Movie – Page 10 – Consumed By Film

As Above, So Below (2014)

★★★

Director: John Erick Dowdle

Release Date: August 29th, 2014 (UK & US)

Genre: Adventure; Horror; Mystery

Starring: Perdita Weeks, Ben Feldman

“They’d have to catch me first,” Scarlett (Perdita Weeks) says near the beginning of this faux-documentary horror outing. She’s talking about the consequences of illegally sneaking into places, or the Catacombs beneath Paris to be more precise. Scarlett is a student studying archaeological formations and symbolic patterns and, having found something called the Rose Key during a dangerous expedition in Iran, she’s now desperate to get her hands on Nicolas Flamel’s philosopher’s stone (apparently nobody at Hogwarts answers the phone).

She bands together a ragtag bunch of urban explorers including cameraman Benji (Edwin Hodge) and her reluctant, might-be-mightn’t-be boyfriend George (Ben Feldman) who is still a bit miffed at Scarlett for abandoning him to go relic hunting a while back. Before we get to the scary underground part, there’s a lot of translation gibberish that goes on. Putting her education to good use, our lead scampers around Paris examining odd objects and deciphering hieroglyphic-esque language.

It’s an unnecessary history lesson that doesn’t really add anything to the remainder of the movie, nor is it all that interesting. Scarlett, Benji and George dart across museums (maybe it was just one) as the film strives to pick up some early momentum, but it’s a bit wearisome. The dialogue at this point is uninspired too — at one point Scarlett rhetorically asks if she looks like a tourist, trying to emphasise that her self-perceived non-touristy appearance suggests she isn’t up to anything. But she does look like a tourist, and she quite plainly is up to something.

This fairly ponderous opening act has much in common with the first half of Bigfoot horror Willow Creek, and much like Bobcat Goldthwait’s film, As Above, So Below kicks into gear when its misguided pawns reach their congested destination. You will die if you run out of light or water in the Catacombs, or if you get hurt, we are informed by the group’s more advanced Catacomb explorers. Heading down into the blackness sounds like a great idea then.

Thankfully, this is a horror movie and the characters are all dumb enough to genuinely think descending into dark cavernous ruins is a great idea. All except yep-they’re-definitely-getting-back-together-again George, whose previous claustrophobic endeavours have rendered him resentful of cramped spaces. He spends a lot of time ruling out his involvement, but ends up following the group all the way to the entrance anyway and then, through a bit of hullabaloo, finds himself in another cramped space.

The confined setting almost immediately generates a very primitive longing for air among the characters, and we even occasionally get caught up in its uneasy potential. “People who go in this tunnel don’t come out,” says the troupe’s experienced leader of sorts, and of course they’re subsequently forced into said tunnel via some wall-shifting tomfoolery. You do get the sense that director John Erick Dowdle, who has experience in both found footage and claustrophobic horror with Quarantine and Devil, could have spent more time attempting to wear us out.

The Descent is an obvious inspiration — there’s a clear homage moment towards the end involving a river of blood — and that film succeeds because it works exceedingly hard to get under the viewer’s skin. The Descent’s scare-factor isn’t necessarily born out of the arrival of its cave-dwelling beasts. It is scary because, no matter how vociferously you scream at the television, the people on screen are clearly going deeper into the abyss with no foreseeable way out.

This film spends a bit of time conveying that trapped-ness effectively; the found footage aspect is a positive influence, enforcing a natural tightness that in most other cases would frustrate viewers. Although it tries hard to steer clear of jump scares — Dowdle and his co-writing brother Drew should be commended for avoiding that lazy route — it doesn’t hammer home the characters’ overarching struggle as well as The Descent. This might be to do with the frequent interludes of ancient word scrabble that are tonally hokey and encourage respite.

For those who have seen The Borderlands, the same ‘corridor of uncertainty’ conclusion to that movie can be found spliced throughout As Above, So Below. Peculiarity is in the air, and Scarlett et al are often as unaware as we are regarding the strange events. Though the philosopher’s stone stuff is generally silly, when Dowdle strikes the correct balance between mysticism and realism the film takes a turn for the creepy. Objects that appear at random are unsettling not just because they’re in a place they shouldn’t be, but also because they’re in some way connected to the group. An errant piano has the same broken key as one of the party’s childhood instruments, a revelation wrought in subtle terror.

The characters are secondary to the spooky goings-on which is an unfortunate genre norm. Perdita Weeks and Ben Feldman are fine if unspectacular as the ostensible leads, both amiable enough. Though, at times it does feel like the duo and their mates have watched too many generic horrors — events that should shock them don’t for some reason. Someone dies and Scarlett declares, “I can’t bring back the dead, sorry,” with the same nonchalant detachment a waiter would convey when apologising for the lack of tomato ketchup at his restaurant.

People inevitably begin dropping like flies, which is fine. It is a horror movie after all and death is written in the Horror Movie Constitution. In a somewhat surreal turn of events, the ending manages to be both aggravating and refreshing. As Above, So Below starts off on shaky ground, stuck in a preparatory rut for longer that it ought to be. When the shaky ground finally is behind (or above) us, there’s a lot to like.

Images credit: IMP Awards, Collider

Images copyright (©): Universal Pictures

Terminator Genisys (2015)

★★

Director: Alan Taylor

Release Date: July 1st, 2015 (US); July 2nd, 2015 (UK)

Genre: Action; Adventure; Science fiction

Starring: Emilia Clarke, Jai Courtney, Arnold Schwarzenegger

Every once in a while, Terminator Genisys springs a countdown clock on us. Bad things will happen, we’re told, when it hits zero. If you are in any way familiar with how films work, you will know that countdowns often hit zero at the end of movies, and that is true again here. Suddenly those bad things look more appealing. For an hour and a half, Thor: The Dark World director Alan Taylor’s reboot is robotic in all the wrong ways. It’s frustrating, because the final act somewhat harkens back to the great action of past instalments. But by then it’s too late — time’s up.

In getting under way, we retread a backstory recognisable to viewers who have visited the franchise before. It goes on for ages, but Kyle Reese’s (Jai Courtney) words are at least visually supplemented by some advanced Star Wars-meets-Transformers combat. We’re then introduced to future John Connor (or current, semantics pending), played fairly well by Jason Clarke. Trying his best to conclude the exposition heavy prelude, Connor makes a big deal out of why it should be Reese he sends back in time to stop an evil Terminator, as opposed to any other schmuck. But his interrogation follows a scene in which the pair cement their infallible trust and comradeship. Why wouldn’t it be Reese?

This unnecessary friction exemplifies what soon becomes a full on screenplay pandemic — the creation of narrative falsehoods and conveniences lazily employed in order to move the plot forward (or sideways, or backwards, depending on which time zone or dreamscape we’re lost in). And it’s not just us who are confused. The characters do their fair share of head-scratching too: “That’s the kind of guy your son was… is… will be. Jesus!” bellows Reese as he attempts to tell Sarah Connor (Emilia Clarke) about her son who both has, and has not, been born yet.

The story is all over the place but it essentially boils down to Sarah, Reese and classic Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger) trying to save the world. Co-writers Laeta Kalogridis and Patrick Lussier seem hell-bent on expunging the franchise’s mythology entirely, though their efforts ultimately produce a convoluted product. The former had better luck penning the evasive Shutter Island, but the layers of plot are excessive here and the film misses seemingly obvious details as a result. For example, there are four different Skynet bots at large: two Arnies — one good, one bad — a T-1000 policeman whose existence in 1984 is never fully explained (though his sword-like arm is at least a nifty nod to Terminator 2: Judgment Day) and John Connor, sort of. Maybe.

Caught up in the myriad of goings-on are infrequent thematic throwbacks to classic Terminator lore; the increasingly intrusive threat posed by machines, humanity’s greed for untested technological advancement. However not enough time is afforded to any of this meaty material. It is possible that scenes containing Dayo Okeniyi’s Genisys-creating Danny Dyson, son of Judgment Day’s Miles Dyson who also appears, were cut. As things stand his lack of on screen engagement is quite embarrassing. We never really find out about the character’s mindset, or his motives for developing the technology. Apparently the answer to everything is ‘sequel’.

Resultantly, the Genisys program presents itself as nothing more than an iffy iCloud. “This is the world now. Plugged in. Logged on.” That’s as incisive as it gets. The dumbing down of this once prescient franchise is something we probably should have expected given Paramount’s willingness to trade middle act surprises for better marketing traction. If you’ve seen the trailer — and we all have, it has been everywhere — the John Connor revelation is no longer a shocker. Connor is involved in a shocking moment though: his declaration that it probably won’t matter if Sarah Connor dies essentially undermines the entire franchise. If Jurassic World was overly respectful towards its elders, Terminator Genisys couldn’t really give a toss.

Taylor’s direction puts more emphasis on comedy than before. The move is misjudged, but not without merit. You get the sense the film is trying to be too Marvel-esque, too witty, when both The Terminator and Judgment Day both succeeded by being rooted in apocalyptic reality. Snappy lines detract from weighty stakes. It can be quite funny — Clarke and Schwarzenegger have amusing chemistry — but the missed gags do occasionally stick out like a mechanical limb. These characters, unlike the Avengers, haven’t yet earned the right to be funny in a life or death situation.

Unfortunately, the characters simply don’t get by via their iconography. Arnie does because it’s the same actor playing the same role, and he’s actually good fun. The others wear iconic names but they carry unrecognisable attributes. We’re told this is a different Sarah Connor and it’s true. Just not a better one. She is too outgoing, too friendly, too accessible. Though Emilia Clarke makes a decent stab at invoking the steely-eyed persistence of Linda Hamilton, the character is generic. Very little of everything and nothing in particular.

At one point Reese informs Sarah, “Me unlocking your cuffs doesn’t make you less capable,” but neither of them are all that capable to begin with. Both Clarke and Jai Courtney are given virtually impossible tasks. Courtney in particular struggles to overcome the shoddiness of his bland action man. It would be nice to see him in something other than one of these wafer-thin gun-toting roles (Suicide Squad is a dice throw at present). Academy Award winner J.K. Simmons is good as the alcoholic, downtrodden detective, rising above another of the movie’s stock personas.

Despite this plethora of misgivings, Terminator Genisys does conjure up an entertaining final thirty minutes. The action never quite reaches the pulpy, adrenaline-fuelled antics of James Cameron’s outings, but there are welcome pockets of grit. Calling upon Speed — a single-decker bus, female driver, large bridge, inability to slow down — the film switches up the intensity with visual flair. By the final scenes, we are reluctantly along for the ride and the humour subsequently works, acting as a refreshing blast of energy between the hard and heavy battles. A Bad Boys mugshot sequence is inspired.

People applauded as the credits rolled in my screening, so somebody must have done something right. Maybe this is a super-smart critique of sluggish blockbuster reboots. T-3000 John Connor talks about the Sarah he remembers, and maybe he is referring to the Sarah of Judgment Day. Maybe this film is set in an alternate reality where all the characters are diluted on purpose, and the plot points are nonsensical by design. Probably not. Terminator Genisys is as messy as its calamitous title suggests.

Images credit: IMP Awards, Collider

Images copyright (©): Paramount Pictures

Blogiversary Bash 2015: Consumed by Film

Hey folks!

It’s Cara’s 2nd Blogiversary Bash and I opted to get her a 10 best sequels list as a present. Looks like she has decided to share it with everyone — dig in! I’ve heard it is better that cake.

Silver Screen Serenade

If it wasn’t already a party, it totally is now. Because Batman and Robin. DANCING.

TGIF, party people! Ready to continue with some Blogiversary Bash goodness? Oh, I know you are. 🙂 I’ve got another superb guest for you today: the soon-to-be uni grad, Adam of Consumed by Film! That’s right, Adam is graduating, so be sure to pop on over to his excellent movie review site and say congrats!

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Top 8 Films of 2015 (January-June)

In life it’s always worth taking a moment to stop and think. Before crossing the road, for example. During an exam. Just as you’re about to send out those inflammatory tweets. And especially when the cinematic year reaches its midpoint. At half-time, sports teams indulge in a studious team talk. This is our half-time team talk. A period of transitory reflection. Or, plainly, a great excuse to muster up a celebratory list singling out the best films released between January and June. Besides, if Mark Kermode does it, it’s worth doing.

I’ve decided not to include films released last year in the US. As such, the rankings won’t incorporate any of the 2015 Oscar crop – Birdman and Foxcatcher would definitely have made the cut otherwise. Though released this year in the UK, those are technically 2014 films. And so, from the great to the greater, let’s get going.

8. Inherent Vice

It is very likely that your face will resemble Joaquin Phoenix’s poster expression by the end of Inherent Vice, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. The film has a woozy magnetism that occasionally threatens to blind, but Phoenix’s aloof performance as an oddball 1970s detective keeps us attentive throughout (though probably not wholly aware). Paul Thomas Anderson is a really interesting director and this is another really interesting, if frequently bonkers, journey. Recurrent collaborator Robert Elswit provides hazy mood-setting cinematography. Josh Brolin also shows up bearing the flattest haircut in the history of cinema.

7. Kingsman: The Secret Service

An amalgamation of Kick Ass’ thumping comic violence and Bond’s narrative flow, Kingsman: The Secret Service is an at times dazzling action-comedy. You do occasionally get the sense writer/director Matthew Vaughn’s errant imagination is overruling his common sense, but it is this exuberant mentality that funds the film’s enjoyability. Colin Firth ditches the stuttering king’s speech for something more poised and abrasive, while his fresh on the scene co-star Taron Egerton delivers a breakout performance. Firth also engages in a Quicksilver-esque slow motion church battle that has to be seen to be believed.

6. Jurassic World

As it continues to chomp its way through the global box office, Jurassic World is fast becoming one of the biggest films of all time in economic terms. Colin Trevorrow’s dinosaur delight is also a nostalgic powerhouse, respectful in its acknowledgement of Steven Spielberg’s breathtaking original but also geared towards a new generation of young, expectant cinemagoers. Underfed screenplay and character problems aside (no outright disasters), this is genuinely enjoyable cinema with a few spine-tingling moments to really savour. Listen out for the reverberations of John Williams’ glorious score, and keep an eye on that flare.

5. It Follows

David Robert Mitchell’s second feature gained a lot of positive traction through word of mouth and subsequently found its way into cinemas nationwide across the UK and US. It Follows opens atop a barrage of tension, most of which the film never loses. There’s a vintage sheen at the fore, broadcast exquisitely via Mike Gioulakis’ rich cinematography, though we never actually find out when the movie is set (adding to the bizarre and unsettling goings-on). Maika Munroe is brilliant as the anti-scream queen in a patiently eerie horror outing that has more in common with John Hughes than it does Rob Zombie.

4. Ex Machina

Another wonderfully paced piece, Ex Machina manages to be both pristinely clinical and oddly ambiguous. Alex Garland, whose screenwriting backlog includes the stunning Sunshine, makes his directorial debut: a sci-fi mind-jolter set almost entirely within the shiny walls of a remote retreat. The director uses the element of mystery to great effect – character motives are never wholly clear. Oscar Isaac is pally yet deceitful, feeding Domhnall Gleeson’s inquisitive suspicions. Alicia Vikander also superbly captures the uncanny valley-like quality of a humanoid robot.

3. Avengers: Age of Ultron

Much like Jurassic World the second Avengers get-together suffers in the screenplay department. However, here it’s a case of over-complication as opposed to a lack of perceived originality. Age of Ultron isn’t difficult to follow, there’s simply a bit too much going on. And you can understand why: these characters are tremendous fun to be around, full of inevitable persiflage, and by now the actors have clicked as a collective unit. As Hawkeye, Jeremy Renner finally gets something meaningful to do and he does it with emotional gravitas. Joss Whedon’s final Marvel bow is one of the studios’ best so far.

2. Girlhood

Girlhood, a French independent drama that hones in on one girl’s social and cultural maturity, is quite the opposite. The film is compelling to no end, aided in abundance by lead actor Karidja Touré’s standoffish performance. The first time performer really is a joy to watch and a miraculous casting find. Crystel Fournier’s stylish cinematography contrasts thematically with an otherwise gritty, urban environment, highlighting the difference between dreams and reality. The film also hosts the year’s best scene so far: a stunningly shot group dance to Rihanna’s “Diamonds” that you’ll watch in a state of emotional fluctuation.

1. Mad Max: Fury Road

Comparing the merits of a low-key European drama and a barnstorming Aussie dystopian epic is a pretty thankless task, but Mad Max: Fury Road just about edges top spot. After a thirty year break, George Miller delivers his best franchise instalment yet. Charlize Theron and Tom Hardy share the same type of niggling chemistry you’d expect to see in the middle of a high-intensity, life or death vehicular war. As Imperator Furiosa Theron is bullish and powerful, but the fact that she has a heart is why we care so much. Miller’s penchant for practical effects works a treat, helping to signify a seminal moment in action cinema.

Images credit: IMP Awards

The Lucky Ones (2008)

★★★

Director: Neil Burger

Release Date: September 26th, 2008 (US)

Genre: Comedy; Drama; War

Starring: Rachel McAdams, Tim Robbins, Michael Peña

In the upcoming season of True Detective, Rachel McAdams will play a prickly, stoical police sheriff (or if you’re reading this after August she already has, and rather brilliantly too, right?!). That sounds like quite the departure from her character in The Lucky Ones — a soldier, tough without doubt, but whose veins pulse with good-natured naivety. Her volcanic charm is the type that could turn a long road trip into a really, really long road trip. Not here though. Not on McAdams’ watch.

She is Private first class Colee Dunn, joined on a cross country excursion by Sergeant first class Fred Cheaver (Tim Robbins) and Staff sergeant T.K. Poole (Michael Peña). The trio meet at JFK airport having just finished their respective tours of duty, and opt to collectively hire a car since flights home are in short supply. What follows is a familiar voyage down the road movie genre, with periodic stops at comedic junctions and soul searching stations.

What this is not, is a war movie. The film has been criticised for not sufficiently addressing the complex issues of battle — but it simply isn’t a war movie. Certainly, the three main characters with whom we spent time are soldiers on leave, but that doesn’t mean the film has to ruminate about the war they’re presently separated from. Colee and company discuss it, sure. They feel the weight of its heavy baggage at times. But hey, maybe they’re just people. Two normal guys and one normal girl, each trying to reacclimatise to the real world. Struggling, often comically, sometimes painfully.

T.K. is the brash macho-type who subdues authenticity. We first see him inside a tank spouting tasteless jibes about women, before debris from an explosion renders him impotent. His lack of functionality becomes a recurring joke that eventually finds resolution in the film’s worst scene — a poorly executed tornado forces Colee and T.K. into a claustrophobic drain pipe, and it’s really cringe-worthy. Peña undercuts most of the unlikeable traits often attributed to those “macho-types” by delivering a fairly nuanced performance. At one point his character awakens suddenly in the middle of the night, clearly still troubled by the blast, and can only mutter a, “You know… sorry,” when questioned by Colee.

She is the most engaging of the three. McAdams has real presence, lighting up the screen every time she appears. Colee is the buffer between humour and emotion, her wide-eyed lack of cynicism both refreshingly authentic and solemnly disheartening. “That girl’s living in a dream world,” T.K. asserts, and it’s true. She lugs around the guitar of her close friend Randy who died on duty, aiming to return the instrument to his family in Las Vegas. Though Colee has never met them, she is driven by the hope that they’ll let her stay. She exudes so much positivity that we start to buy into her crazy plan. It’s the potential prize at the end of the rainbow, a treasure that differs from the materialistic hoards prevalent in other road trip movies such as O Brother, Where Art Thou? and Rat Race.

Quite the opposite is Tim Robbins’ Fred, or Cheaver, since he is the elder statesman of the group. A modest guy looking to get away from active combat, Cheaver rolls into family despair near the beginning of the journey. He is definitely the unluckiest — though the other two aren’t exactly wearing rabbit’s feet — and Robbins succinctly captures this turmoil. There are similarities to be drawn with Sam Jaeger’s Take Me Home as far as character relationships go, where petty squabbles inevitably evolve into admiration and understanding.

That film’s aimless quality is also apparent — the men constantly say they “don’t have time” to indulge Colee’s sight-seeing desires, but they’re not actually going anywhere. In a way they have all the time in the world, but the guys are too obsessed with achieving an end goal that probably doesn’t actually exist. Though their plot construction could be questioned, director Neil Burger (Limitless, Divergent) and co-writer Dirk Wittenborn’s character creation is effective. Just like in the army, the trio grow to rely upon each other — monetarily, emotionally, and intellectually — a conclusion arrived at with sincerity.

To the film’s credit it doesn’t spend two hours achingly debating the woes war. However, it opts not to ignore the pitfalls either. America becomes part of a clinical world that the army-goers aren’t used to (“You’re at a disadvantage if you don’t master your computer skills”). Bystanders and acquaintances constantly thank them for their efforts abroad, but it’s all platitudinal. Yet it doesn’t feel like The Lucky Ones is trying to emulate the rich verve of something like a Sideways. When the movie threatens too much seriousness it quickly scrambles back under its light-hearted comfort blanket, embodied in a scene where life reflections are interrupted by a penis balloon joke.

Nibbles of narrative stupidity are glibly accepted as a given by the screenwriters. A customer service employee grants the group a car due to their army credentials, even though the only vehicle remaining belongs to the employee’s airport boss. Problems that arise often bear very simple solutions, these problems too easily erected in the first place (Cheaver’s son gets accepted into Stanford University but needs to cough up $20,000 in tuition fees). The film chooses to manoeuvre its way around simple answers through comedy: Randy’s guitar would solve Cheaver’s monetary problems, but Colee amusingly decides to cry rather than oblige.

Though the actual trip part of The Lucky Ones does run into a few roadblocks — it’s not as funny as it should be, nor as emotionally-involving — the characters behind the wheel are wholly accommodating. Besides, who doesn’t want to watch a movie where Rachel McAdams plays an impulsive Southerner with more charm in one glance than a machine gun has bullets?

Images credit: IMP Awards, Coll ider

Images copyright (©): Lionsgate, Roadside Attractions

Jurassic World (2015)

★★★★

Director: Colin Trevorrow

Release Date: June 11th, 2015 (UK); June 12th, 2015 (US)

Genre: Action; Adventure; Science fiction

Starring: Chris Pratt, Bryce Dallas Howard, Nick Robinson, Ty Simpkins

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. In the context of filmmaking, it’s very easy to construe that as nothing more than an excuse for lazy writing or a general lack of ideas. Mainstream horror comes to mind, movies that retread the same ground so often that the concrete slabs below are eroding into nothingness. Jurassic World similarly stomps over familiar tracks, the same ones paved back in 1993 by Steven Spielberg.

Yet there’s an authentic admiration afoot in Colin Trevorrow’s work. Moments so sincere that any semblance of cynicism will be expunged from your psyche. A lot of goodwill has clearly been poured into the making of this fourth dino instalment, a film that undoubtedly strives to capture the fantastical magic of the first. It probably gets there in the end. We see imitation in spades and it’s flat out splendid.

Some time after the tumultuous events of Jurassic Park, Isla Nublar has been transformed into the tourist-attracting dinosaur paradise originally envisioned by John Hammond. Operations manager Claire (Bryce Dallas Howard) invites her two nephews — gloomy Zach (Nick Robinson) and wide-eyed Gray (Ty Simpkins) — over to experience the park first-hand. When something inexplicably goes wrong, Claire and Velociraptor coach Owen (Chris Pratt) find themselves in a race to restore civility.

These characters are initially drawn rather whimsically. Chris Pratt’s Owen is the morally upright park hand who spends his time tucked away in a cabin fixing up motorcycles when he’s not training Velociraptors. Claire is work-obsessed, her penchant for sustainable order and satisfaction statistics often overruling any time spent with her nephews (both of whom also assume recognisable age-related traits). It’s all part of the writers’ plan though; imminent danger brings heroism and savviness to the fore, particularly in Claire whose transformation is punctuated in a scene where she literally rolls up her sleeves.

In fairness, there are early hints at this increasing character roundedness. Conversations about the new breed of dinosaur — Indominus Rex, a corporate attempt to freshen up the park — leave Claire flustered, suggesting she is somewhat torn by the possible consequences. “Indominus wasn’t bred, she was designed,” we hear ominously. Owen, despite treating his raptors with care and respect, is still holding them captive. The influence of corporations, poor animal welfare, and immoral science are all interesting themes that would have benefited from more breathing time in a film not contractually obliged to serve up grand bouts of action.

Occasionally, Trevorrow and his team of co-writers do return to the aforementioned themes — an exhilarating scene where Owen rides his bike among the raptors seems to suggest humans and dinosaurs are one in the same. But the moment of the movie, and a shoe-in for one of the moments of the entire year, belongs to Claire. It comes towards the conclusion, spine-tingling in delivery, and cements her place atop the annual cinematic table of quick-thinking badassery.

While Bryce Dallas Howard moulds into the cool aunt we always knew she could be — shooting errant dinosaurs and using her wily driving skills to protect her nephews — Chris Pratt remains impossibly cool throughout. He’s Indiana Jones, a surly customer not afraid to echo some juvenile Han Solo-esque one-liners. When he gets serious, he means it. The two actors appear effortless in their roles, and share an engaging, charmingly awkward chemistry.

An underfed yet sweet relationship plays out between brothers Zach and Gray too. Not helped by an unnecessary divorce plot strand, Nick Robinson and Ty Simpkins are fun to watch as the generic sibling duo who eventually, predictably, come to appreciate each other. Robinson, who excelled in The Kings of Summer, has natural charisma and could be a breakout role away from superstardom. Comparably younger, Simpkins defies the annoying kid curse and puts on an amiable show here.

Other members of a pleasingly diverse cast include Omar Sy, Jake Johnson, Lauren Lapkus, Vincent D’Onofrio, Irrfan Khan, and previous Jurassic survivor, BD Wong. Jimmy Fallon makes a hilarious cameo, striking a funny bone from which point the film gets gradually more amusing. Trevorrow manages to carefully balance light-hearted humour (which the franchise well known for) and rampaging action (which the franchise is also well known for). We see this during a dino football scene: the situation is terrifying in theory, but the visual of a marauding dinosaur thumping a giant glass ball around is humorous.

Action spots are aplenty, though never burdensome. Executed with boisterous energy, you willingly give into the air of childlike joy and genuine threat. One sequence sees the dinosaurs meet The Birds and we subsequently feel that film’s sense of impending, uncontrollable danger. A claustrophobic night vision routine looks like it has been lifted directly from the Zero Dark Thirty Abbottabad raid. These instigators of flickering emotion merge with John Schwartzman’s realistic-looking cinematography, and as such we constantly feel embedded in the story. This is, without doubt, a CGI masterstroke.

The same can’t be said for compelling dialogue, of which is there is very little. There are plenty of exposition-driven sound bites in first hour though, lines wrapped in a heightened dramatic effect, snippets that have an unfortunate made-for-trailer dynamic. The screenplay is ham-fisted, especially during the film’s opening third where the desire to induce peril overrides any airy character discussion. But the people and the sounds and the overall atmosphere collectively create a welcome distraction.

At its simplest — and it is often simple — Jurassic World is a nostalgic love letter to cinema. It is a wonderfully reminiscent piece bearing great admiration for Spielberg’s original, and is able to duplicate Jurassic Park’s most memorable moments without plunging into mawkish territory. We hear John Williams’ famous track early on, during a perfectly handled island tour sequence celebrating the magnificent park facilities (Tomorrowland… pfft), before it hits a crescendo coated in cinematic glee.

Those sort of goosebump-inducing moments are the foundation of the cinematic experience. Jurassic World is not the complete package by any means, but as far as celebratory storytelling goes, it has serious bite.

Images credit: IMP Awards, Collider

Images copyright (©): Universal Pictures

Oculus (2014)

★★★

Director: Mike Flanagan

Release Date: June 14th, 2014

Genre: Horror

Starring: Karen Gillan, Brenton Thwaties

Perhaps the most commendable thing about Mike Flanagan’s Oculus is that, for the most part, it refrains from divulging the usual genre conventions. In an era where horror isn’t just for Halloween and franchises reign handily over standalone outings, a scary movie that deviates from the Final Destination school of fright is a welcome sight. It’s a shame that the film’s increasingly choppy narrative slips from the grasp of its director and his co-writer Jeff Howard, but there is a lot to admire here.

We jump between two timelines throughout: in the present day Kaylie (Karen Gillan) and her younger brother Tim (Breton Thwaites) return to their childhood home in order to confront and “kill” a spirit emanating from an antiquated mirror. Kaylie believes the mirror is haunted, that it infiltrated their parents’ minds and subsequently caused their deaths — events retold in the other timeline.

Tim isn’t as convinced. At the beginning of the film he is in the process of being discharged from a psychiatric hospital having come to the conclusion that the aforementioned tragedy was non-supernatural. An underlying darkness is already in full flow when we meet the characters; Tim would rather avoid speaking about the past whereas Kaylie is noticeably desperate to face her demons head on. “I know you’ll never understand that part of my life,” she tells her fiancé (who is otherwise surplus to requirements) and you get the sense she has been plotting glass-shattering comeuppance for years.

Actually, it’s more than a sense. In a scintillating ten minute scene, Kaylie meticulously describes and explains the bleak history of the mirror, the just-as-bleak history of her family and how she plans to prove that the artefact is engaged in dark arts. Its function could be construed as lazy storytelling — getting one character to spout exposition rather than conjuring up something more inventive — and it does raise a few outdated genre tropes (smashing mirrors is bad luck, apparently). However, Gillan’s superb form elevates the scene high above its promise. She is determined, her emotion buried beneath a precise exterior. The Scot is arguably the best thing on screen, despite her deep homegrown accent occasionally escaping off the ends of sentences.

Kaylie’s tenacious exterior isn’t instantly appealing, nor is it off-putting, but her doggedness is compelling. She seems pleased when the mirror exhibits an array of unusual reflections, including a sheet-covered mannequin that doesn’t actually exist, and treats the object like a living creature. The film’s immediate mystique owes much to The Newton Brothers’ slightly bulging score too. As the tension mounts it resembles the echo of a pulsating heartbeat. Michael Fimognari’s cinematography is steady and likes to linger, particularly during the first half of Oculus.

Alternating between two different timelines is a premise that bears significant intrigue. The television show Lost expertly utilised the flashback technique, and films such as The Usual Suspects and — to a lesser degree — Sinister have successfully dabbled in the method too. For a while it is effective here, bolstering the taut atmosphere as events in the past add more emotional verve to events in the present.

The estate, where most of the film takes place, is put to proficient use as memories fade back into reality with technical dexterity. It is like something out of a modern Guillermo del Toro flick: grand with wooden floorboards that undoubtedly croak at night, and full of mystery and immaculate character. Yet, in a neat contrast, the unsavoury mirror looks out of place, like something more suited to del Toro’s classically-set brand of filmmaking.

We’re left to wonder if there is actually anything going on beyond the horror — does Oculus present a slant on the effects of ill mental health, or the tribulations of a dysfunctional family? Kaylie shouts with joy when she realises she isn’t making it all up, that it’s all spookily true. Tim has been psychologically ‘healed’ so to speak, though we know from the get-go that he has always been sane (this is a horror film after all). The mirror encourages a rift between Kaylie and Tim’s parents by manifesting as an intrusive female stranger. If anything, the piece touches upon these subjects without really investigating them.

Unfortunately, the constant jumping between timelines becomes increasingly frequent, meaning proceedings in both the past and present invariably lose momentum. Sticking primarily in the contemporary space would have been more interesting because the characters’ past is more obvious. Flanagan’s swift editing is technically well executed, but annoyingly misguided. The point is to smartly fill in biographical gaps and for Kaylie and Tim to encounter a growing sense of alienation. We are supposed to feel unsettled, not confused.

The past is awash with a Kubrick-lite aura, as if the writers co-wrote the screenplay with The Shining on in the background. As dad Alan, Rory Cochrane adopts Jack Nicholson’s wavering sanity, while Katee Sackhoff’s Marie takes up Shelley Duvall’s fearful paranoia. A historical bathtub death even finds its way on board, hinting at that disgusting scene with the old woman in Kubrick’s film. Both Cochrane and Sackhoff are creepy enough in their respective roles.

In the end, Oculus doesn’t quite amount to the sum of its parts. But it does break tradition — the protagonists run straight towards evil as opposed to it chasing them — and Karen Gillan is a consistently excellent screen presence. For about an hour this is really enticing, imaginative stuff. A sequel doesn’t sound so scary after all.

Images credit: IMP Awards, Collider

Girlhood (2015)

★★★★★

Director: Céline Sciamma

Release Date: October 22nd, 2014 (France); May 8th, 2015 (UK)

Genre: Drama

Starring: Karidja Touré, Assa Sylla, Lindsay Karamoh, Mariétou Touré

Any filmmakers looking to edge themselves into the complimentary critical limelight next year might want to consider serving up a compelling human drama tinged with humour and realism, named something-hood. The approach worked for Richard Linklater and it has worked again here, this time for Céline Sciamma whose film about a young woman’s life after education is arguably the best of 2015 thus far.

The titular girl is Marieme, or Vic, played with exquisite poise by Karidja Touré. Caring for her two younger sisters while her mother works evenings has hampered Marieme’s success in school, and she’s unable to repeat classes for a third year running. As such she strives to take control of her present, believing her future is too far beyond reach. A group of girls, probably slightly older, invite Marieme to join their gang and the conflicted teen accepts.

This is very simple cinema. From a technical standpoint there are no obvious tricks, no special effects, because there is no need. Girlhood is injected instead with dramatic heft and humanistic depth. It is better than the director’s first voyage into the challenges of female maturity, Water Lilies, which does relay some raw authenticity but is ultimately a touch one dimensional. Here, we journey through the many different and very real experiences of burgeoning adulthood.

For one, Girlhood is braver than Sciamma’s debut film, an attribute highlighted by Marieme’s decision to join a gang from the get-go. Instantly she finds herself surrounded by three girls — Lady, Adiatou and Fily — who aren’t the most affable people. We’re certainly not drawn to them; when the invitation to join is presented to Marieme, you get the urge to reach through the screen and point her in another direction. The group don’t necessarily go looking for trouble, but when it lands on their doorstep clearer heads often fail to prevail.

Yet through deft writing and affecting acting, we feel ourselves rooting for Lady et al. The girls combat racial profiling with intimidation, and then erupt in a fit of giggles. They are relatable and genuine. Sciamma, who also penned the screenplay, makes it known that these characters have a great deal of learning to do. And they do learn. We see it through the eyes of Marieme, mostly, who often has to bear the brunt of her abusive older brother. But the piece doesn’t dwell on negativities — laughter and joy are frequently employed, mostly when the four females are in each other’s company.

“You have to do what you want,” says Lady. Her suggestion is misguided — she’s talking in extremes, i.e. petty theft — but entirely true. Vexed by poor grades, Marieme struggles with the anxiety of unfulfilled potential. Touré captures this internal ache with such subtlety for much of the drama, before exploding in a fit of justifiable rage over a system that has clearly failed her: “Where’s the dream? You wanna tell me where your dreams are?” she bellows at her three friends in the second of two utterly masterful scenes.

The first is like something out of Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers, only with an added dose of reality. It sees the group collectively mime to Rihanna’s “Diamonds”, the screen tinted with an aqua fresh glare, in a hotel room rented for momentary respite from real life. The song lyrics reflect Marieme’s aspirations — those dreams she cares so much about — while also latching onto the more materialistic, idealistic psyche prominent in the minds of maturing teens (the quartet are all wearing delicate, expensive-looking dresses as they dance and sing about gemstones).

Inevitably, there are lots of peaks and troughs — from our characters squabbling affectionately and giggling the day away, to painful rejection at home. A scene where Marieme’s brother returns to their apartment in a fit of rage as she chats happily to her younger sister is incredibly well acted, Touré’s instinctive reaction almost as good as it gets from an actor (especially one in her first film). The piece touches on gender politics but never gets weighed down by it because, most of the time, to the girls their gender isn’t an issue. Other themes that arise include the paranoia of growing up, where everything feels like a competition and everybody a competitor, embodied by pre-arranged fights between gang members.

Though exceptional throughout, Girlhood arguably loses some vitality during the final act, but you get the sense that this decrease in energy is applied for a reason — it is Marieme’s worst half hour on screen, after all. The film is at its best when catching up with the four girls. Assa Sylla, Lindsay Karamoh, Mariétou Touré are each individually effective but their collective effort bulges with vigour. A game of minigolf game perfectly illustrates their infectious chemistry.

Cinematographer Crystel Fournier makes use of light and darkness, blue tints, and a rich colour palette to make the film reverberate with life despite the gravelly surroundings. Blunt gang verbiage such as “iced” and “wasted” is littered throughout, a classically un-French touch that serves to keep the gritty, urban atmosphere afloat. Electronic pulses in between scenes make up a soundtrack bearing that same psychedelic nighttime vibe as Drive.

French cinema is a go-to destination for those after simplistic dramas about people and life (Blue is the Warmest Colour similarly lit up the big screen last year). Girlhood is another that fits that mould. In a way, it is very unlike Boyhood — the perspective taken on growing up is rougher in this instance — but the two films would make a wonderful double-bill, equal in overarching message and, just about, in quality.

Images credit: IMP Awards, Collider

Begin Again (2014)

★★★★

Director: John Carney

Release Date: July 11th, 2014 (UK & US)

Genre: Drama; Music

Starring: Keira Knightley, Mark Ruffalo

Why do they get nine out of ten of her dollars? Those are the words that spring from the mouth of Keira Knightley’s Gretta, a talented musician with a newfound shrewdness for business economics and life in general. Her question is aimed at record label producer Saul (Yasiin Bey aka Mos Def) who likely knows more about the dials on an Auto-Tune system than he does real musical verve.

But this isn’t a straightforward examination of the successes and failures of the contemporary music landscape. That is an underlying — and at times on the nose — theme, but not the film’s primary prerogative. Begin Again is more tuned into people, and how the relationships between those people unfold within a high intensity city, surrounded by an even higher intensity business.

We begin with an impressive James Corden as best friend Steve, encouraging a reluctant Gretta to get up and play one of her songs in a dingy New York City bar. She’s good, but through the murmurs and glass-smashing nobody takes much notice. Apart from Dan (Mark Ruffalo), who looks a little worse for wear. Dan, as it transpires, is a struggling record producer and former partner of the aforementioned Saul. Differing business models caused the split, a common occurrence in Dan’s life — he is also separated from his wife and bears the brunt of a friction-fuelled relationship with his daughter. Alcohol is his solution, which leads him to a dingy New York City bar.

And then we begin again, only this time our two central characters arrive imbued with backstory. The non-linear storytelling technique used early in the film is one of a few nuances implemented by director John Carney that help to maintain the freshness of what otherwise might be an occasionally dour narrative. When we first meet Gretta and Dan their individual baggage is evident, and because both Knightley and Ruffalo instantly come across empathetically, our affection greatly increases as their bad experiences are unveiled.

Dan is at odds both personally and professionally. He lives alone in a dank apartment that has probably seen more hangovers than clean bed sheets. Much to his ineffectual chagrin, his daughter Violet (Hailee Steinfeld) wears attire unsuitable for school. “Jodie Foster from Taxi Driver,” is Dan’s unsavoury description. It’s a good thing Gretta is around to interject as wardrobe advisor in between bouts of album recording.

Gretta used to be outgoing and inspired until she and ex-boyfriend Dave Kohl (Adam Levine) unceremoniously severed ties. She becomes those things again when in Dan’s company, but their partnership thankfully doesn’t venture down generic romantic channels when you get the feeling it might. Carney, who directed and wrote the screenplay, has form in the genre — he helmed the much lauded indie music-drama Once, and puts the positive expertise gained from that to use here.

Ruffalo and Knightley excel individually and collectively. Ruffalo is particularly full of off-kilter charm as the scruffy music lover trying to maintain originality in an increasingly banal industry. When the actor is in his element — quirky, unfiltered and eccentric — he is really great, and he’s in his element for the duration. In a tough role to get right, Knightley manages to be genuinely likeable. It is a characterisation that can have thankless, mopey elements, however Knightley carries Gretta with realistic ambition — her talent is never really in question, just her own personal desire to work on an album — therefore we don’t have to sit through endless hurdles of self-doubt.

That being said, from a broad perspective the film does exist in a picture perfect world. Even though Dan is no longer with his wife, terrifically portrayed by Catherine Keener, the duo still have a budding relationship (in other words, they get along more than they argue). Gretta, on the day before she is set return to England, somehow finds herself playing her own song in front of the only guy willing to take a punt on her. Despite a quip about possible rainfall, the sun also always seems to be shining. However, any potential misgivings regarding circumstance play second fiddle to engaging performances and otherwise unsentimental storytelling.

Bubbling underneath all the character drama (you could say it is the film’s bassist) is a plot about the commercialisation of the music industry. Dan is the victim of this shift away from ingenuity, a notion captured in a funny yet somewhat overtly glaring scene that sees the song scout try unsuccessfully to remove wall “art” from his record label premises. “We need vision, not gimmicks,” he bemoans having just endured an endless stream of overproduced pop demos.

As an A&R man, there is also a compelling dynamic between Dan and Gretta. In an electric conversation over drinks, we can literally see Dan squirm around on his stool as he talks about compromising in order to, “Get people in [the door] before the music can do its work.” In a way Gretta is more of a purist than he, though that might be expected given she is the artist.

The proverbial ‘bad’ side of modern music is embodied by a bizarre record exec who flaunts that cocky Bradley Cooper vibe from American Hustle. Carney does afford some leeway to the idea that music and money are worst enemies by including the horrendously named Troublegum (CeeLo Green), one of Dan’s prized discoveries who still has his back. This allows for a hilarious impromptu rap scene that probably accurately reflects how CeeLo converses in real life.

The New York setting serenades the film with helping of authenticity — while doing press for the movie, Knightley spoke of how the crew adopted a guerrilla filmmaking style when shooting in back alleys and on rooftops. The songs themselves are woody and energetic, and certainly mirror Dan’s desperation to save the spirit of music. The soundtrack isn’t as earthy as something like Inside Llewyn Davis, or even Crazy Heart, but like in those films, the songs do play a part in ensuring proceedings don’t begin to flounder.

Begin Again balances carefully developed characters and musical intermissions with a somewhat stinging appraisal of how music is produced today. Gretta simply wants to write songs and release them for anyone’s consumption. She would charge as little as a dollar for her album. By the way, you can purchase Begin Again’s year-old soundtrack for £5.99 on iTunes. Huh. At least the film itself sticks to its admirable laurels.