Mark Strong – Consumed By Film

Director: Louis Leterrier

Release Date: February 24th, 2016 (UK); March 11th, 2016 (US)

Genre: Action; Comedy

Starring: Sacha Baron Cohen, Mark Strong

Should you walk into a screening of this latest Sacha Baron Cohen flick not knowing what exactly to expect, you’ll be brought up to speed almost immediately. The first thing we see is a sweaty, mouthy sex scene between Cohen and Rebel Wilson, and here’s the kicker: it takes place atop a mattress in a furniture store. Thankfully Cohen, playing Grimsby goof Nobby Butcher, chooses to purchase said mattress having already christened it. We watch him wheel the thing home using an abandoned shopping trolley; he’s docked out in an England strip and is sporting a 90s britpop hairdo. Meanwhile, Blur’s “Parklife” blares in the background.

It gets much grosser than an in-store romp, though Louis Leterrier’s Grimsby never matches the unfiltered rowdiness of Borat, Cohen’s pinnacle comedic achievement. The film tries — you’ll know it when you see it — but the actor, once a laudable harbinger of satirical bite (and he may be still), is suffocated by a plethora of unoriginal sexual antics. Obvious targets are set up to be shot down: Bill Cosby, blandly, and Donald Trump, more amusingly. Smarter quips are less prevalent, though there is at least one (“Chilcott was dismissed for good reason,” claims an agency insider). It doesn’t want to be that sort of film, which is fine, but the invention isn’t there to justify a simple 90-minute yuck-fest.

An opening Call of Duty action sequence makes use of Leterrier’s background in the genre (The Transporter, The Incredible Hulk): we take the viewpoint of Mark Strong’s Sebastian as he leaps onto vehicles and sends enemies flying with a barrage of roundhouse kicks. The violent obstacle course suitably concludes just as “Directed by Louis Leterrier” hits the screen. Sebastian is an MI6 agent and also Nobby’s brother, though the two haven’t been together since their childhood separation. Inevitably, their reunion sees the latter interrupt the former during a mission, resulting in the shooting of an ill, wheelchair-bound youngster and the escape of Sebastian’s actual target. And so, the brothers find themselves on the run.

In tandem with Cohen’s screenplay — co-written with long-time partner Peter Baynham and Wreck-It Ralph story moulder Phil Johnston — Leterrier attempts to infuse proceedings with that Edgar Wright sense of snap and whizz. It doesn’t work. Partly because the centrepiece jokes are based around sequences that overstay their welcome, thus any built-up momentum succumbs to comedic culling. But the use of flashbacks is also a great hindrance: we see the brothers as annoying kids, loud, sweary and arrogant. Not exactly the sympathetic formula required to make us feel for them when they are split up via fostering.

“Cigarettes & Alcohol” is the soundtrack to the film’s best scene: Nobby, having ditched the football jersey, dons his brother’s spy gear (including a black turtleneck jumper) and saunters forth in slow motion with enough Liam Gallagher swagger to match his Liam Gallagher mod mullet and sideburns combo. It is funny because you can feel a similar sort of pay-off building from the moment Leterrier intercuts Northern English football culture with britpop tunes and britpop attire. And it works because you believe in Cohen’s false big-headedness. He is fairly good as Nobby, it’s just that Nobby isn’t a particularly intriguing character.

The return of Barkhad Abdi to the silver screen is a welcome one, even though his role (drug runner) demands very little from a former Academy Award nominee. Booze comedian Johnny Vegas and Royle Family mainstay Ricky Tomlinson have fleeting supporting roles as two of Grimsby’s football-loving troupe: set during the 2016 World Cup, if ever there was something within the narrative to exemplify the film’s lack of reality or relevance, it would be the England national football team’s success. On the female side of things, Isla Fisher plays a helpful MI6 agent stuck behind mobile phones and computer screens while Penélope Cruz, well, has another portfolio credit.

Fans of Cohen might still enjoy this tamer-in-execution offering so long as they enter not expecting the piercing offence prevalent in earlier outings. Grimsby is basically just Johnny English Reborn, the not-so-good one, but with cruder jokes. There is a working class versus establishment thing going on, I think, but both sides are so plainly drawn nothing new or interesting sees the light of day. This is no Kingsman, which struck the correct balance between heightened impact and genre appreciation. Having said all of that, I did learn of Grimsby and Chernobyl’s twin city relationship. Wait, that was a joke?

Images credit: IMP Awards, Collider

Images copyright (©): Columbia Pictures

Director: Danny Boyle

Release Date: April 5th, 2007 (UK); July 20th, 2007 (US limited)

Genre: Adventure; Science-fiction; Thriller

Starring: Cillian Murphy, Rose Bryne, Chris Evans, Michelle Yeoh

Quite appropriately, Sunshine spends a significant amount of time focusing on the eyes of its pawns. Sometimes a pair will fill the entire screen, strained with sentiment either good or bad, though often the latter. On occasion, they will fight menacingly through an iffy transmission from another spacecraft and act as a warning. The Sun allures them with its fiery aesthetic and unwavering appeal. Without hesitation, characters ask, “What do you see?” in moments of impending demise as if nothing else matters in the universe. Look, even, at the poster. Yielding a blazing visual palette and dreamt up by the mind’s eye of screenwriter Alex Garland, the film is a sci-fi celebration, though you won’t see much celebrating. Riddled with mystery and psychological incoherence, Danny Boyle’s Sunshine floats very close to the sublime.

It is 2057 and an ominous solar winter has a stranglehold on Earth. Aboard Icarus II, a team of eight personnel are voyaging to the dying Sun with one aim: to reignite it. Carrying a nuclear payload, the crew only have one chance to hit their target and, given the operation’s purely theoretical prerogative, those odds aren’t as robust as the situation warrants. Upon discovering the location of Icarus I — a prior failed mission — physicist Capa (Cillian Murphy) recommends taking a detour in order to attain another bomb, and another attempt.

Though his portfolio doesn’t suggest much science-fiction enthusiasm, Danny Boyle’s admiration for the genre fireballs from the screen here. There are elements of seminal space cinema splashed all over Sunshine. From the vision of 2001: A Space Odyssey, to the fraught psychology depicted in Solaris, to Event Horizon’s incessantly doomed outlook, Boyle’s take on sci-fi pays homage to a plethora of greats. But it does more than that. This isn’t simply a historical Pick ‘n’ Mix of stars and planets, rather it incorporates the genre’s best components with subtlety and proceeds to tell a new story. We do not witness Capa and company enter a separate desolate spacecraft and subsequently become overwhelmed by thoughts of Event Horizon because Boyle does not allow it. The Brit always has control and his film always has us transfixed, not by inter-genre nods, but by an ever-enveloping tension and disconcerting mystique — in truth, the film refrains from sparing us any time to consider references until long after the credits have rolled (I’m recounting citations right now).

The director employs traits familiar to him, such as gritty realism and terminal dejection, and combines them with far more expansive notions that pit science against religion. In between philosophical conversations (“A new star born out of a dying one, I think it will be beautiful — no, I’m not scared”) crew members discuss the practicalities of their predicament: oxygen supply levels, or the Sun’s angle. Astronauts aside, we cannot relate to the quandary in which those aboard Icarus II find themselves, but we can ascribe to the pragmatic mindset that they often reverberate. The characters are normal people. Yes, they are each excessively intelligent and well-versed in specialist areas. But despite floating many miles above in space, they remain grounded — we have to take each individual at face value as none of their past lives are explained. You can forget surnames too: Cassie, Harvey and Mace will do just fine. These are ordinary people in an extraordinary circumstance, decision-making dictated by scenario and each individual just as vulnerable as any of us would be.

The characters’ incomplete personal logs contribute to another of the film’s successful narrative strands: a growing sense of tension. This is not a horror film yet it bears a variety of horrifying aspects, one of which is personnel ambiguity. Since we only know that which is in front of our eyes and nothing more, it is plausible to us that any member of the team could snap at any given moment. Boyle explores isolation and the subsequent psychological trauma faced by those disconnected from civilisation, a concept captured magnanimously by one character’s reaction to the decimation of a homely, naturalistic oxygen garden. As Icarus II advances closer to its destination (“Entering the dead zone”) a haunting strain is emitted, one that is eerie and difficult to pinpoint. Searle, the vessel’s doctor, becomes increasingly transfixed by the Sun which appears to be hauling the spacecraft ever-nearer to imminent death.

A slight tonal shift occurs in tandem alongside the crew’s interactions with the ill-fated Icarus I. From a tantalising slow-burner, proceedings deviate towards disorientating terror. The final act is probably the film’s weakest, but it is by no means a weak offering. If anything, the conclusion ushers in greater mythological tendencies spearheaded by religious impetus (in Greek mythology, Icarus flew too close to the Sun). Perhaps it is only fitting that a narrative adjacent to the heavens should juggle Godly morals. Nevertheless Boyle, a man with religious associations himself, ensures that Sunshine does not become overburdened by spirituality and instead strikes a wholesome balance between the film’s various thematic veins.

A scorching visual gloss is as all-encompassing as it is magnificent. The dark and inherently inanimate interior of Icarus II seems to not only seep from the crew’s mellow demeanour, but also abets an air of warped uncertainty. Battling to infect the spacecraft’s overcast insides is the Sun; rays burning with unlimited effervescence, so much so that you will be rolling up those sleeves in a desperate plea for cool air. Accompanying the wonderful cinematography is John Murphy’s tender-yet-lofty score that shines brightest towards the Sunshine’s concluding chapter.

Cillian Murphy leads the way as Capa, whose contemplative nature suggests that only he is truly aware of the task’s magnitude. The skill here is in generating a sense of normality and the best plaudit that can be awarded to Murphy — a generally charming presence — is that he emphatically portrays a professional physicist. Capa may partake in a few scuffles with Chris Evans’ Mace, but other than that he is plainly a physicist driven by nuclear properties and measurements. The aforementioned Chris Evans does well in a slightly different role as the morally strict engineer whose sole focus is the success of the mission. The other noteworthy performance comes from Rose Byrne as vessel pilot Cassie. Bryne develops a solid equilibrium between strong-willed and sensitive, and also strikes up a believable dynamic with Murphy, one that would undoubtedly be romantic in another environment.

Capa’s opening monologue outlines one purpose: “To create a star within a star.” Boasting admirable scope, a tense and engaging atmosphere, and a variety of well-oiled thematic roots relevant to the genre, Sunshine is undoubtedly a star turn from Danny Boyle.

Images credit: IMP Awards, Rotten Tomatoes

Tag: Mark Strong

Grimsby (2016)

Sunshine (2007)