reviewed by James Cheetham
jamescheetham.jcc@gmail.com
written for www.subtitledonline.com
Rare Exports, while technically a horror film, is your quintessential Christmas movie, a term that manages to conjure up images of bearded rotund men and a cherub chubby child out to discover an important life lesson – and it achieves all this. Just with an added bit of spice in the fact that Santa Claus is a horned devil man far more hell bent upon punishing the wicked children than ever bothering to shower gifts upon the good.
Making a merry stand against the coca cola created image of the Santa Claus we have these days, director Jalmari Helander makes a brave attempt in tearing down this accepted jolly creature and instead replaces him with a far more sinister character who’d have far more in common with the beasts found in the Grimm Brothers’ original fairytales.
As a man who quietly climbs atop our roofs and climbs down the chimney to enter our children’s bedroom solace, it would seem Santa Claus should have always been a character to fear and this is what happens to Pietari Kontio (Onni Tommila), the young Finnish boy-hero of Rare Exports who decides it is his duty to stop the evil ascension of Father Christmas.
Read the rest of the review at: http://www.subtitledonline.com/reviews/rare-exports-a-christmas-tale-2
reviewed by James CheethamTaking a change of pace from my usual horror movie fanfare, I took the opposite route last night and went down the dreaded romantic drama genre, and like a sucker for punishment, I made it a double bill. The two films of last nights candle lit date between me and my laptop being, Like Crazy and One Day.
Reviewed by James Cheetham
jamescheetham.jcc@gmail.com
http://www.subtitledonline.com/reviews/the-skin-i-live-in
The Skin I Live In, Pedro Almodovar’s latest cinematic tale, is his usual genre bending and gender twisting affair that weaves through a narrative of a sometimes mythical, other times all too human, scope that pounds through its running time like only a maestro filmmaker could orchestrate.
With a plot that can be dissected into three concise parts, which initially fail to offer much of a link other than the central character, but then ultimately and disturbingly clash into place, The Skin I Live In charts the unsettling dynamic between Antonio Bandera’s Madrid based scientist/doctor and his mysterious patient, Vera (Elena Anaya). It becomes evident that Robert Ledgard (Banderas) has been using Vera as a human specimen to uncover the depths science can reach in the field of face transplants and skin grafting, and events reach a frenzy when the son of Ledgard’s maid (Marisa Paredes) makes an unwelcome and over-due appearance.
As the hulking brute of a man intimidates his way into the lavish home of Ledgard, which also houses his laboratory and Vera’s room/prison, revelations are unleashed as a consequence of a harrowing sequence of violence. This then leads us into an Almodovar staple, a lengthy flashback to six years prior which gradually unfolds the history of Ledgard and Vera, eventually leading back to the present day catastrophe that becomes their relationship…
Almodovar shows us once again that he is a masterful storyteller, the narrative ticking along immaculately and failing to bore for one second, as elements of the plot slowly but beautifully unwind at a precise pace. It allows room for the viewer to piece plot threads together, but still gives room for the shock of the final outcome, when it finally reveals itself. He imbues the film with a fantastical element, in parts likening the film to fairytale imagery. When the Zeca, the maid’s son, barges in and manages to tear at their dysfunctional family unit of doctor, patient and maid, he is dressed as a tiger (having come straight from a carnival) and transforms into the ferocious beast ripping his way through the idyllic home and becoming the evil catalyst for what will soon develop.
Further connotations can be pulled from gothic literature, with The Skin I Live In displaying obvious parallels with Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, evolving the film into a modern day telling of the experimental creature and his/her battle with identity and the need to have his/her love reciprocated. In true Almodovar style then, The Skin I Live In becomes a story that toys with the barriers of sexuality and identity, the issue of gender becoming the ultimate backbone of the film during the final act.
Completing the film is Almodovar’s usual graceful control of the mise-en-scene, skewed angles, blazing fires, corridors back dropped with beautiful yet foretelling colourful paintings. The room in which Vera resides is an artwork within itself, the walls scrawled with dates, times, musing and drawings. Naked female forms etched onto the plain walls bare their genitalia as they lack faces and instead have small houses placed on their necks instead of heads, an intricate detail that showcases Vera’s internal conflict; a homeless individual whose main solace is a broken mind. The music accompaniment is of importance also; at times, reaching Hitchcockian levels, as strings unsettlingly wire through the score, the music coaxed in during moments when it is absolutely necessary and working as part of the film, rather than simply tacked on because it has to be.
While you could complain that it may not be a change of pace for Almodovar, as it fits into his usual format of filmmaking and dances with the same themes that are found in his past efforts, The Skin I Live In is still a majestic film. At times, it becomes one of his most genre pieces, as it tussles with themes the genre of horror is famous for, such as man’s forage into the depths of what he can manipulate the human body into, but he always grounds it with a level of realism that skews it to the realms of a drama/thriller. Each character has a different moral compass, and when you think you have found the villain of the piece, further plot developments cause judgements to be altered. Due to this, when the conclusion arrives, it is bittersweet — you can sympathise with each character but also demoralise then, making for a frustrating yet hypnotic climax.
This sense of bewilderment must also be attributed to the cast, Banderas’ and Anaya’s efforts are as effective as the script in creating characters who dovetail through a sea of ambiguity — in the wrong hands, this would have come across as unbelievable and farcical. Elena Anaya stands out especially, sauntering through moments of tragedy and mistrust, her eyes the magnetic tether between the audience and her character — a stand out scene being a flashback to her wearing a black skin tight suit and a plastic material face mask, the only visible feature being her eyes as they maniacally stare out as she attempts an escape.
As a film that skips between genres and isn’t afraid to lash out a bit of crimson gore when needed, The Skin I Live In is not necessarily going to be a film that suits everybody’s tastes. It has a few graphic scenes that shock and plot points that shock even more, but any established fan of Almodovar is going to come away pleased, as will film fans who enjoy to be pulled along on an intelligent and sometimes maddening ride.
5/5
Reviewed by James Cheethamjamescheetham.jcc@gmail.com
Keeping up with the modern trend of social media, something that seems to have rapidly afflicted our society and become an obsession, horror films of recent years have quickly begun to encompass these mediums of communication to create new methods of terror. Chain Letter is one of the latest editions employing this stance on horror, attempting to expand upon the simple formula of a hack’n’slash film to incorporate the device of an internet chain letter which works as effectively as scrawling a big red X on each one of the victims foreheads.
Taking a page out of The Ring’s rulebook, a film that can be seen to be one of the most influential horrors of recent years, Chain Letter abides by similar conventions, with the only escape from a painful, gruesome death being the passing on of this chain letter via email. It is an interesting idea that, with a bit more effort put in, could have resulted in an intriguing film, the premise of signing away a friend’s life by clicking the mundane ‘send email’ button to save your own skin playing into darker themes of guilt and sacrifice for personal gain. Unfortunately, Chain Letter doesn’t make too much of an effort to explore this side of things, and decides to focus more upon the killer, a hugely scarred man who has a fetish for metal chains.
This means the premise of the film, the chain letter, is put on the back burner and instead the camera focuses in upon this monster who, for no reason explained, decides to slay a handful of high school teens. Unlike successful villains of classic horrors, such as Freddy Krueger and Hannibal Lecter who inspire a real sense of villainy due to their lack of motivation, the villain of Chain Letter is lacking in any kind of depth to give this absence of reasoning to his chain letter killings any sinister sway. Eventually he turns into more of a comical figure as you see this hulking mass of a serial killer perched over a computer screen looking on facebook, evolving Chain Letter into a parody, unwittingly poking fun at the idea of films that merge together elements of horror with social media platforms.
Reviewed by James CheethamThe haunted house is a popular trope in the world of horror, warping the friendly nature of the family dwelling into a place of uncanny supernatural energy where theoretically, the home no longer becomes a home. Playing into this successfully exploited phenomenon is Adam Gierasch’s Fertile Ground, most recently seen this year at the After Dark Original Horrorfest Weekend.
Reviewed by James Cheethamjamescheetham.jcc@gmail.com
Rather than making any effort to rejuvenate the narrative beats of the last film, The Hangover 2 simply devolves into the first film but set in Bangkok. The tiger is replaced with a drug running monkey and the baby is swapped for Mr Chow, Chow being the only plot device that manages to bring in some semblance of hilarity.
Instead of coming across as the light-hearted disaster-com of the first film, The Hangover 2 almost seems to try to approach the genre of dark comedy, minus the comedy. The hung-over patriots are now slugged through a ream of horrific situations involving one getting shot, the dismemberment of fingers and one drunkenly having sex with another man. Any moments that could have allowed for comedy are killed with unintelligent dialogue, one example being the scene that reveals to the horrified Stu that he had sex with a man, the humour being shot down mercilessly with distasteful writing; “I shoot my load into you and you shoot your load onto the floor.” Awkward silence. Any moments of enjoyable word play come from Mr Chow, “Hola! City of Squalor!” but these are few and far between.
Rather than develop what will no doubt become a sequel laden franchise into an unexpected comedy romp, The Hangover 2 makes no effort to switch things up and with it hitting the same beats as the last, the ridiculous surprises that made the first offering so enjoyable are now gone.
2/5
Unlike his previous endeavours, which focus upon political and emotional injustices and dramas, (i.e his other Matt Damon vehicle, Invictus) Hereafter is a different animal altogether, instead awkwardly attempting to juggle themes of the afterlife and psychic reverberations.
Charting three alternative narratives, and trying to merge the trio together, we are treated to one plot involving Damon and his unfocused and burdened psychic ability, a young boy who’s grieving the loss of his twin brother in London, and Cecile de France who narrowly escaped death due to a tragic tsunami.
These three plots are loosely connected, each one shuffling along at a fairly slow rate, and when they do finally conjoin it is so late in the game that there is no satisfying pay off.
Unfortunately, this means Hereafter bumbles along at a badly structured and uninteresting pace, the only memorable moment being the CGI laden tsunami sequence which acts as the exciting and promising opener of the film, the only other draw of the rest of the run-time being Damon's portrayal of a damaged psychic, doing his best with a fairly shoddy and somewhat embarrassing script. ("It's not a blessing...it's a curse!" *audience rolls eyes*)
Instead of exploring the mysterious depths of the myths of the afterlife, Hereafter comes across just as bland as its depictions of the ghost's limbo dimension; boring and lifeless.
2/5
Unlike many remakes, Let Me In is not a bad film, far from it. But its existence is fairly pointless (much like other recent remakes such as Quarantine, the unneeded remake of Rec), with characters and themes all being tackled in the same way as the original and not really attempting anything radically different. The only two differences that crop up are the obvious language differences and the acting.
Let Me In lacks the atmosphere of the original with the melodrama being more evident in the remake and over fraught, something that eats away at the mysteriously sinister nature of the characters/relationships. The lead actors are not bad in any sense, but appear average when compared with the otherworldliness of the leads from Let The Right One In. They simply do not have the same chemistry or depth.
If viewed alone, Let Me In would have been a great film, but with the Swedish version having beaten the Hollywood edition to the punch, this film comes across as lacking and merely rolls along, always slightly missing out on the magic of Let The Right One In.
Pulling strings from classics such as The Wicker Man and Don’t Look Now, Wakewood toils with a married couple who recently lost their daughter and move to the British countryside village of Wakewood.
As events progress and the mystical underbelly of Wakewood is revealed, our appetite for the sinister is fed and things evolve to involve sacrificial rituals, resurrection, creepy villages and plenty of bloody murder.
Whether director David Keating has made the effort to direct Wakewood to give it a slight hammer horror amateurish atmosphere, or simply lacks the talent is not 100% clear as the direction is sometimes uneven and doesn’t manage to achieve a balanced style throughout. However, the use of abrupt zoom-ins add to the classic horror feel and the plot weaves along in similar clichéd aplomb.
Wakewood makes for a vaguely entertaining yarn, but the lack of originality is hard to overlook even with the rather entertaining finale.
Somewhere
Reviewed by James Cheetham
As an avid fan of Lost in Translation, I knew I was going to love this film. And while I can’t quite decide whether Somewhere topped it, I know that I definitely developed a deep fascination with it.
Sofia Coppola’s latest is rife in a quiet brilliant beauty that instils every single frame with a certain elegance. Whether this is an elegance of innocence, hope, self-destruction or sleaze, it spills from the screens as the camera slowly crawls through the life of fictional A-list celebrity Johnny Marco (Stephen Dorff) and his 11 year-old visiting daughter (Elle Fanning).
The two central performances are tone perfect. Dorff creates a living crack that allows you to peak into the downside of a hedonistic-led life, and Elle Fanning juxtaposes his performance with a shy confidence that hides a pre-pubescent tirade of emotions and hormones soon to come.
Coppola sticks to what she knows and doesn’t try to develop a different style just for the sake of it. Somewhere has the same meandering essence that Lost in Translation was soaked in, but it works for the development of the characters and the slow moving plot, resulting in a strong sense of alignment between the characters and the viewer . This is put to good use within the moments of drama, and while not frequent, when they happen they become wonderfully intimate and hypnotic moments that showcase the talents of Coppola.
If you like your films slow-moving yet immensely satisfying, Somewhere is a must-see. An accomplished piece of cinema that calls for further viewings and satiates a hunger within cinephiles such as myself who will find themselves calling for further Sofia Coppola films to be brought into creation.
5/5
The Adjustment Bureau Review
To be perfectly honest, I’ve had enough of Matt Damon and his damn running. The Bourne films were awesome, mainly because he interspersed his running with the odd face jab or kick, but it seems to becoming more prevalent that Damon is basing his roles on the amounting of running within the script.
His most recent role finds him chasing a lost love, a girl he should have ended up with, but due to various fantastical reasons, his destiny with her was dodged, changed, and warped, (so he’d become the president of the United States. Obviously.)
With this relationship as the foundation of the narrative, The Adjustment Bureau becomes a romance film wrapped loosely within the trimmings of scifi/fantasy. Fantasy you ask? Yes, because the main plot device of the film is the use of angel-like creatures. They are men in suits who mince around in bowler hats with little notepads that reveal the life maps of people, life maps that they must ensure are followed.
These bowler-hat men meddle in the everyday lives of humans to make sure we all reach our ultimate goals and generally just walk around using free will to wipe their ass. Why? Because last time they let us live by free will we invented genocide. Go us.
So they are involving themselves in our mess to make sure the human species eventually climbs towards its finale.
Matt Damon’s character sidesteps his controlled fate when he meets a ballerina played by the marvellous Emily Blunt. The chemistry between the two is brilliant and makes his constant pursuit of her believable. But with his fawning after her meaning he is not reaching his written destiny the angels become involved, attempting to break the two up. The excitement of the film doesn't really kick in until the end when there is a chase scene and a whole lot of jargon is spilled out into the film, which ultimately just leads to Damon running around a lot. Again. And after all the running? A boring deux ex machina that will have most eyes rolling in annoyance.
So prior to the final triathlon, The Adjustment Bureau is simply rather a lot of romantic yearning and composition driven dialogue via suited men. Overall? Not nearly entertaining enough and it falls into the frequent trap of; seen the trailer? seen the film.
2/5
With a schedule of full-time work and busy weekends, my attention to my writing has dropped significantly. So in a bid to motivate myself back into writing, I've decided to try and keep up a steady flow of film reviews by shortening them and making them snappier.
Being a Woody Allen film about love, life and relationships, You Will Meet A Tall Dark Strangerbegins just as you'd expect; with the black and white opening title credits, the jaunty music, and the inevitable narrator. After dire offerings such asCassandra's Dream, it is an opening that will put you in the mindset that this is Allen back to doing what he does best. Despite the fact that you may have an inclination of how the narrative will unfurl and the type of dilemmas the characters will encounter, you can't help but find yourself with that content smile plastered across your face in anticipation for the following Woody Allen frivolities.
Like past successes such as Hannah and Her Sisters and Vicky Christina Barcelona, You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger, handpicks a few characters, highlights their love life and zooms in on the day to day catastrophes that unwind amongst family members, careers and everyday home life.
Firstly we have the married couple of Alfie (Anthony Hopkins) and Helena (Gemma Jones), whose marriage is breaking down due to Alfie's mid-life crisis and his need to return to his younger fitter days. Their daughter, Sally (Naomi Watts), is also having marital issues with her hubby, Roy (Josh Brolin), a struggling writer who is putting off the idea of having kids and instead finds himself transfixed with the beauty in the red dress, Dia (Freida Pinto), who resides in the opposite building block.
As the narrative continues, further spanners in the works are introduced, mainly in the form of Sally's seductive art gallery boss, Greg (Antonia Banderas) and Alfie's new and much younger fiancé, Charmaine (Lucy Punch).
As the characters bump into each other and interact, the relationships twist and turn into an inevitable conclusion of disaster but Allen imbues this with his token dark humour that makes you laugh and cringe. You feel sympathy for the characters as things fall apart, but in equal measure feel as if they deserve all the mess they find themselves in due to their rather selfish wishes. We all want that perfect lifestyle of career and lover, and the reality is that not everyone will achieve that dream job while continuing a passionate and committed relationship.
The acting is passable, nothing particularly stand-out, other than the hilariously over-the-top performance from Lucy Punch, who drains as much comedy-gold chavness from Charmaine as possible. Naomi Watts is far from bad, but she does suffer from the problem of the occasional wooden line-delivery due to her faux British accent, an affliction seen with other actresses such as Natalie Portman in V for Vendetta.
Being no exception from many other Woody Allen films, ...Dark Stranger makes the setting of the film as much of the character as the people. Returning to the city of London after exploring it in other films such as Match Point, we are given a rather warm looking England with hues of orange, a colour sometimes out of place from the usual greys used to depict the city. But while ...Dark Stranger is less of a love-note to the city as seen in his love for New York in Manhattan or Annie Hall, it is nice to see London presented as a vibrant place, unlike the boiling pot of crime and hoodlums as it is usually seen as.
You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger concludes in the usual Woody Allen open-ended nature. Nothing is truly solved and the only character who is left somewhat content is that of Sally's mother Helena, the woman who gives the film its title in the first place due to her frequent visits to a psychic. Helena may be the furthest from a real sense of reality as she embroils herself in the worlds of fortune-telling and mysticism, but she ends up the happiest.
So maybe that's the moral of Woody Allen's tale; don't bog yourself down with the inevitable acceptance of reality and instead find a level of contentment in your own ridiculous illusions.
3/5
Written for www.onthebox.com
The Bieber epidemic that seems to have gripped the world as effectually as a medieval plague is everywhere, so it was inevitable that our mainstream cinema screens would not be spared their own bout of tween fever. Bombarding our screens in 3D, we can all join together and squeal in (attempts at) pre-pubescent joy as a larger-than-life version of Bieber looks out of the screen and points at us mid-song. It’s like being on stage with him! Joy! (*scoff*)
Putting that sarcastic scoff aside, the truth of the matter is that Never Say Never is not quite as laughable as the various naysayers will have expected it to be, and as the likelihood of cynics going within five miles of a screening are remarkably low, it should delight the screaming girl-children that flock to see it. However, any biopic of someone aged 16 is of course ridiculous and clearly serves only on£ purpo$e. But while this concert movie-slash-documentary goes some way towards explaining the phenomenon of Bieber Fever, we get nowhere nearer to understanding Bieber the boy.
The concert parts of the film will be as intoxicating for a Bieber fan as heroin was to Renton. They are slathered on to the big screen in sumptuous 3D and colour, displaying various performances with many special guest stars. The equally-nauseating Miley Cyrus makes an appearance, as does Usher in all his pop-locking glory and we are also treated to the croonings of Boyz II Men and Sean Kingston. The other parts are an amalgamation of home videos, YouTube clips and back-stage shenanigans.
One strange point that has to be made about NSN is that despite the fact that this is a film revolving around the life of Justin Bieber, not once do we actually have any sort of interview with the singer or the chance to delve into how he feels about the furore that surrounds him. It is a master class in how to promote while also protect a celebrity product; the audience watches 105 minutes of this film and feel as if they have somehow got to know the star, in reality we get nowhere near the personality of the lad. Instead we have countless interviews with the people that surround him; his mum, (who gives eye-rolling moments of pure Americana cheese), his grandparents and the touring management that all form the ‘functioning dysfunctional’ Bieber family.
One of the members of this awful crowd is the stylist; if the Oscars suddenly decided to add in ‘The Biggest Douche Bag’ category to their annual shindig, then he would be rightly stood at the podium accepting the award in a few weeks time. He seems to froth through a tirade of hideous yelps and impressions in some strange attempt to be ‘down’ with the Bieber and therefore the kids, and the worst thing is that Bieber seems to love the man. If that was me I’d be using my star power to invest in some cyanide.
2/5
http://channelhopping.onthebox.com/author/james-cheetham/
A collection of my articles/reviews/news stories for onthebox.com.
127 Hours is an interesting film to witness, with the majority of the running time dedicated to James Franco's portrayal of self-proclaimed adrenaline junkie Aron Ralston and his time within the secluded and isolated world of the canyon prison. Although the narrative hits all the regular beats of appreciating family, making the most of your love life and never taking anything for granted, it approaches the themes in an entertainingly fun and unique way, giving us surrealistic flashbacks through Aron's life as dehydration sets in and hallucinations begin to border in on his psyche. In this sense you could argue that the film does not take place solely in this canyon but in the mind of Aron as he accepts the fact that death is imminent and his imagination begins to take over. Even Scooby-Doo makes a guest appearance. As most of you will know, Ralston escapes eventually, at the tether of his sanity, his liberator being a cheap pen knife. This escape occurs during a sudden moment that pricks the screen violently; Ralston stabbing his arm after applying a tourniquet and continuing his self-mutilation by cracking the bones and finally hacking his forearm off (the limb that has caught him between the rock and the canyon wall). Aron stumbles out into the sunlight from his vacation in his personal hell, with the crack in the world that swallowed him up finally defeated. It is a triumphant moment that could have mistakenly been depicted as something miserably gloomy, with the protagonist having just chopped his own arm off. Instead it is just this, triumphant and liberating, Boyle not focusing upon the hideous nature of what is occurring. However, the process of the amputation is terrifically squeamish, the pain and the sound effects almost jittering the pain of his situation through into the audience's teeth as nerves are hit and blood is split. James Franco took on a huge responsibility when taking on this role and he gives a knock out performance. If it wasn't for Colin Firth's outstanding performance in The King's Speech, Franco would be a high contender for Best Actor during this year's award season. He dives between moments of humour and scenes of tragedy, the tipping of a few drops of water turning into moments of teary horror. Franco's Ralston comes across in equal measures of annoying selfishness and loveable yet tragic hero. If it wasn't for his ego and obsession with becoming 'Aron Ralston, Hard Hero Man', he would have informed a relative of his whereabouts. Instead he has opted for the mirage of untethered adventurer, ignoring family and friends and going about things his way. It is a tough personality to depict whilst trying to keep the audience rooting for Ralston, and Franco balances his performance perfectly. Like all of his past efforts, Boyle's film is further improved by a tremendous soundtrack, teaming up with Slumdog Millionaire's composer A.R.Rahman once again and offering us pounding music to accompany the opening scenes of the film and Aron's pursuit of adventure. Boyle's camera work is quirky and fun also, littering the film with split screen effects and surreal hallucinations of blurriness. The films only quibble would be near the end of Ralston's time in the canyon and the sometimes rather cheesy scenes involving his family all collected together around a sofa watching him as a heavenly light washes them in a glow. Franco's earlier shadowed speeches into his video camera saying thank you and sorry to his family are far more moving and desperate than the hallucinations, and their work is somewhat undone when the helpless gloomy atmosphere the film has acquired is disrupted by these over the top images. 127 Hours, sometimes beautiful, other times harrowing, is a wonderfully unique film showcasing brilliant filmmaking and a stand out performance, completely justifying its position within this award seasons' handful of films. 4/5
So it would seem the film world is all in a flapper after the Golden Globes. He won this, she won that, this film won whatsit. However, one of the biggest talks of tinsel town this month has been the, homely-girl-next-door actress, Natalie Portman. She has managed to sweep up a whirlwind of pre award season chatter with her performance in Darren Aronofsky's latest film, Black Swan, critics and fans goading her on for Best Actress, which she indeed won at the Golden Globes, and rightly so.
It is odd to use the following phrase in conjunction with Portman, an already established actress, but watching this film is like watching an actress being born, or in this case, reborn. Black Swan is a masterstroke of cinema, a blot of brilliance on the landscape of Hollywood that many a film snob like to make snide comments upon; Hollywood, an industry affected by sequel-titus and afflicted with reboots and remakes. And then Darren Aronofsky comes along, and presents us with this film. And what a film.
The reason for the usage of the earlier description of 'homely-girl-next-door', was to show the real transformation Portman bestows upon herself in her role as Nina Sayers, high rising ballet dancer who has dreams of being cast as the Swan Queen in the latest reimagining of the infamous ballet, Swan Lake. She begins as a porcelain gentle and fragile girl with an over bearing mother figure, their relationship showing parallels to the destructive mother-daughter relationship of Brian De Palma's also brilliant, Carrie.
Nina comes across as an isolated figure, regularly sat by herself in the backstage corridors of the dance halls, girls giving her snide comments and malicious giggles. But although fragile, there is a hard rigid mask to her that encases the character of Nina within her own secular world. From the outset the character is one of paradoxes, hard and private yet apologetic and sympathetic. When she manages to reach her dream and is cast as the Swan Queen, this inner character of inconsistencies begins to come untethered as multiple dominant figures impinge on her sanity. Nina is torn in different directions that only allow for further dots of insanity to weasel their way into this private and enclosed world she strives to live in.
But fill a bowl with too much water and it will eventually overspill, and this is just what happens, Portman spectacularly delving into the over spilling psyche of a damaged girl who cannot cope with the controlling figures leering over her. As stated, Natalie Portman becomes a whole new actress, a powerhouse of acting talent with the watchful eyes of Aronofsky directing her to perfection. As the transformation from white swan to black afflicts Portman's character, we are instead presented with an altogether different swan; a grey swan, a swan of madness and disaster, a swan who is attacked by horrific hallucinations that terrorise Portman and her audience in equal measure.
Nina dips in-between the different coloured worlds and their rules, finding sexual adventure in the world of the black swan, brought about through Vincent Cassel's Swan Lake director, and Mila Kunis' seductive fellow ballet dancer. And as she falls further down the rabbit hole, we find her constantly trying to climb back out, back to the sensibilities of the white swan and her formulaic box shaped world that she inhabited prior to her Swan Queen casting.
Aronofsky brings his touches of genius to the film-making, elevating what would have already been a fascinating film into a classic piece of cinema. His camera drops us suddenly and abruptly into his claustrophobic narrative world from the outset, the camera always in close, trapping the audience within Nina's self-created world and keeping us in touch with a character who is so out of touch. It creates a rollercoaster ride for the audience and makes for an incredibly intense film as the moments of surreal hallucinations tear holes in what would have been a consistent narrative.
But rather wonderfully this inconsistent narration brings about ripples of uncertainty as we are sucked into a dimension of doppelgangers and untrusted shadowed reflections. It is hard to find a single scene in the film where there is not a mirror, presenting us with as many different versions of Nina as she seems to have of herself in her head. And yet again praise upon Portman for giving us this believable portrayal of so many characters wrapped up within a single entity. The final complete transformation into the black swan is an incredible moment to behold.
Of course further praise goes to Aronofsky for his pitch perfect direction of Portman and his control of the camera. The initial opening dream sequence has the camera wrap in amongst the tittering feet of Portman, his hand held shots strangely not tearing away the glamour of ballet but improving it. With his sweeping and up-close camera, something that could have torn down the veils of the magic of ballet manoeuvres but instead escalates it into even more of a poetic art form. These scenes are then juxtaposed against the realistic back stage breaks and tears of the performer's feet and the strain these athletic bodies are put under once the magnetism of the dancing has faded.
Black Swan is every bit a Darren Aronofsky film as his past endeavours. As he has stated, it is a follow up to his previous film The Wrestler and Black Swan does indeed play out like his sequel, both films delving into similar themes. The pocket-marked and scarred hulking form of Mickey Rourke is now replaced with the delicately torn and coming apart at the seams figure of Portman's ballet dancer, Rourke's damaged heart replaced with Portman's damaged mind. But then it could be stated that the dark moments of the film that look into the recesses of a person's mental state as they fall apart under the pressures of their God given talent, has more in connection with what Aronofsky presented us with in his debut feature film, Pi.
It is easy to sit here all day and glorify Black Swan but it is a film that simply has to be witnessed to be believed. At times disturbingly scary and others emotionally intense, it is a masterpiece that is brought about through superb performances and incredible direction that will suck you into the unstable world that the film sets out to create.
By the time the credits are rolling you'll find yourself stuck within the landscape of Nina's broken mind, victim to the same limbo she has been afflicted by, with the lasting effects of Darren Aronofsky's intrusive film washing over you. In short, Black Swan is a massive film that deserves a massive audience.
5/5
Written for www.devilsdeeds.com
We find ourselves at that point in time again, where everything else occurring seems unimportant and the world begins to spin backwards, propelled by the constant blabbering mouths and typing fingers as the debating and discussing of the awards season commences. Hello Golden Globes, Hello Baftas, Hello Oscars. Yes, it is that time again.
As one of the big contenders for a plethora of awards this season, The King’s Speech has had a lot of buzz and talk circulating around it. But this can sometimes hinder a film, its expectations raised sky high and then dropping when the audience finally clambers into their cinema seat and realises it was all hot air. Thankfully, The King’s Speech is not one of these, not in the slightest. And let me raise those expectations even higher for you, because it is an utterly brilliant, moving and oddly intense piece of cinema that inspires, enthrals and most importantly, makes you proud to be British.
Charting the rise of King George VI and his constant battle with his stammer, The King’s Speech on paper sounds like an odd film that could, in the wrong hands, come across as somewhat dull. In Tom Hooper’s skilful hands and with Colin Firth at the helm of the role as King George VI, it becomes wonderfully intriguing and captures your attention immediately.
The main draw of the film is the unlikely friendship that gradually forms between King George VI and his speech therapist, Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush). It is a slow moving friendship that is sometimes hampered by the sudden angry outbursts of King George, or Bertie as he is referred to by family and Logue, his patience worn thin through a life time of being unheard. But it is a beautifully depicted friendship that weaves throughout the film gracefully, the world of Logue, an everyday out spoken ‘commoner’ forcefully meshing with the ravishingly wealthy yet uptight world of the Royals.
The film not only gives us insight into the true story of this friendship but also the family dramas of the Royal family. We find Bertie’s older brother David inheriting the throne yet dismissing his duty for his love of a (shock horror) twice-divorced American, causing scandal amongst the Royal family. With World War II approaching and an almost medieval family feud erupting, Bertie eventually finds himself ascending to the throne, with the daunting duty of fulfilling a wartime speech to Britain looming ahead. Ultimately, the climax of the film comes down to Bertie’s delivery of his speech, a speech that will hold him up as the symbol of British pride, a speech that must gather the strands of his country together and put up a verbal front against Nazi Germany. For the brief minutes of his speech, he must become Britain. No pressure then…
It is shocking how incredibly intense this climax becomes, with various close-ups of Firth’s perpetually struggling face as he fights his way through the English language, dicing up the footage as it cuts between different groups of the British public. It is a technique used throughout the film to great effect; Firth’s shirts are always buttoned up as high as possible, contorting his entire body and character into this expression of red faced and clucking frustration, pulling the audience into the world of sympathising bystander, unable to help. He does a brilliant job of realistically portraying this rather violent stammer, not once falling into a parody and always shifting skins like a snake between roles of family man and reluctant ruler, wrapped within boyhood phobias imparted to him through the sins of his father. In short, he is a human being, abundant in contradictions and mistakes while also having to stand as the figurehead of a nation. All I can say is look up Oscar winner in the Dictionary; you’ll see a picture of Colin Firth right there. His performance is simply fantastic.
The supporting cast is perfect, with Helena Bonham Carter jostling through her role as the late Queen Mother in her prime; in a hilarious montage of speech training techniques, she sits on her husband’s chest as he breathes in and out - and is clearly having fun. Believe it or not, the Royals can actually have fun. Geoffrey Rush is entertaining also, storming through his role as out spoken colonial Australian who refuses to give into the initial ‘mightier than thou’ attitude of King George VI.
David Seidler’s script patiently allows each character to breathe, with Tom Hooper’s camera drawing all the attention to the characters while simultaneously licking up every gorgeous detail within each environment. Logue’s brown toned work space is pitted against the dripping luxury of Buckingham Palace, the production design of each location speaking volumes, with the golds of the Palace almost swallowing Firth up in their dominant splendour, while Logue’s paper stripped yet uniquely coloured walls give him room to breathe and control the space.
The King’s Speech has quietly crept into the world’s subconscious, a tale singing inspirational triumph while also championing friendships that can be found in the oddest of places. It is a remarkable piece of cinema that neither bores nor underwhelms and keeps an emotional attachment throughout, certain scenes involving Firth’s realisation of his duty lasting mere minutes but managing to evolve into powerhouse moments of emotion.
More British than dipping one of the Queen’s corgis into a vat of marmite and sending it off down the Thames on a union jack, The King’s Speech is the film to be championing this year as the award season beckons, the British takeover of the Oscars 2011 is imminent.
5/5
Written for www.suite101.com
Everyone has bad days. You might miss the train to work, get splashed by a passing car, and then finally return home to find your oven broken and the central heating down. While you wallow in self-pity on the sofa, try watching The Next Three Days and you’ll realize things could be worse. You could in fact be locked in prison serving life for a crime you didn’t commit with no chance of a successful appeal to prove your innocence. How's that for perspective?
Crash director Paul Haggis’ latest film, The Next Three Days, centres around such a dilemma. Russell Crowe plays John Brennan, a man who must deal with the fact that his wife, Lara Brennan, (Elizabeth Banks) has abruptly been imprisoned for murdering her boss. Not even considering the fact that she could be guilty, he fights her corner, and when any chance of an appeal fails, he takes drastic action against the officials who have snatched his life away and ruined his son’s childhood. He is going to break her free from Pittsburgh prison - one of the biggest urban prisons in America.
First things first, this is a remake of a French film, Anything For Her. While we could focus upon this fact, gripe and moan about the state of Hollywood and its evolution into a remaking and rebooting machine, instead, let’s not. Let’s simply judge this film on its own credentials
The initial opening scenes of the film are well crafted character introduction pieces. The Brennan family is established nicely with a kitchen scene involving amusing bickering and loving comments thrown in for good measure. However, as soon as we settle in with the Brennans, everything is violently torn apart. A patch of blood is discovered on Lara Brennan's coat and the situation suddenly escalates from a household moment of washing an unknown stain off a coat into a brutal police intervention.
Paul Haggis then begins to craft a wonderfully moving drama, Russell Crowe and Elizabeth Banks' finest moment in the film is the realization that the chance of an appeal has failed. Neither speaks a word but both flood with emotion, breaking down on either side of a prison partition glass at the prospect of her life sentence being just this; Life.
Once the realization that she will not be getting out of prison anytime soon hits, Brennan undertakes the ridiculous task of breaking her free. The tale then evolves from the moving family drama to that of the fable of David vs Goliath; the everyday man VS the police system. It is here where the credibility starts to fade and Brennan evolves into a gun toting criminal, breaking into medical vans, participating in drug den shoot outs and dumping bodies at bus stops.
It begins to undo the work of the first half of the film which established a strong connection between the audience and the character of Brennan. While he does not become a dislikeable man, we as an audience are detached from him abruptly as the film changes from a drama to an action thriller.
When the prison break announces itself and the action truly takes over, The Next Three Days, does become highly enjoyable, but for completely different reasons than the touching first half. The break out and subsequent chase scene to make the border in time is heart pounding stuff. There are many hiccups along the way that cast doubt over the attempt. It is exciting stuff, though it does drag itself out for quite some time.
While in essence, The Next Three Days, is an action thriller, it is at its best focusing upon the quiet moments, the emotional depiction of a family torn apart by a sequence of events caused by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Despite the bumpy transition from drama to thriller, the film is still enjoyable, laced with emotional moments of intensity, adrenaline inducing chases and some excellent character moments.
The Next Three Days is a perfect film for that Friday night as you sit there on your sofa with your pot noodle at hand. Just think, at least you aren't in prison.
3/5http://www.suite101.com/content/the-next-three-days-review-a333338