few too many steps, which holds it back from being great. It's a shame, because those areas in which the film succeeds - Swinton's performance in particular - are genuinely excellent. But they can never be fully appreciated due to those areas where Ramsay misses the mark, meaning We Need To Talk About Kevin will unfortunately most likely be remembered for its title more than anything else.

7/10

TV Review | Black Mirror, Series 1 (2011)

With the second series of Black Mirror due to start tonight on Channel 4 in the UK, along with the news that Iron Sherlock himself Robert Downey Jr. has bought the movie rights to the episode The Entire History Of You, now seems like the perfect time to revisit the original 2011 trilogy of episodes (of course, I couldn't know that RDJ would secure the rights to an episode today, but the timing was too perfect not to mention it here). Black Mirror is the brainchild of Charlie Brooker, known to some as that angry bloke who moans about stuff in The Guardian, and to others as that angry bloke who moans about stuff on BBC3. And whilst a bile-fuelled tirade from Brooker is entertaining, it's in his perceptive and satirical scripts that Brooker shows his most exquisite talent. Nowhere has this been more apparent yet than in Black Mirror.

Brooker himself has stated that "the 'black mirror' of the title is the one you'll find on every wall, on every desk, in the palm of every hand: the cold, shiny screen of a TV, a monitor, a smartphone." However, the title is open to multiple interpretations, with an almost certainly intentional ambiguity. What each of the three episodes, connected through neither narrative, character nor universe, sets out to do is reflect the very worst that humanity can be, or could very easily become. The series holds a mirror up to us as inhabitants of the 21st Century and shocks us, even shows us something we dislike, but at the same time grips us and draws us in because so much of what we see is uncannily, uncomfortably familiar.

The series opens with an episode cryptically titled The National Anthem, focusing on the kidnap of Princess Susannah, a young and popular member of the royal family, and her kidnapper's demand for her safe release: the prime minister, Michael Callow (Rory Kinnear) must have sexual intercourse with a pig live on TV. It's arguably the series' most unsubtle concept, but what unfolds following the "in media res" opening is one of the most tightly scripted and performed political dramas seen in recent times. With echoes of the likes of The Thick Of It and The West Wing, the entire scenario is played out with palpable tension and a genuine "race against time" feel, and the ending is truly haunting in its moral. The performance from the entire cast led superbly by Kinnear as PM is comprehensively highly polished, giving the series an incredibly strong opening.

We move from the parallel yet unsettlingly familiar world of the first episode to a dystopian future with some disturbingly recognisable echoes in episode two, Fifteen Million Merits. This is the story of Bing (Daniel Kaluuya), a resident of a facility where everyone must pedal every day on exercise bikes to power their surroundings and earn "merits", a virtual currency. When Bing meets new resident Abi (Jessica Brown Findlay) and hears her sing, he offers to buy her a ticket to enter "Hot Shots", a talent show in the X Factor mould - an action which doesn't have the positive outcome Bing hoped for. Once again, the performances from the main cast is excellent, making Brooker's plastic-not-so-fantastic future all the more tangible. Aesthetically, the second episode is quite a departure for the first, but the satirical edge is just as sharp. Brooker's perceptive referencing of everything from internet pop-ups to Nintendo Wii avatars is sublime. His ghoulish extrapolation of TV talent shows into a Hobson's choice from hell - complete with an unsettling trio of judges in Ashley Thomas, Julia Davis and a deliciously dark turn from Rupert Everett - is constantly both entertaining and really quite frightening.

And so we move to the final episode, The Entire History Of You. Caught somewhere between the unsettling quasi-present of the first episode and the artificial Abaddon of the second, we find ourselves in a world where almost everyone is implanted with a "grain", a tiny device implanted behind the ear which records every moment of a person's life and allowing them to replay past memories, known as "re-dos". Liam (Toby Kebbell) is a young lawyer who becomes increasingly suspicious and paranoid of his wife Ffion's (Jodie Whittaker) fidelity, in particular fixating on her relationship with her friend Jonas (Tom Cullen) and obsessing more and more over "re-dos" of the two together. This is probably the most subtle of the three episodes in its approach, with many scenes feeling as though they could quite easily be set in contemporary Britain if it weren't for the characters' ability to "re-do" either within their own minds or on TV screens. It's also the only episode not written by Brooker himself, instead penned by Peep Show writer Jesse Armstrong. The satire here takes a backseat to human relationships, with the central pairing of Kebbell and Whittaker delivering two of the strongest performances of the whole series.

It's tricky to rank the three episodes from most to least successful, partly due to the high quality of all three, but also because, despite being part of the same series, each episode feels like a distinct story in its own right. If pressed, I would probably say that I enjoyed The National Anthem the most, with The Entire History Of You feeling least successful if only because it would have been fascinating to see how the world presented affected more than just one couple and a few of their friends and acquaintances. That's almost certainly the opportunity Downey Jr. has seen in obtaining the rights to that particular episode.

Black Mirror ultimately deserves to be judged as a whole. Simply put, this is one of the bravest, most original and expertly crafted TV series of recent times. Brooker pulls no punches in his message and his ambition, forcing you to sit up and take notice of his warts-and-all view of the world. The assembled cast is comprehensively excellent, with a number of genuinely memorable standout performances from key players across all three episodes. The first series of Black Mirror will stay with you long after the credits of each installment fade out, and it deserves to be recognised and remembered as a truly significant television event. I can't wait to see what Brooker has to offer in series two.

10/10

Film Review | Django Unchained (2013)

Promoting Django Unchained in an interview with Playboy Magazine at the end of last year, Quentin Tarantino was quoted as saying that "directors don't get better as they get older. Usually the worst films in their filmography are those last four at the end. I'm all about my filmography, and one bad film fucks up three good ones". Ironically, if there is any contemporary director whose output disproves this theory, it's Tarantino himself. And if Django Unchained ended up being his last hurrah, then what a spectacular way it would be to sew up Tarantino's beloved filmography.

Django Unchained in many ways feels like the spiritual and natural successor to Tarantino's most recent previous work, Inglourious Basterds, with the two films in conjunction feeling as though they hail a renaissance in the director's career. Tarantino is no longer the young upstart on the scene, the indie filmmaker who reshaped 1990s cinema with the one-two combo of Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction. That's not to say that his films no longer have the impact they once did. Quite the contrary in fact: Inglourious Basterds was so bold in its execution, so finely mastered by the man behind the camera, that it couldn't help but redefine war films for the modern era. Django Unchained does the same for the western genre, arguably with even greater success.

This is hands down Tarantino's finest story yet. From the opening scenes to the final moments, Tarantino the writer knows exactly where he's taking Django as well as every other character involved; Tarantino the director assuredly takes you along with them every step. This is intoxicating cinema, both brutal and beautiful - Django Unchained shows that the jawdropping cinematography of Inglourious Basterds was no one-off. Tarantino may beg, steal and borrow from his encyclopaedic passion for cinema when crafting his tales, but nobody can deny that he is one of the most artistically proficient filmmakers making movies today.

Tarantino's skill for drawing out the very best work from his actors is as robust as ever here. Jamie Foxx as Django is intense and immeasurably cool, developing the character over the film's effortless 165 minutes without putting a foot wrong. Alongside him is Christoph Waltz's dentist-turned-bounty-hunter Dr. King Schultz. It's almost unfair to compare Waltz's performance here to his enigmatic turn as Hans Landa in Inglourious Basterds, so I simply won't. Waltz is once again superb, immediately creating a captivating curiosity of a character who you can't help but warm to. Waltz regularly makes Schultz a genuinely funny character too, relieving some of Django Unchained's inherent heaviness with a perfectly timed quip or a charming demonstration of the Schultz's gift of the gab. The chemistry between Foxx and Waltz is palpable and rich, two fine actors on top of their game brilliantly glancing off one another wonderfully throughout.

If the film's first half belongs to Waltz and Foxx, then its second is firmly in the joint possession of Leonardo DiCaprio and Samuel L. Jackson. DiCaprio's incomparably vile plantation owner Calvin Candie is a villain for the ages, with the actor imbuing his creation with a heady mix of Southern hospitality and monstrous cruelty. Matching DiCaprio in detestabilty is Jackson as Stephen, Candie's aging Uncle Tom of a house slave. His is a performance as captivating as it is ire-inducing, the actor's finest since his last major role in a Tarantino film as Ordell Robbie in 1997's Jackie Brown.

Django Unchained comes together brilliantly as Tarantino's most mature work yet. The director strides assuredly and masterfully into his third decade of filmmaking with fresh ideas and increasingly impressive cinematic style and craft, whilst at the same time making clear that same burning desire and unbridled passion for every element of every moment of his films seen since his earliest work. During the same interview referenced earlier, Tarantino suggested that he may stop directing after his tenth film. If he follows through with this plan, it means we've got three more films to see from him yet. And if Django Unchained is anything to go by, we've potentially got some of the finest cinema ever created to look forward to.

10/10

Film Review | A Christmas Carol (2009)

Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol has received countless big screen adaptations, becoming just as much a cinematic staple as a literary one during the festive season. But with so many versions already out there, the challenge for any director bringing us a new take on the story of Scrooge is to bring something fresh and original to proceedings. Robert Zemeckis' choice to make Dickens' Christmas ghost story his third venture into CGI motion capture cinema, following 2004's The Polar Express and 2007's Beowulf, had the potential to be the perfect way to bring the supernatural elements of the tale to life. Unfortunately, it's a potential which the film only manages to partially fulfill.

If you don't know the story (and where have you been if you don't?), A Christmas Carol takes place one Christmas Eve, as miserable miser Ebenezer Scrooge (Jim Carrey) is haunted first by the spirit of his deceased business partner Jacob Marley (Gary Oldman), then by three ghosts representing Christmas Past (Carrey again), Present (and again) and Yet To Come (yep, Carrey too), in order to convince him to change his ways.

Zemeckis' A Christmas Carol really is a mixed bag; when it get things right, it gets them very right, but it also misses the mark by a considerable margin in several ways. It's often the most chilling and scary elements of the story which benefit the most from the motion capture treatment. The scene in which Oldman's Marley torments Carrey's Scrooge is one of the strongest and most memorable of the whole film. The inclusion of some of the often overlooked elements,such as the personification of Ignorance and Want as creepy children accompanying Christmas Present, are also welcome and inspired touches.

The casting decisions too run the gamut of success. Carrey as Scrooge is strong, but as the three Christmas Ghosts is less successful, distractingly adopting a strange and unconvincing Irish accent as Christmas Past and another which meanders around the north of England as Christmas Present. The same can be said for Oldman in his multiple roles: he is superb as Marley and good as Bob Cratchit, but the idea to use Oldman's face for Tiny Tim is both odd and unsettling - initially not all that noticeable, but once it hits you ironically it's more haunting than some of the ghosts.

It's in some of its more spectacular set pieces that the film feels least successful. Sequences such as Scrooge being shot up into the air on a giant candle snuffer by Christmas Past, or being chased through the streets of Victorian London by a demonic horse and carriage driven by Christmas Future, may showcase the film's technical mastery - as well as undoubtedly giving the immersive element in the 3D version (which I wasn't watching) some mileage. But they ultimately come across as soulless and a little overlong, as well as adding nothing to the story. A tale as ingeniously simple and effective in its concept and message as this doesn't need to have the lily gilded with overblown spectacle.

It's this that ultimately holds this version of A Christmas Carol back from being anything more than just good. There are elements here to enjoy a great deal in isolation, but as a whole the film fails to capture the spirit of Dickens' tale, preferring glossy surface level sheen to anything deeper or more heartfelt underneath. An ultimately ironic verdict for a story all about shunning the material side of life and embracing humanity.

6/10

Film Review | War Horse (2011)

My anticipation of War Horse was perhaps significantly less than that of many. I haven't read Michael Morpurgo's children's novel, now thirty years old, from which the film is adapted; nor have I seen the acclaimed West End production, perhaps most famous for its intricate and impressive full-size horse puppets and the realistic way in which they are brought to life by those operating them. In fact, the biggest draw of the film for me was Steven Spielberg sitting in the director's chair revisiting wartime Europe once again. Nominated for a multitude of awards, including a Best Picture nod as well as five other Oscars at this year's Academy Awards, War Horse certainly on paper held a wealth of potential to be another Spielberg classic.

Beginning shortly before the beginning of the First World War, War Horse follows the life of a horse named Joey, raised and trained by teenager Albert Narracott (Jeremy Irvine) on his father's (Peter Mullan) farm in the Devon countryside, before being sold to the British Army in 1914 when war breaks out.

Joey's story takes him through a wealth of settings, from his beginnings as an unlikely plough horse in Devon through to wartime France at various stages of the war. It's a journey which allows Spielberg as director to create some beautiful and captivating sequences. The cavalry charge beginning in a French cornfield is particularly memorable, as is the scene which sees a terrified Joey hurtling through both British and German trenches before becoming stranded in the middle of no man's land.

Unfortunately, the cinematography of these scenes can only be appreciated in isolation. Structurally, the film is decidedly unsatisfying, with Joey's story moving too hurriedly from one set of human characters to the next. No sooner do we feel settled in Spielberg's decidedly chocolate box vision of early 20th Century Devon at the start of the film than the director moves us on to a new set of characters. Tom Hiddleston as Captain Nicholls, Joey's next owner, is undoubtedly one of the film's strongest characters thanks to the talented actor's performance, but we simply aren't afforded the time to get to know him well enough to truly invest. It's a pattern which happens again and again until the film's conclusion thanks to the plot's rigidly episodic structure. It's a source of constant frustration: other enjoyable talents such as Benedict Cumberbatch, David Thewlis and Toby Kebbell receive just enough screen time for us to want to get to know them better, before being snatched from under our noses, thereby building up layer upon layer of unsatisfying and underdeveloped character arcs.

Tonally, the film ranges from the stark realism of the battle scenes, to the heavy-handed sentimentality of much of the final act, to - perhaps least satisfying of all - the ill-advised and amateurish humour generated by a meeting between a British and German soldier in the middle of no man's land, united in their desire to help the injured Joey. In the end, War Horse ends up as a film which never manages to develop fully, and doesn't have a strong or consistent enough script to prop it up. With a running time at least half an hour too long and a host of British talent that deserve meaty roles to sink their teeth into, but end up with extended cameos at best, it's a film which ultimately puts style over substance. Aside from a few directorial flourishes from Spielberg, War Horse ends up as a shallow and mediocre melodrama.

5/10

Film Review | Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011)

Boasting an impressive "who's who" of British acting talent (the only thing missing is a recent incarnation of Doctor Who), Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is Tomas Alfredson's first feature following his international breakout picture, 2008's atmospheric and inventive Let The Right One In. It's also the first and (currently) only film to earn veteran Gary Oldman a Best Actor Oscar nod. With such talent loaded within it, Tinker Tailor... has a lot of expectation to live up to.

Set in the 1970s in the midst of the Cold War, the film focuses on an investigation into the existence of a Soviet mole at the top of the British secret service, known by those who work there as "The Circus". The operation is led by retired MI6 agent George Smiley (Oldman), brought back to work outside of the agency specifically to handle the investigation. Smiley's inquiries leads to him crossing several former colleagues, including recently appointed Chief of MI6 Percy Alleline (Toby Jones) and his right hand man Bill Haydon (Colin Firth), as well as Roy Bland (Ciarán Hinds) and Toby Esterhase (David Dencik). One by one, Smiley narrows down his suspects, penetrating further into The Circus and its intricate web of secrets and relationships.

Moving from contemporary horror to Cold War espionage drama may not seem like the most obvious of moves for Alfredson, but it is clear from Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy's opening frames that Alfredson is a capable and talented director. He ably creates a tangible atmosphere of tension and paranoia, whilst giving his film a highly polished and authentic feel. Alfredson's Circus is claustrophobic yet imposing, with both gloomy hallways and lurid meeting rooms making it the perfect place for such a complex and cerebral story to unfold. Alfredson's choice of cinematography is just as impressive away from the halls of MI6: Smiley's house is a labyrinth of shadows, a mortuary adorned with mementos of a life given over to the secret service; an early sequence taking place in Hungary is also beautifully shot, giving the locale a sense of both grandeur and menace.

The performances throughout the film are also comprehensively excellent. Oldman superbly inhabits the character of Smiley, bringing to mind the quiet servitude of his portrayal of James Gordon in Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy whilst at the same time giving Smiley an ethereal, almost ghostly quality, generating a performance both sympathetic and subtly unsettling. The supporting cast are also incredibly strong, with impressive performances from both more established names such as John Hurt and Colin Firth as well as younger talents such as Benedict Cumberbatch and Tom Hardy. Alfredson is blessed in the talent he has to hand, but also deserves credit for weaving the performances together expertly, whilst ensuring Oldman's Smiley is never overshadowed.

Despite the high quality performances and stellar direction from Alfredson, I finished Tinker Tailor... feeling somewhat unsatisfied. Bridget O'Connor and Peter Straughan's script is immensely complex and cabalistic, regularly to the point of being incomprehensible. Whilst I relish films which challenge on a cerebral and intellectual level, and applaud writers and directors who refuse to saturate their films with unnecessary exposition, Tinker Tailor... unfortunately goes too far in the other direction and too often becomes frustratingly obtuse.

The key issue behind the confusing nature of the plot appears to be in O'Connor and Straughan's adaptation of the source material, John Le Carré's 1974 novel. Essentially, the film attempts to fit too much into its two hour running time. Unless you are already familiar with Le Carré's book (which I'm not) you're likely to be somewhat bewildered, unable to mentally elaborate upon some plot details yourself. The abbreviated nature of the film also means that several characters are never given more than a handful of scenes, and some who wind up as key players in the story by the film's conclusion feel lacking in characterisation leading to a somewhat anticlimactic feel as the film reaches its end.

I really wanted to enjoy Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy more than I did. I also genuinely feel that it is a film that will entertain me more the second time round as the plot will already be familiar. There's no doubting the acting and directorial excellence on display throughout the film, but this ultimately feels like a film made for those who already know Le Carré's novel. If you don't, then the complex and purposely disjointed nature of the plot's relation is quite likely to mar your enjoyment of the film as a whole during at least your initial viewing.

7/10

Film Review | The Rum Diary (2011)

Set in 1950s Puerto Rico, The Rum Diary follows the exploits of Paul Kemp (Johnny Depp), a down-on-his-luck writer who has moved to San Juan to work for a local newspaper. The title is take from the Hunter S. Thompson novel upon which the film is based, and is a reference to the fact that Depp's character and his companions spend a considerable amount of time in the film drinking, and intoxicated by, rum. The problem is, whilst getting drunk can be enjoyable for the person drinking, experiencing other people getting drunk when you're sober is often less enthralling.

The film's main strength is in its cast. Depp is fine in the lead, although more and more of his post-Pirates Of The Caribbean performances seem to have at least a smattering of Jack Sparrow within them and Kemp is no different. Whilst amusing, it can be a little distracting to suddenly hear a fictional pirate captain when you're meant to be watching a 1950s American journalist in South America. The supporting cast is also strong: Aaron Eckhart does well as smarmy businessman Sanderson, and Richard Jenkins is pleasing as Kemp's jaded and exasperated editor Lotterman. Potentially the film's standout performance however comes from Giovanni Ribisi as the extrovert and perpetually sozzled reporter Moberg. Ribisi is almost unrecognisable at first, his performance laced with bitter energy, his over-the-top actions making his character both comedic and pitiable.

The problems come from the film's structure, in that too often it just doesn't seem to have one. There are plot threads which can be followed through the film but they regularly feel underdeveloped. The story involving Eckhart's character concludes abruptly and rather unsubstantially, and several elements of the film's final act - particularly one involving a witch doctor - seem to come out of nowhere. Too many sequences throughout the film come across as episodic and unfocused. Essentially, the whole thing feels a bit too disparate to engage with on a truly satisfying level.

Ultimately, The Rum Diary ends up as a fairly enjoyable film, but never threatens to become anything genuinely memorable. Much like a conversation with a drunk person whilst you're sober, The Rum Diary is relatively entertaining but without anything of substance behind it, making you long for something more satisfying and meaningful too long before its conclusion.

6/10

Film Review | Reservoir Dogs (1992)

Reservoir Dogs celebrates its twentieth birthday this year. In the year of the film's release, Coppola's The Godfather was twenty years old and firmly established as one of the greatest crime dramas, and the greatest films, ever released. It's my strong conviction that, two decades on from when it was first seen, the same can be said of Tarantino's directorial debut.

The film tells the story of a diamond heist gone wrong, depicting the events leading up to and following on from the heist, but not the actual robbery itself. Most of the men involved don't know each other, using colour-coded aliases to refer to each other. As events unfold, Mr. White (Harvey Keitel) begins to form a bond with Mr. Orange (Tim Roth); at the same time, other members of the group, particularly Mr. Pink (Steve Buscemi), suspect that the heist was a set up with a rat amongst them.

From the very first scene to the very last, Reservoir Dogs is electrically charged cinema that demands your attention and rewards every minute of it. Tarantino's story is simple, often related using simple imagery - the colour-coded names, the black-and-white suits, the minimalist setting of a warehouse feeling almost like a theatrical stage - but also told with intelligence and skill that forces you to stay on your toes. Many of the director's hallmarks are first seen in this film and used to astounding effect. Tarantino is sharp and in complete control, knowing exactly what he wants you to see and how he wants you to see it. The "commode story" sequence is one of my all-time favourite pieces of cinema, and even after seeing it dozens of times it still sends shivers down my spine thanks to the craftsmanship and power behind every moment of the story-within-a-story-within-a-story. The script throughout is sharp, witty, compelling; if you ever needed proof that Tarantino is an artist behind the camera, Reservoir Dogs is it.

The cast are flawless, littering the film with a wealth of perfect performances, to the point that singling out any one performance seems unfair. Keitel and Roth are superb as the veteran criminal who allows his hard exterior to be penetrated by a first-timer; the scenes between these two are packed with genuine heart to the point that you often forget how despicable some of the things they are saying and doing are. Buscemi is a joy as Mr. Pink, frantic yet determined and, arguably, the one with his head most firmly on his shoulders. Michael Madsen's performance as Mr. Blonde is brilliantly unnerving, keeping us guessing as to exactly how demented he might be until a certain scene involving a policeman, a chair and a cutthroat razor lays his character bare.

Many hold up Pulp Fiction, Tarantino's next film, as the director's defining work. But as good as Pulp Fiction is, I will always choose Reservoir Dogs as holding that honour. It signified a new era in cinema of indie and arthouse values brought together brilliantly with traditional Hollywood ideology. It also announced Tarantino as a writer and director of whom the world needed to sit up and take notice. Most importantly of all, it's a piece of cinema as vibrant and aggressively engaging now as it was when it was first released, and one that I find impossible to fault.

10/10

Film Review | Carnage (2011)

Films based on plays are a curious breed; there are stylistic choices for the director, and none of them are the obvious selection. Do you take the story and characters of a play and retell it using solely the language of cinema, but risk displeasing both theatre fans and the playwright; or do you opt for essentially filming a stage performance, with all the facets of theatrical acting and direction, in the knowledge that what you create may alienate cinema-goers and feel somewhat underwhelming when compared to a full-on cinematic experience? Carnage opts firmly for the latter, and I can't remember the last time I saw such a strong argument for choosing this approach.

Based on the play God Of Carnage by Yasmina Reza, the film centres around a visit by one couple, Alan (Christoph Waltz) and Nancy Cowan (Kate Winslet), to the apartment of another, Michael (John C. Reilly) and Penelope Longstreet (Jodie Foster), after the Cowens' son strikes and injures the Longstreets' son with a stick whilst playing in the park. What starts as a brief and civil meeting to agree how the two boys can reconcile soon untangles into a much more tense and emotionally brutal affair.

As stated before, Polanski's film feels almost like a filmed performance on a stage, with the vast majority of the action taking place in one room in the Longstreets' Brooklyn apartment. There are a handful of scenes which venture into other rooms, as well as the action spilling into the apartment block hallway more than once, but this is a theatrical film with very little set changes. In this way, Polanski places pretty much all of his eggs in one basket, those eggs being the four actors playing the pair of couples.

It's a move which pays off dividends, with each performer putting in an incredibly strong performance. All four begin the film feeling somewhat forced and unnatural in their portrayals, but it soon becomes clear that this is entirely intentional, with each couple putting on a "performance" for the other. It's when the fur begins to fly that we truly see these actors at their best. Winslet is superb as the put-upon wife trying to make up for her husband Waltz's lack of care for middle class niceties and his constant preoccupation with his mobile phone. Both skilfully shed the layers of their facade as the situation unravels. Foster too is pleasingly strong as the doting mother and houseproud wife, slowly descending into hysteria and desperation. Of the four, Reilly is probably the least safe bet on paper, but he more than holds his own. Beginning the film as the buttoned-down hubby, he finally shows his true colours with a blistering performance from Reilly as an everyman on the edge.

The screenplay too, adapted by Polanski with original writer Reza, is an intoxicating powder keg waiting to explode. The first act of the film threatens to keep things largely civilised, but this is just Polanski waiting to signal the true nature of the uncomfortable yet ludicrously funny beast on show; once he does so, in spectacular fashion no less via one (involuntary) action of Winslet's character, things are firmly kicked into high gear until the credits roll. The dialogue fizzles with an enigmatic blend of realism and rhetoric, with only a couple of moments where what the characters are saying feels slightly too clever for its own good. These are minor niggles however in what is an exceptionally well-written film.

The mirror that the film holds up to a certain subset of society through these characters is hardly a new one, but the way in which Polanski does it has rarely been so entertaining. There is an intricate web of action and reaction, battle lines are drawn and redrawn with each character realigning themselves more than once. We move sublimely between character study to social satire to farce, with the whole thing poignantly put into perspective by the only two scenes set outside the apartment, shown to us behind the opening and closing credits. The brief running time of just under an hour and twenty minutes mean that none of the characters outstays their welcome.

Carnage establishes itself as a gem within theatrical film adaptations. It's smart, slick and deliciously over-the-top, with the quartet of actors at its centre making this the comprehensive success that it is. Polanski may not be the darling of the cinema world for reasons outside his work as a director; however, Carnage is a powerful statement of his expert directorial craftsmanship that still demands respect and the highest of praise.

9/10

Film Review | Cemetery Junction (2010)

When watching Cemetery Junction, it's often easy to forget that this is a film penned and directed by the same duo who brought us The Office. The feel of the movie is very different in many ways to what Gervais and Merchant have  created before. But there are key similarities between their first film written together and their earlier work. At times these pleasingly work just as well as they have done on the small screen; at others, they are nothing short of the film's downfall.

Set in Reading in the 1970s, Cemetery Junction follows the life of Freddie (Christian Cooke) as he starts a new job as an assurance salesman for Mr. Kendrick (Ralph Fiennes), father of his school sweetheart Julie (Felicity Jones). Whilst he strives to earn the respect of his new employer and colleagues, he also tries to keep the more carefree friends with whom he has grown up.

The film's authenticity in presenting a believable recreation of '70s Britain is commendable, as each detail down to the colour palette chosen by Gervais and Merchant gives the film a genuine nostalgic feel whilst at the same time not feeling cheesy or gimmicky. Much of the film's most successful humour is gleaned from it's temporal setting. After catching Freddie listening to a classical music LP, Bruce (a superb Tom Hughes) lambasts his best mate: "stop listening to music made by poofs. Stick on some Elton John".

But whilst there are several things Gervais and Merchant get very very right, there are also a few too many that they noticeably do not. Although the majority of the cast give solid performances, I felt throughout that the story we were watching - Freddie's - wasn't the most interesting that could have been offered. His is a pretty by-the-numbers coming-of-age tale with an ending that feels a bit too "happily ever after" to fit with the tone of the story that's preceded it, and Cooke's performance also feels a little lacking in substance at several points. Bruce's life, here only dipped into, would have been significantly more compelling if fleshed out as the film's main plot and, driven by Hughes' charged and enigmatic performance, would have produced something superior to what is offered.

The film's biggest failing is perhaps Gervais himself. There are several trademark Gervais-style exchanges throughout the film, usually between members of Freddie's family, which are somewhat at odds with the more realistic feel of the film. Gervais' performance as Freddie's factory-worker father just doesn't work. He only has a handful of scenes, but they drag the film down with the comedian giving a lazy and amateurish performance that just doesn't ring true to what was needed from the role. Gervais in fact doesn't even act; he is just Gervais, with his lines sounding just like something from his podcast collaborations with Merchant and Karl Pilkington.

Gervais' casting of himself in the film smacks of arrogance; casting a different actor in the part, or even reducing the character's role in the story, would have assisted the film overall a great deal. It's a shame that Gervais and Merchant's potentially most mature and well-crafted work to date is ultimately a casualty of Gervais' ego. Cemetery Junction, with a few key tweaks, could have been an excellent comedy-drama. As it is, it is simply good but flawed.

6/10

Film Review | Life As We Know It (2010)

The most popular way to freshen up the rom com formula these days is to either add in a twist that would usually appear in a serious drama film, or add in a baby. Life As We Know It does both. It should, mathematically speaking, therefore be twice as freshened up as the next freshened up rom com. For the most part, it's not.

Holly (Katherine Heigl) and Messer (Josh Duhamel) are the best friends of married couple Peter and Alison (Hayes MacArthur and Christina Hendricks) but share a mutual dislike of each other. When Peter and Alison are killed in a car crash, Holly and Messer are named as legal guardians for their one-year-old daughter Sophie. As they take on the task of raising Sophie, they have to come to terms not only with living their new lives, but living with each other.

Having Heigl as co-lead is the film's main point of strength, being as she is a likeable and talented presence; unfortunately here she comes across as something of a one-note character thanks to the flat scripting and direction. This is further exacerbated by the lack of chemistry between her and Duhamel's character, who also provides another of the film's key problems. Messer comes across as entirely unlikeable for a sizeable chunk of the film. One of the first things we see him do - during the opening credits no less - is to pretend to drop newborn Sophie as a joke. At best a heavy-handed attempt to show Messer as a poor candidate for fatherhood; at worst, a cheap and tasteless joke which assumes that child neglect is amusing.

In fact, a lot of Life As We Know It's humour comes from this assumption, which produces a fair few uncomfortable misses. Thankfully there are a handful of sequences that are actually quite funny, such as one where Holly and Messer wind down by watching some of Sophie's kids' TV programmes after eating a batch of "special" brownies. But even these provide short-lived relief as the film continually swings sharply in tone, meaning any uplifting feeling is usually dampened down by something depressing happening.

The film trundles towards its inevitable conclusion, taking about half an hour too long to do so, with Holly and Messer helped along the way by the one-dimensional neighbours who crop up as a collective every so often, and what little character development there is feeling shoved in hamfistedly when the writer realised the story couldn't carry on if one of the characters didn't change in some way. 

In essence, Life As We Know It doesn't make many more mistakes that your average rom com. The main issue is the extra elements that are thrown in - mourning young friends, unexpectedly raising someone else's child - and the fact that director Greg Berlanti really doesn't know what he wants to do with them in terms of tone or their function within the story. The result is a film that leaves you feeling just as unsure as to how you should take it, and that is ultimately underdeveloped and unsatisfying.

4/10

Film Review | Drive (2011)

Before watching, Drive was "that film snubbed by the Oscars this year" more than anything else in my mind. I'd heard plenty of good things about it, but by far the most common was that it was a crime that the film hadn't received a single award nomination from the Academy. Whilst undoubtedly an important event in the film calendar each year, the Oscars can't be seen as the be all and end all of great cinema. The films and individuals overlooked by the Oscar committee throughout the years are probably just as famous as the big winners. After watching Drive, I can see things from both sides; it's almost certainly one of the most stylish and well made films of last year, but it's not exactly Oscar bait either.

Drive tells the story of an unnamed man (Ryan Gosling) who works in a garage and as a stunt driver for films, but makes his real money by night as a getaway driver for hire. His life becomes complicated when he strikes up a relationship with his neighbour Irene (Carey Mulligan) and her son Benicio (Kaden Leos), especially after her husband Standard (Oscar Isaac) returns home from serving time in prison.

The film's success is pretty comprehensive; there is no one element that stands out as significantly lacking. Nicolas Winding Refn's direction is slick, polished and confident throughout; nowhere is this more clearly demonstrated than in the film's pre-credits sequence. Winding Refn makes brilliant use of light and dark as Gosling's driver makes his way expertly through night-time Los Angeles, knowing exactly what to do and when to do it to evade the authorities. The tense and moody atmosphere is created palpably through Winding Refn's choice of camera angles and colour palette, producing one of the most visually and cerebrally impressive opening sequences I can remember seeing in a film for some time.

The script is sparse, even minimalist at times, but is a masterclass in how to use a little to do a lot. Hossein Amini's screenplay constantly feels like a powder keg ready to explode through the characters' actions and voices, but at the same time is crafted with restraint meaning that when the action is manifested, often graphically, it packs the intended knockout blow.

It takes a strong cast to tell a story with no dialogue for minutes at a time, and Drive doesn't disappoint in this area either. The performances are excellent across the board, to the point that you wish that the more minor characters, such as Isaac's Standard or Christina Hendricks' Blanche, had more screen time simply to allow more opportunities to appreciate their performances.

This is Gosling's film, however. His performance as the unnamed driver is intoxicating, evoking classic performances from cinematic greats such as McQueen and Eastwood, whilst at the same time creating a modern and authentic character struggling with his desire to do good and his aptitude for activities caught somewhere between the immoral and the amoral. Gosling's performance smoulders under the surface expertly for the majority of the film, unleashing a shocking vibrance when he shows what his character is truly capable of, and becoming more and more violent as he sinks deeper and deeper into the criminal realm.

Finding fault with Drive is tricky. The film is purposefully and confidently slow-paced, and I only found it slightly too slow at points during the middle act as this is where the narrative progresses the least as character development takes priority. But from the opening sequence to the final scenes, Drive is a cinematic joy to behold. It's rare to experience a film so confident in what it wants to achieve, and so expertly crafted both in front of and behind the camera. Whilst not always an easy watch due the uncompromising violence depicted at times - almost certainly what kept the Oscar nominations at bay - this is undoubtedly one of the finest films of 2011.

9/10