Get On Up, Paddington & Horrible Bosses 2 – Richards Reckons Reviews

A soul legend, a bear legend and, er, a Kevin Spacey (who is, ya know, a legend) cameo appear in this instalment of Richards (legend, if I do say so myself) Reckons in a whole host of reviews. Sorry, I’ve said legend too many times and now it doesn’t seem like a word anymore…

Anyway, right, Get On Up.

So, like many musical biopics, Get On Up is about a musical hero, and the hero in this case is the godfather (no, not that one) of soul James Brown, played by future Marvel superhero Chadwick Boseman. It follows the man from his humble roots living in the woods to international superstardom, focussing on his ascent in musical history and his relationships with longtime contributor Bobby Byrd (Nelsan Ellis), his agent Ben Bart (Dan Ackroyd) and his various bandmates and partners over the years.

The film isn’t exactly told in chronological order; in fact, it jumps around all over his timeline like a grasshopper on a pogo stick. Now, much like a grasshopper on a pogo stick, this works some of the time and sometimes it does not; indeed, the first time we see him is in the late 80s holding a shot gun at a small conference, demanding to know who used his loo. It’s not an obvious place to start, but it’s an intriguing one, leaving you wanting to know quite how he got to that level. The device of a flashback flashforward structure is a mixed bag but it makes the film feel as dynamic as the man himself.

It ticks all the boxes of a good musical biopic; including parts of the story being related to real world events, such as Vietnam and the assassination of Dr Martin Luther King being thrown into the mix. But what elevates this above a solid but standard fair is the not so much performance but inhabitation of James Brown by Chadwick Boseman. Everything, from his dancing to his movement to his voice and mannerisms is absolutely spot on. It’s an astounding role played astoundingly; the role of a slightly unhinged hero is one that actors would cherish to play, and Boseman does it so so well it’s hard to imagine anybody else doing it.

Speaking of unhinged, if I had a criticism of the movie I would say that it does somewhat paper over some of the cracks of the negative parts of his characters. He treats some of the women in his life appallingly, including domestic abuse; the film shows this happen but then doesn’t focus on how she feels about it, or even his guilt about it. It also shows his terrible treatment of some of his bandmates, but never really focusses on the repercussions of this; it just kind of shows it happening and then moves on. That said, the film could easily have omitted all these elements altogether and made Brown a completely clean hero, which would feel both wrong and inauthentic.

The musical numbers in this film too are also fantastic, using original James Brown recordings to great effect in conjunction with some wonderful choreography. But as I say the blistering performance from Chadwick Boseman really does steal the show here and separates, as well as elevates, Get On Up to another level. If you’re a fan of not just soul but music at all, get on up off your computer and see it when you can!

The next station is Paddington. Change here for joy, warmth and heart.

Based on the classic Michael Bond creation, Paddington is a modern retelling of the classic tale, which goes a little something like this; a young bear (Ben Wishaw) lives in Darkest Peru with his Auntie Lucy and Uncle Pastuzo (Imelda Staunton & Michael Gambon). One day, there’s a terrible earthquake, and his Auntie Lucy suggests that he go and find a new home in London, because they “know how to welcome new people there”. So off he goes to London, but doesn’t quite find the warm reception he was anticipating. At Paddington station, with a label around his neck saying “please look after this bear”, the Brown family (including Hugh Bonneville and Sally Hawkins) find him and decide to take him in. From there, fuzzy chaos ensues.

There’s been a lot of pseudo-controversy surrounding Paddington recently. FIrst about Colin Firth’s “conscious uncoupling” (a term coined I believe by Chris Martin’s failed marriage) from the project; Colin Firth was originally meant to be voicing the little bear himself, but decided along with the creative team that it was best to part with the project. Secondly, the BBFC rated the film as “PG” rather than “U”, which caused a massive stir (not helped by newspapers, certainly) due to “sexual references”; it has since been changed to “inneundo”, which is a small downgrade, but it wasn’t as if before this Paddington was wearing a bra and eyeing up Mr Brown like a toyboy. So in the face of this swirling controversy, people were worried about quite how this national icon was going to be portrayed on screen.

It gives me great pleasure to say that Paddington is an utter delight; like a big, warm hug of a movie, almost like getting a cuddle from the bear himself.

The reason it works so well is down to a sweet, marmalade-like mix of features. Firstly, the bear himself. I mentioned earlier about the conscious uncoupling by Colin Firth from the movie, and in a way actually I’m glad because I now cannot imagine him having any other voice apart from Ben Wishaw’s. It’s got everything that Paddington needs; warmth, sweetness, versatility – it has everything in spades. Colin Firth’s voice would feel too aloof and not playful enough. The animation of the bear himself is phenomenal, giving him so much presence and emotion in the movie and none of that dead eyes that other animated characters have suffered from in recent years. Director Paul King of Mighty Boosh fame does a fantastic job of placing Paddington firmly as the focus of every scene, and making him not seem out of place at the same time.

The writing too is genuinely funny for people of all ages, with archetypes, references and puns galore for the adults and gloriously (not annoyingly) silly jokes for both regular sized kids and big kids. The plot too is easy to follow for kids; there is a protagonist, yes, in the form of Nicole Kidman as an ardent taxidermist, but she isn’t any more terrifying than perhaps Cruella de Vil is to kids. There are scenes that are sad and scenes where Paddington is in danger, but these scenes are absolutely necessary for a family film so that there are bits where the kids can root for Paddington instead of watching him stumble through life (as entertaining as that is!).

It’s a warm hug of a movie, with an underlying political message of acceptance and the “welcoming British” which, in a time of UKIP and rows about immigration, is a wonderful thing to see. It’s a love letter to the character, and to British charm and wit. Please, PLEASE take your children to see Paddington over Nativity 3: Dude Where’s My Donkey? this Christmas; it deserves it so much more, and is a better experience for everybody on pretty much every front. And temptation of suicide would be far, far lower with Paddington…

And finally, time for Horrible Bosses 2.

These Horrible Bosses have a plot, and that plot is this; Nick, Kurt and Dale (Jason Bateman, Jason Sudeikis and Charlie Day) are back, and have had an idea for an invention since we last saw them trying to murder their bosses. The invention is the “shower buddy”. They go on the telly with their idea and get noticed by Burt and Rex Hanson (Christoph Waltz and Chris Pine), Burt being the owner of a big billionaire company who want to distribute the “shower buddy” – however it turns out that Burt gleefully backs out of the deal and rips off their idea, leaving them $500,000 in debt. Obviously miffed by this, they cook up a scheme to kidnap Rex and hold him to ransom, demanding their money back. But, as with last time, things don’t go to plan.

As with all sequels, your level of acceptance of Horrible Bosses 2 will teeter down to whether or not you liked the first one. And in this case your level of tolerance with Charlie Day’s voice (mine is higher than perhaps some folks’ is). It is by all means not going to convert anybody new to the franchise, and it has just the same level of filthy gags, comic ineptitude and some admittedly quite funny cameos from major stars such as Kevin Spacey, Jamie Foxx and Jennifer Anniston. It’s so similar in fact that it bears the question quite why this one was made; dollar signs are the answer here, of course, nothing more.

That said, I have seen worse comedy sequels in my time. Quite how absolutely hapless and stupid Dale and Kurt are while coming up with these schemes is certainly entertaining to watch, and some of the phonetic jokes are better than the pointlessly filthy ones. I for one can find a rude joke quite funny and have a high tolerance of them, but the same thing again and again and again can get a bit tiresome. Still though, there are enjoyable things to be found in Horrible Bosses 2, such as the admittedly quite slick editing (they love a good montage) and entertaining sequences, even if it is farfetched and ridiculous. The cameos from old horrible bosses Kevin Spacey and Jennifer Anniston do feel like they’ve been blu-tac’d on to the plot somewhat for the sake of having them back, but they’re JUST ABOUT enjoyable enough to warrant them being there. There’s also a nice role in there too for Jonathan Banks (aka Mike in Breaking Bad), essentially playing the same cop role as ever, but he plays it so well that hey, I ain’t complaining.

So with Horrible Bosses 2 there are a few laughs in there for returning fans of the first film, and some enjoyable sequences and cameos, but the feeling of “… what was the point of this again?” can’t quite escape from your mind during the running time. However, there are certainly worse comedies out there.

The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1, Nativity 3: Dude Where’s My Donkey? & The Drop – Richards Reckons Reviews

What do an ass (as in a donkey, not as in dat booty), a mockingjay (as in the fictional bird, not making fun of The Inbetweeners character) and a dog have in common? Well, apart from being fictional as well as not so fictional animals, they all feature in this triple decker post of film reviews from this very week.

First off, it’s Nativity 3: Dude Where’s My Donkey? 

Despite what the title suggests, the central thrust of the plot here is not actual a quest for an ass gone AWOL. No, instead, it is this; Jeremy Shepherd (Martin Clune, Martin Clune) has been brought into St. Bernadette’s school in Coventry as a ‘super teacher’ to bring the whole school into check before a dreaded Ofsted inspection. He brings his daughter with him to work, and is soon to be wed to Sophie (Catherine Tate) in New York. Mr Poppy (Marc Wootton) is still at the school causing havoc and generally disrupting learning, and this time has a fascination with his donkey Archie, who he for some reason brings to school with him. Mr Shepherd gets rid of the donkey but, in the process, gets kicked in the head and can’t remember anything at all. Instead of taking him to a hospital, Mr Poppy and the class decide to, with their seemingly infinite amount of money, take him on a tour around places from his childhood so his memory come back, before also entering a flash mob competition in London to win tickets to New York so he can wed Sophie again.

People who know me outside of this blog (or ‘IRL’ as the kids call it) will know that I am borderline fanatical about Christmas. I LOVE Christmas. The songs, the cheer, the togetherness, the gifts, the food, the lights, the warm fuzzy feeling of Christmas day finally arriving; if Christmas were a person, they’d have a restraining order on me by now. This film genuinely feels like somebody’s attempt to make me hate Christmas; like a kind of sick aversion therapy to Yuletide cheer.

Here’s a picture of a chicken nugget.

That picture is more entertaining than Nativity 3.

Firstly, the writing is utterly, utterly dreadful. Director Debbie Isitt (Isitt worth it, Debbie? Isitt?) makes a point out of giving her child cast the skeleton of the story and letting the kids come out with the rest; a technique that sounds familiar, because it’s exactly what the makers of Outnumbered do. The difference is, with Outnumbered it’s actually funny, sweet and the talent is nurtured and organic, backed up with a funny story as its backbone. In contrast and to use the same metaphor, Nativity 3 has a damp breadstick of a plot as its backbone, and it feels like the poor child cast have been uncomfortably forced to go through it over and over and over again until they’re literally red in the face. I have absolutely no idea what Martin Clunes and Catherine Tate are doing here as they are utterly, utterly wasted and, surprisingly, bring absolutely nothing to their poorly written dialogue.

The plot makes NO SENSE either. It feels like a 4 year old child has been forced to watch Glee and Trance and has written a teardrop covered story out of shreds of what he has just seen in crayon. Its reliance on the classic “I hit my head and forgot everything about my life” plot beat is ridiculous to begin with, but the fact that Mr Poppy then takes him along with a CLASS OF 30 CHILDREN (one of whom looks about 16 despite it being set at a PRIMARY SCHOOL) to the north of England AND TO F*CKING NYC without any kind of police investigation is astoundingly dumb. It also relies on the popularity of flash mobs (including an extended one echoing that contemporary pop classic Gangnam Style); something that I’m pretty sure hasn’t been in the public consciousness since 1837 (that may be a small exaggeration). The original songs that have been written to accompany said flashmobs are also utterly forgettable, with the odd few being dreadful. And they keep coming too. Over and over and over again; and just when you think that must be too many, there can’t be any more, ANOTHER sneaks up on you like a hit in the head.

Now, you may sense that I am being a little mean here or that “Richards, you’re NOT a child, and this film is FOR KIDS!!!”. But honestly, in terms of the humour, the songs and… well, pretty much everything about this film, the children of this country deserve so, so much better. I like to support British film where I can and the Nativity franchise has made lots and lots of money, but I cannot stress enough how awful this film is for pretty much everybody. There’s cartoonish gurning, slapstick, farting (SO much farting, not even the odd squeak, but it’s put in almost constantly like a buffer between flashmobs), and falling off/into things; stuff that kids can recognise as repetitive, boring and lazy. Avoid Nativity 3: Dude, Where’s My Donkey? as much as you can.

Phew. Right, now then, time for The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1.

So then, here’s the plot for this instalment of the games; Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer “J-Law (which confusingly isn’t also Jude Law’s nickname” Lawrence) has pretty much smashed the very concept of the Hunger Games into oblivion and has gone into hiding underground (quite literally) in District 13 with the rest of the revolutionary forces led by President Coin (Julianne Moore) and Plutarch Heavensbee (the tragically late Philip Seymour Hoffman) against President Snow (Donald Sutherland) and the extremely indulgent Capitol, who have taken Peeta (Josh Hutcherson) hostage. Katniss is broken and terrified, but Coin and Heavensbee want her in fighting form to become the figurehead (or the “mockingjay”) for the revolution. Will she accept becoming an idol for the uprising?

I make no bones about it; I really, really like The Hunger Games series. It’s one of the best franchises out there at the moment in that it doesn’t hold back; it’s suitably dark where it needs to be, but in a classy rather than trashy way, with a richly designed backdrop and writing that’s intelligent and doesn’t dumb down for the audiences, but rather treats them with the respect that films should do. It makes me feel ruddy pleased to say that, thanks to director Francis Lawrence and the rest of the good team Hungames (I’m sure they call themselves that), this instalment is no different.

This is very much the Deathly Hallows Part 1, or first-of-a-Doctor-Who-two-parter of The Hunger Games franchise, with lots and lots of build up and character moments rather than outright battles and action aplenty. Some have bemoaned this instalment for not being action packed enough or not having enough setpieces, but I believe this works to the series benefit as a whole. A lack of action does not at all make a film boring. Many people have criticised Hollywood’s latest approach of splitting adapted stories into two halves as being cash ins or milking it (The Hobbit being the absolute worst offender of this, splitting a very small book into THREE), but Mockingjay Part 1 works in that there are plenty of character moments that are very well played by its cast, and more than enough going on within it to warrant its existence in the first place.

Rather than battles on the battlefield or in the arena (which, as we discovered at the end of the previous film, actually looks a bit like the Eden Project, this is a film where the battles take place on the airwaves and in the media (yet another film this year in which this is the case, actually); the Capitol and the Mockingjay hijacking each other and sending messages out to the people to enrage/calm them respectively, a bit like two squabbling children (though one is significantly bigger and richer than the other) fighting over a remote control. Blood is certainly spilt and the tension is certainly there in parts, but this time it’s outside the arena, giving the appearance that nobody is safe at any time. It’s a tension that weighs down on Katniss’ shoulders heavily and Jennifer Lawrence portrays it wonderfully, showing her to be capable, spiteful, vulnerable, inspirational and broken often all at once.

While perhaps not as fast paced as Catching Fire, there’s still plenty of surprises, well written AND well performed characters (it’s hard to think of a dull note performance wise), dialogue and subtext to warrant seeing Mockingjay Part 1; it’ll certainly make you extremely excited for Mockingjay Part 2…

It also has Natalie Dormer in it too, which is always a plus point in my book. Oh Natalie…

And, finally, The Drop.

This drop (unlike the bass or tear variety) has a plot, and that plot is this; Bob Saginowski (Tom Hardy) is a bartender living in Brooklyn who works at a bar called Cousin Marv’s, which is owned by his actual cousin, Cousin Marv (the tragically late James Gandolfini). It’s what known as a “drop bar”; a bar that could be randomly selected by the criminal underworld to use as a kind of overnight safe for all the dodgy cash they’re making. The night after their bar is chosen, Cousin Marv’s is robbed by two masked men, and the gangland money is stolen. The gangsters are, understandably, upset, and make them get it back at any cost. Meanwhile, Bob finds an injured pitbull puppy in a neighbour’s (Noomi Rapace) bin (surely inspired by the tragedy of “cat bin lady”) and tries to look after it while bonding with her.

Unlike The Hunger Games, the thing with The Drop is that it is perhaps a bit too quiet for its own good. While we have a brooding central performance by Tom Hardy, we don’t really have much in the way of action of thriller; it is instead an exploration of one particularly lonely character’s mindset within the murky Brooklyn crime world. James Gandolfini’s Marv perhaps doesn’t resonate as much as he ought to because he’s very similar to what we’ve seen Gandolfini do in the past; admittedly he does it well, but it does feel like he’s coasting, almost, which is a real shame as this is his last performance. There are twists in the tale that perhaps you might see coming, too, but are still entertaining enough to watch.

The surprisingly sweet narrative of a lonely man with a cute, battered puppydog trying to connect with a female neighbour does actually work quite well alongside its occasionally darker aspects, and is one of the film’s strengths. Tom Hardy’s performance, as usual, steals the show here. Perhaps it is adapted from a short story, you can feel it being stretched over the length of the film quite thinly, but it’s not necessarily a bad story; just not a hugely enthralling one either. To say I loved The Drop would be a sort of lie, as I didn’t, but I certainly didn’t hate it either.

Interstellar & Say When – Richards Reckons Reviews

Just two movieworks to be Reckoned in this post, one of which is a romcom starring Kiera Knightley, and the other appears to have an entire plot based on a Beastie Boys song…

(Seriously though, “I’ll stir fry you in my wok” is one of the best rap pseudo-threats ever)

Right, so, time for Intergalactic, planetary, planetary, intergalactic. Another dimension, another dimension…

Sorry, no. Of course, I mean Chris Nolan’s latest epic headscratch extravaganza Interstellar.*

So, wagwan in the world of Interstellar? Well, in the near future, Earth is not doing too great; faith in science has fallen due to dustbowls occurring on a near daily basis (almost like somebody is beating a carpet, except this carpet is the Earth’s surface), and the only crop that’s left and is still growable seems to be corn. After an accident ruined his career as an astronaut, Cooper (Matthew “Alright alright alright” McConaughey) lives on a farm with his two children Tom and Murphy (Timothèe Chalamet & Mackenzie Foy respectively) and his dead wife’s father (John Lithgow). Strange things (think Signs) start happening around his house; one thing leads to another, and he ends up discovering the hiding place of NASA, lead by Professor Brand (Michael Caine – and, no, his first name isn’t Russell). He, along with a crew including his daughter (Anne Hathaway), has hatched a plan to save humanity once and for all – to look for a new home in the stars…

To avoid the spoiler safari, I unfortunately cannot go into the rest of the plot. In fact, this whole review will be pretty abstract without going into too many details unfortunately as to do so may ruin some of the more surprising aspects of the film. But I can say this; the whole thing is based on real life actual scientific theories, including time relativity, dimensional travel and wormholes. Blimey. To see that a movie is based on these very real and hugely complex theories can seem daunting; and, indeed, it is brave of Nolan to work a whole movie sticking rigidly to the “science” bit of science fiction. For the most part, it works; the science goes hand in hand nicely and snugly with the narrative drive and sentimentality of the writing.

Thumbs up from Coops, there.

However, there are occasions (the frequency of which increases over the running time) where the film seems to abandon this verisimilitude (I know, long word, eh?!) and loosens its grip on the real life theories – and, admittedly, on sense and logic. The effect of having a plot woven from the silk of real life scientific theory is twofold; firstly, it’s staggeringly impressive and brave and adds to the “bloody hell this could ACTUALLY HAPPEN” feel of the film, and gives it a strange degree of authenticity. The second end of the stick (I guess that’s the other end of the stick but, hey, I’m going for second seeing as my eyes have been opened to how crazy reality is) is that, because the film will probably want to expand its audience beyond just astrophysicists and the odd astronaut, the film is tasked with explaining these theories to the audience too, while incorporating them into the plot at the same time.

Admittedly, this has mixed results. While some is explained in layman’s terms very well indeed (obviously I knew absolutely everything about this already, being a PHD holder in, er, science), borrowing the pencil trick (one of two of the greatest “pencil tricks” in modern cinema, another one coming from Nolan himself in The Dark Knight) from Event Horizon to explain wormhole travel, some of the exposition feels like you’re being smashed across the head with a physics textbook – which is, obviously, an off-putting feeling. It’s rather clunkily put across in some instances. It also doesn’t help that the dialogue can be drowned out by Hans Zimmer’s admittedly staggering score and the SFX due to poor sound mixing (a problem that has happened before famously with Dark Knight Rises).

All this makes me sound like I didn’t like the film; I very much did. I was lucky enough to see it in IMAX and believe me when I say that, where possible, IMAX is the way to see this film. A movie with such grand and epic scope, as well as grand and epic imagery (the wormhole travel sequence is particularly staggering), deserves to be seen on a, well, grand and epic screen. The visuals, from the planets to the ships to space itself, are some of the most blow-your-hair-or-in-the-case-of-bald-people-then-blow-your-face-back stunning to have graced the screen this year. The performances too are, for the most part, great; the McCaughnassaince continues as Matthew puts his Texan everyman drawl and easy charisma into a role of an engineer who is tasked with saving all mankind, and the weight of that only occasionally showing. Anne Hathaway too plays Amelia Brand (again, middle name NOT Russell), a scientist who has an inward battle between logic and mysticism, with suitable vigour. But the real standout performance here comes from Mackenzie Foy as Murph, Cooper’s daughter; for such a young actor, she has a real grasp on acting being based on reaction and has a real emotional resonance. She’s one to keep your eye on, certainly. The father/daughter relationship is the heart of the film (I do feel a bit bad for Tom, who gets left on the wayside a little bit like Will Smith’s eldest son), and with wonderful performances from Matthew and Mackenzie, the heart’s in safe hands. Again, there are scenes I would love to point out as being particularly emotionally resonant that tugged on my heartstrings, but my lips are zipped I’m afraid.

So, while I do have my problems with some of the script content such as its narrative (its ending is particularly eyebrow raising) and some of its dialogue, Interstellar is certainly a fantastically cinematic ride, with good components far, far outnumbering the not so good components. It’s flawed, certainly, but in terms of its sheer ambition and ideas without veering over into being too silly (I’m looking at you, Transcendence), it will win you over and get you thinking about the very reality you’re living in; even if you are doing so with a headache…

Right, are you ready for the next review? I am when you are. Just Say When.

HAHAHAHAHA… HAHA… Ha… ah, at least I make myself laugh.

Right, so, Say When (or Laggies as it’s known Stateside from some reason) is a rom-com drama following twentysomething Megan (Kiera Knightley, pronounced “May-ghun”) as she realises that her life has effectively not gone anywhere since high school – she still lives with her high school boyfriend (Mark Webber) and works flipping signs (which is apparently a thing in America) for her beloved father (Jeff Garlin) while the rest of her friends are having babies and getting married and generally progressing with their careers. On a chance encounter with teenager Annika (Chloe Grace Moretz, appearing yet again on Richards Reckons) and her friends outside a grocery store and ends up spending a lot of time with them, meeting Annika’s father Craig (Sam Rockwell) in the process. But will May-ghun choose to get on with her life or stick with Annika and co for the foreseeable?

The script is nothing revolutionary, nor is the story, but it’s a theme that I think, as a relatively recent university graduate in this day and age, resonated (I’m obsessed with that word today, apparently) with me quite a lot. It taps into a feeling that everybody has had at different points in their lives; a feeling that everybody else is surpassing you and leaving you behind. It perhaps is not the best movie with this theme as it does not offer much in the way of morals or redemption, but it’s certainly not the worst either.

In other hands, the lead character of Megan could be grating, moany and entitled, but she’s actually quite sympathetic, fun and watchable in the hands of Kiera Knightley (who I am becoming a fan of now, it seems). Sam Rockwell and Chloe Grace Moretz are, as usual, fantastic in their roles and have great chemistry together as a 21st century father and daughter; Rockwell stealing pretty much every scene he’s in, like always. The characters are very much the saving grace of the film, making it almost feel like a series of vignettes in which you spend time with enjoyable characters that are sort of linked together rather than an overarching story.

It’s by no means a laugh a minute affair, but it’s good fun with a few chuckles here and there. There are some questionable narrative choices (especially towards the end and quite where we leave Megan at the end of the story), but overall it’s a fun, moderately inoffensive and largely unremarkable film with an admittedly great cast. Though quite why it’s called Say When I have no idea…

*nerdy point – the plot is actually more similar to Muse’s 3 part mini rock opera Exogenesis. In fact, if you listen to the lyrics, it’s near exactly the same;

Mr. Turner, Ouija, Horns & The Necessary Death of Charlie Countryman – Richards Reckons Reviews

Some paintings, a board, some horns and Romania. Anybody would have thought that’s a blurb of a novel about a Romanian minotaur living in an art gallery trying to make it as a skateboarder, but alas, it is not (I’ll work on that later though as a stocking filler for 2015).

Let’s kick off with Mr. Turner.

While it sounds like the biopic of a substitute maths teacher, it is not; instead, it’s the Mike Leigh directed biopic of J. M. W. Turner, one of Britain’s most prolific painters in the 19th century. Weirdly, the film doesn’t have a plot as such; it simply follows Turner (Timothy Spall) at the height of his career and final 30 years of his life, as well as his relationships with his father (Paul Jesson), his housemaid (Dorothy Atkinson), the aristocracy, the Royal Academy of Art and Mrs Booth (Marion Bailey).

Rather aptly for a film about one of the best painters in British history, the film itself looks beautiful. Each frame is lovingly crafted and carefully coloured much like a painting; it’s no accident that door frames and window frames are used consistently as borders of the shot, like the frames of a painting (how’s that for meta, eh? A film about art, which in itself is art, looks like art). Cinematographer Dick Pope won an award at Cannes for this film and ruddy rightly so too; the shots are so incredibly classy and rich that it feels like you are in a gallery.

The film also has some staggering performances in it, not least by Timothy Spall. He is absolutely phenomenal as Turner; he inhabits a persona of assured arrogance yet vulnerability; a flawed genius dedicated and passionate about his work, and dealing with criticism and praise in various different ways. He behaves somewhat unusually; saying things by snorting and grunting more than with actual words, and varying between confidently striding or meandering through his life; between visiting brothels and the aristocracy. He is by no means a morally absolute protagonist either – he uses and abuses his landlady for sex when he wants to, while she retains adoration for him regardless of this mistreatment. But shades of grey are interesting, and while it isn’t the most overstated performance, it’s sure to win awards and astonish. There are brilliant turns from Marion Bailey too as the lovely Mrs Booth, the lady that Mr Turner decides to live with incognito (although obviously not THAT incognito seeing as the film knows about it… Just sayin’).

A sure awards contender, the script is also wonderfully crafted, with dialogue fresh from the 19th century without it being too dense. However, if I was being especially critical, I would say that it is a bit too long. It can feel somewhat indulgent at times, with scenes that don’t have any overall effect on the narrative lasting for a very long time (the older lady next to me actually kept falling asleep and snoring aloud, only to be jolted awake again by her tutting cinemagoer friend). The skeleton of the film is very good, as are the occasional bits of fat in there, but there is a bit too much narrative fat that can drag it down.

Potent, beautiful and amazingly well performed, Mr Turner won’t be for everybody’s tastes but is a true awards contender and a brilliant if indulgent look at the life of a unique artistic genius.

Speaking of, er, genius (ahem), let’s talk about Ouija.

Ouija is the heartbreaking true story of Dr John Ouija, a man who dedicated his life to finding a cure for children’s illnesses. Only joking, of course it’s not; it’s a horror film about a haunted house, of course! Best buddies Laine (Olivia Cooke) and Debbie (Shelley Hennig) have known each other all their lives, doing the regular girls do, like playing with ouija boards with one another (apparently they’re toys in America, as evidenced by the fact this film is PRODUCED by Hasbro themselves). In the present day, Debbie has been dabbling with the board again and ends up hanging herself with some fairy lights (a criminal waste, in my opinion). Wanting to talk with her, Laine begs her friends and sister to do a ouija board to try to contact Debbie in the afterlife; but, surprise surprise, it’s a terrible idea and awakens all sorts of spirits in the house…

So, yes, this is exactly what it sounds like; a jumpscare fest and nothing more, really. It does the regular checklist of things that modern horror films do; haunted house, basements, JUMPSCARES, attics, dolls, JUMPSCARES, creepy kids, gore, JUMPSCARES, being dragged away by an invisible force, burning ancient objects… did I mention JUMPSCARES? Nothing really resonates with the audience as being truly creepy or disturbing; it’s just a series of jolts (some of which, admittedly, are quite effective – some of which completely are not).

While it’s adequately short at around 90 minutes, parts of it still do feel boring and run of the mill, with scenes in which you can tell that nobody is in danger. You can tell that the actors, while giving it their all, are a bit bored by the whole affair as well and don’t really put too much into it; there’s a real lack of emotion and clarity to a film that involves so many supposed suicides of teenagers. The writing is also pretty poor and the plot convoluted and illogical; with more plot holes than a swiss cheese block that’s been violently attacked with a Black & Decker implement.

All in all, Ouija doesn’t add anything new to the genre unfortunately and serves a poor example of modern, quiet quiet JUMPSCARE horror cinema.

Now it’s time for Daniel Radcliffe getting horny (ROFLMAOLOL) in Horns.

Daniel “Harry Potter” Radcliffe plays a (frankly amazingly named) man called Ig Perrish, a musician from a small town in America. His beautiful girlfriend Merrin (Juno Temple) is horrifically raped and murdered, and Ig is suspect (and therefore public enemy) number 1. During this persecution by the media and townsfolk, he wakes up one day to find horns poking out of his head (don’t you just hate it when that happens?). These horns give him strange powers, such as people revealing every single horrible secret and desire they have to him and the ability to read minds. He uses this ability to try and track down Merrin’s actual killer, clear his name and get revenge.

Horns has been taking a bit of a critical kicking as of late, which I think is slightly undeserved. Horns has its problems of course – one of which is an uneven tone, which swerves between black comedy, sugary romance and full on supernatural and a bit silly. I love it when films contain multiple components and genres, but only when it feels like they gel well; in Horns, however, it feels like they are rustily changing gear rather than smoothly gliding through the scenes like fine narrative silk. There is also the ending, which as well as offering no redemption or explanation for a film that makes you so interested in looking for one, also is silly to ridiculous extremes and almost loses all of its credibility.

Apart from these aspects, though, there is a blackly fun film to be found, with some dark laughs and insight into the dark human condition and its impulses. The performances of Daniel Radcliffe and Juno Temple are particularly fantastic too; with Radcliffe’s accent being flawless and convincing, and his character portraying both desperation to full on badass anger effectively. It’s just a shame that the ending and its tonal confusion is letting it down.

Horns does not deserve the critical kicking it’s getting, as it can be darkly fun in areas, but it is far from perfect. A flawed slice of dark fun.

And finally, it’s time for The Necessary Death of Charlie Countryman (the film, not the absolutely fundamental demise of a man named Charlie Countryman).

So the plot behind this necessary death is this; Charlie Countryman (Shia LaBeouf) witnesses the death of his mother in hospital, and is visited by an apparition of her almost straight away afterwards (convenient, eh?). She tells him to go to Bucharest, because it “sounds specific” (which is, you know, reason enough? I guess?). So he catches a plane to Bucharest and meets a man, who promptly dies next to him. He tracks down her daughter Gabi (Evan Rachel Wood) at the airport, who he almost instantly falls for. But she has a dangerous ex-husband in Nigel (Mads Mikkelsen), who is a real rotter of a man, and does not take too kindly to Charlie intruding into Gabi’s life…

Oh, and also, Rupert Grint and James Buckley turn up too for some acid trip style sequences. Just thought I’d mention it.

I spoke earlier about Horns being a mixed bag, but this is a mixed bag with the strange ramped up to 11. It’s an utterly bizarre dark love story, and while that sounds good in the outset, it isn’t really. It tries to be dark and edgy with its violence but ultimately fails and feels incredibly silly; not even Mads Mikkelsen can bring any sense of being grounded or realistic to the pointlessly violent Nigel character and his endless list of henchmen. Shia LaBeouf apparently was actually on acid in a lot of the scenes where drug trips were required, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he was all the time during the filming of this; he constantly looks doe-eyed and sweaty. That said, his performance could certainly be a lot worse, but unfortunately is not enough to save the film.

There is also the matter of a tacked on subplot involving Rupert Grint and James Buckley’s characters (James Buckley’s is almost a carbon copy of Jay, except not as inherently innocent). While it was an enjoyable aside (and mad to see these three men together in the same film), there is certainly a feeling of “errr… why?” to it all. The surreal nature of the film doesn’t help this either, as it ultimately amounts to a fairly empty and pointless experience.

The subway chase sequence is, however, very good. Seek that out if you can. Lovely use of slow motion. But apart from that, Charlie Countryman is a bizarre movie that feels incredibly flimsy and “for the sake of it”.

Nightcrawler, Love Rosie & The Book of Life – Richards Reckons Review

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! No, I am not booing you, but rather I am booing AT you rather like a ghost would. For it is Halloween, and for Halloween, here are the reckonings for, er, one dark drama, a romcom and an animated family adventure. Scary times.

Let’s kick off by trawling through the underbelly of nighttime Los Angeles with Nightcrawler*.

There’s a plot here bleeding and therefore leading (if you’ve seen the trailer, that joke makes a lot of sense and you’re probably laughing literally right now) in this film, and here it is; Lou Bloom (a character not so much played by but inhabited by Jake Gyllenhaal) is an extremely driven, persuasive and somewhat odd young man who is desperate for employment, and isn’t afraid to break the law for money. When he witnesses the aftermath of a car accident on the highway, he notices Joe Loder (the mighty Bill Paxton. More films need more Paxton) filming the wreckage. Lou then becomes intrigued by the world of ‘nightcrawling’; filming ‘exciting’ news stories/crimes/accidents in LA and selling the footage to news outlets. He even takes on an assistant (Riz Ahmed) to help him to do so. But as he gets deeper and deeper, he gets more and more desperate for the big stories, and will go to any means to get them…

To find the heart and soul of this film, we must look to Lou Bloom himself. Lou Bloom (it’s such a fun name to type and say) is an unhinged man desperate for work; always willing to tell everybody who even walks past him his skill set, his passion for work, his flexibility in terms of working hours. In short, Lou Bloom is a twisted, dark reflection of the LinkedIn generation; a walking, talking, near grovelling, gaunt CV. He wants to belong and he wants to be the best at what he does, but he has no idea in what capacity yet. The world of nightcrawling meets his sensibilities for having a twisted eye and the ability to manipulate people to get an end goal. When he does get into a position of vague success and takes on his own “employee”, he spouts back all the stuff he’s heard already about work placements; replicating employment jargon as a power play and to swell his own chest up like a proud owl. The heart and soul of Lou Bloom is that of jealousy, darkness and psychopathy; as is the heart and soul of the film itself.

The weird thing, though, is that somehow I wanted him and the film to be nastier and more twisted. Don’t get me wrong, it deals with some harsh subject matter and events in a darkly, hilariously trivial way (the skewed reality that news shows is made shockingly apparent) but I felt there was a step beyond that they did not go to. Now, this may be because to make Lou any more actively deranged would be too far, but it’s a ledge-beyond-the-edge (not the U2 guitarist) I wouldn’t have minded the film going to. Nonetheless, the protagonist and his scheming is what makes Nightcrawler such a great watch; quite what he’s up to, what he’s going to do next and how he is going to react keeps you guessing the whole way through, dealing with everything with internally ice cold, calculating efficiency. Jake Gyllenhaal is magnetising in this role, and this is, quite rightly, his show. Expect his fashion sense, with camera and nasal speaking voice to be replicated at fancy dress parties for a few years to come.

Nightcrawler* looks magnificent, too; it has an almost Drive like sensibility, with the bright shining city lights illuminating the dark stories unfolding before them, echoing the studio lights in the newsroom. The action is frantic where it needs to be, and the dialogue heavily paid attention to and given its due. The tension really does build in some sequences too, especially in (avoiding a spoiler safari here) a certain scene in somebody’s house. There are some scenes in the movie which feel like they can deflate this growing tension throughout the whole movie, but it’s still there, bubbling under the surface like a small but menacing kettle.

If I were to have small little niggling criticisms, I would say that I had a love/hate, hot/cold Katy Perry style relationship with the score; sometimes its guitars and bombast feel like they work, other times they don’t. The ending was also partially troubling for me too; there are parts I liked about it, but also parts I didn’t. This on/off style relationship I have with these components of course do not mean it’s a bad movie at all; a bad movie would make me flat out hate them.

Overall, however, while I’m not as fanatical about the film as I thought it would be, it’s still a very, very good ride; it keeps you guessing and truly plunges you head first into the world of chasing sirens and getting your hands well and truly dirty. Director Dan Gilroy has a hell of a writer/director debut on his hands with this one, and is rightly getting all the attention it deserves. If you like dark drama (if you don’t you’re pretty screwed at the cinema right now if I’m honest…), then be sure to check Nightcrawler* out as soon as you can.

Now onto romantic fluff-fest which has a confusingly placed comma in its title, Love, Rosie.

 

Love, Rosie (ARGH THAT COMMA) is the story of two friends, one a boy (Alex, played by Sam Claflin) and one a lady (called Rosie, funnily enough, played by Lily Collins – daughter of Phil), who grow up together throughout primary and high school, always juuuust missing out on each other. When she becomes pregnant and he moves away to Boston for university, the two try to keep in touch throughout the various events in their lives, but will they eventually get together and admit their feelings for one another?

You’ll remember when I reviewed The Best of Me only last week, I said it was one of the worst films of the year by far. The key point in that review was that I did not like it not because I am not in its target demographic, but because it was so utterly ridiculous and shambolically written it was insulting towards its target demographic. Once again, I am not in the target demographic for this film; extremely masculine and manly men such as myself aren’t in mind when these films are made. However, Love, Rosie is considerably better for its target audience than The Best of Me in a number of ways.

For a start, it is actually quite funny. Towards the beginning, it has quite a liberal attitude to sex and the uncomfortable parts of it that reflects nicely on screen, making the characters seem genuine and down to earth, despite how ridiculously good looking (read in Zoolander voice) they are. I was actually worried that after his turn as the despicable Alistair in The Riot Club it would be impossible for me to ever like Sam Claflin ever again, but he is a suitably charming but bumbling Hugh Grant figure here. Lily Collins as our central character is, too, an extremely likeable screen presence; you root for her the whole way through. It also has genuine character growth and narrative beats that, while somewhat contrived, do actually logically work and don’t feel all that forced; though that does include several weddings and a funeral (golden events in the romcom rulebook), as well as a level of predictability that can make the audience feel like fortune tellers.

Somewhat bizarrely, the thing I admire about the film is also something that it falls over on quite a few times; the timeframe. This film isn’t set over a summer or a year; it’s actually over several years, spanning to a little over a decade. While I respect the narrative choice to cover this amount of time, the film doesn’t really show much physical or mental progression by either of these characters over these relatively formative years of their young adult lives. The fact that they are and always have been in love is of course the common denominator, but there are no real dramatic changes except in terms of marital status; barely a hair moves on them throughout these years.

So, while contrived and a bit formulaic, this is a perfectly fine British rom com that doesn’t change the romcom rulebook, but sticks by it to good but not amazing effect.Though it does have the best use of Lily Allen’s song “F**k You” I’ve seen in a while, if you’re a romantic comedy fan then you will really enjoy this film; if you don’t, then there’s little to find here that warrants seeing it. Though it does of course tell the lesson that you can’t hurry love, no you’ll just have to wait, she said love don’t come easy… (get it? Because Lily Collins is Phil Collins daughter? And he sang that so- never mind…)

And, finally, we have the Guillermo del Toro produced The Book of Life.

 

Books have plots, and The Book of Life, though it sounds like a vague and sweeping title, is no different. In it, we have the story of two best friends Manolo (Diego Luna) and Joaquin (Channing all over your Tatum), who are both in love with their friend Maria (Zoe Saldana). The rulers of the different underworlds, La Muerte (Kate del Castillo) and Xibalba (Ron Perlman), make a wager with one another as to who Maria will marry; with La Muerte betting on Manolo and Xibalba betting on Joaquin. The boys grow up, but Maria moves away. Upon her return, who will she marry, and which post-death landlord will win the bet?

The story is actually more convoluted than that, bookended by a narrative framing device and also involving a town invaded by bandits, bullfighting, a love of music and a magical macguffin (just like my life, really). There is a LOT going on in this film in terms of story, as well as being based on Mexican beliefs about the afterlife; both concepts that very young children may find hard to grasp. Indeed, it can be quite confusing in some instances. But there is still a lot of fun to be had here once you get past the heavy exposition.

The locations, such as the magical fiesta world of the Land of the Remembered, are wonderfully vibrant and beautifully presented, and there are some fun voice performances (Ice Cube has a surprisingly funny turn) and dynamic dialogue for both kids and adults alike. The spirit of fun runs very deep within the Book of Life, presenting grand ideas such as what happens after we die and the nature of death in a jovial and colourful way rather than a heartbreakingly bleak way; indeed, one character at one point groans of the story “What is it with Mexicans and death?!”. Its look is also surprisingly original too, in a cinematic landscape filled to the brim with different character designs; the Book of Life has its own look and style that separates it from the rest.

In all, The Book of Life is perfect half term fodder; a colourful if exposition heavy and flawed family adventure with vibrant characters, a memorable look and fun dialogue.

*NOT the X-Men mutant

The Babadook & Alexander and The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day – Richards Reckons Reviews

A gruesome twosome for you today (well, one far more gruesome than the other, I suppose, unless you have a strange fear of Steve Carrell) on Richards Reckons, both about people having really quite terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days. Some considerably more than others…

First up on the bad day list is The Babadook.

SO then, The Babadook may go bump in the night but it does so with a plot, don’t you know, that plot being this; Amelia (Essie Davis) is a frazzled Australian mother, trying to cope both with the death of her husband and her difficult 6 year old son Samuel (Noel Wieseman). Samuel picks up a book from his shelf for Amelia to read to him at bedtime one day called ‘Mister Babadook’. Like a good mum, she starts to read to him, but notices that it’s an incredibly disturbing pop-up book about a creepy, sinister figure who preys on anybody it chooses. Samuel begins to see the Babadook everywhere he goes and his behaviour becomes more and more troubling, as Amelia slowly realises as the sanity of herself and her son starts to slide that the Babadook may not be just a book…

Okay, so you may remember in my review for Annabelle that my main criticism of it was that it was nothing in any way new, and is simply mildly scary down to being quiet-quiet-quiet-quiet-LOUD NOISE (or jumpscares as they’re known in the trade); scaring you and jolting you for a second but not lingering with you for any length of time (if you don’t remember that, feel free to scroll down and read it after saying “previously, on Richards Reckons…” to yourself).

The Babadook is the complete opposite of this.

The Babadook is INCREDIBLY disturbing. Its frights and chills don’t come from sudden jumps (though there are a few very effective ones), but instead the lingering sense of dread and its surreality. There is a nightmarish quality throughout the whole film (though particularly in its second half as it is quite a slow burner) that means, as an audience member, you are constantly unsure of what is going on; what’s real, what’s fake, who’s awake, who’s making that noise; even, at points, who is still sane. It is a very bizarre film which does not comply by any other rules of horror films or indeed reality; it, like the Babadook himself, is its own entity, creeping slowly into your consciousness and your fears; indeed, as Samuel says, “it wants to scare you first…”.

As I mentioned in that previous paragraph, it is a bit of a slow burner, but that makes it all the more effective. We are introduced to the main characters and their situation slowly rather than rushing it in; the film wants you to get to know its characters and their dilemmas before allowing the fear and supernatural eeriness to seep into them. If you are looking for a conventional “house being haunted by a ghost demon” (because ghosts are unpopular now since Paranormal Activity, it’s always gotta be demons) narrative that is ever so popular these days, you won’t find it here; it’s a completely different beast, acting in a completely different way. Amelia does what we would all do in this situation before things turn darker; asking for help, losing sleep over what is going on, generally not being an absolute horror-protagonist-idiot, making her even more relatable. But that ability to relate slips further and further away from the audience as her sanity is slowly peeled like an apple, making the audience more and more uneasy. The characters are portrayed astonishingly well by Essie Davis and Noel Wieseman; both of whom acting vulnerable and disturbed in equal measure all the time, as well as dealing with the heavier more dramatic elements of their relationship to incredible effect. Freud would have an absolute field day analysing their relationship…

As for the titular Babadook himself, he is terrifying. He looks like the demented cousin of both a Tim Burton creation and a Noel Fielding creation put into a blender. He reminds me a bit of the Judderman from those beer adverts in the 90s; sometimes moving like a stop motion character, sometimes near gliding across the floor; people in the screening I was in audibly whimpered at the sight of him. And we never really get a true glimpse of what he looks like in full, leaving a lot to the imagination, for your mind to fill in the blanks in the pant-wetting sight you see before you. The amazing sound design helps with this too, ramping up the tension and giving odd little noises in the background that can make even the smallest creak seem terrifying. The lighting, composition and even the design of the furniture gives the impression that the monster is always there at all times; once again, to quote Samuel (in the film, not the incredibly wise Samuel Richards); “you can’t get rid of the Babadook”.

In summary, then, director Jennifer Kent has done an amazing job here. The Babadook is a psychological horror that certainly won’t be to everybody’s tastes with its surreality and darkness, but it’s a truly intense and terrifying tale into things that go bump in the night and the psyches of those that hear said bumps. If you want to be scared this Halloween, make sure The Babadook is the film you see, as it gives you the willies in such an intelligent way (steady).

Next up, the astoundingly titled Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (which is still a better title than Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice).

 

So then, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (or AATTHNGVBD as I’ll know abbreviate it too, but even that feels like writing a short essay) is a day with a plot, and that plot is this; Alexander Cooper (Ed Oxenbould) is a 12 year old scamp who almost constantly down on his luck; at school, he’s accident prone and the other kids don’t like him so much, and at home he can be ignored by the rest of his family, who all seem to have much better luck than he does pretty much all the time. On the eve of his birthday, he makes himself an ice cream sundae at around midnight (terrible idea for his sleeping habits but there we are) and wishes that his family would experience a day similar to what he experiences all the time. The next morning, things start to get chaotic for the rest of the family, and Alexander tries to hold them all together…

This is the kind of plot description that can make adults groan because it’s from Disney, centred around a child and sounds a bit juvenile; it therefore could be all gooey and childish and not funny for adults. It is indeed fair to say that it is a family orientated movie, but there is a some enjoyment still to be had by adults here too. Steve Carrell and Jennifer Garner play Alex’s parents, both of them not exactly doing anything absolutely revolutionary with their performances but not underplaying them either; they fulfil their roles of stay-at-home-dad and workaholic-mum very well, with charm and warmth. Ed Oxenbould too has good comedic timing for such a young actor, and has a pleasant screen presence; though the film would pretty much wholly fall apart if this wasn’t the case.

The comedic setpieces, though somewhat slapstick, play out nicely and all contain things that the whole family can enjoy. It’s nice to see a family comedy that isn’t an animation, in fact; something involving real people in a real family dynamic is a surprisingly refreshing thing to see on the cinema screen these days. The chemistry between the family members is all good too, making their exchanges believable and more slick. There are some funny moments to be found here too, and some surprising cameos from the likes of Dick Van Dyke, Tammy 1 from Parks and Recreation (playing a different character obviously; that would be horrifying to see in a family movie) and Donald “Childish Gambino” Glover. Though, again, none of them do anything that particularly changes the rulebook on family comedy, it’s still enjoyable to see them and they do their duties reasonably well.

In all, then, AATTHNGVBD isn’t terrible, horrible, not good or very bad at all; but by no means is it absolutely amazing – it’s completely fine, but nothing more. It’s a warm, fuzzy affair which will amuse the young ones as well as the older ones in your family, though I wouldn’t recommend going out of your way to see it otherwise.

Fury, The Judge & The Best of Me – Richards Reckons Review

A tank, a courtroom and a lakeside house in Nicholas Sparks-land. Just some of the many locations I’ve peered into through the cinema screen this week, like a creep outside a window, or like Gomie from Breaking Bad.

Premierely, let’s kick off (no pun intended. Because ‘kick off’ means get angry and fury mea- never mind…) with Fury.

Fury is not just about a film about being jolly well ticked off; no, it is a war film, where quite a lot of the soldiers are somewhat understandably jolly well ticked off. Here’s the plot;  Sergeant Don “Wardaddy” Collier (Brad “Probably-Killed-The-Most-Amount-of-Onscreen-Nazis-In-The-Last-10-Years” Pitt) is in charge of a Sherman tank nicknamed “Fury” (get it? That’s the name of the film!) and its crew, including Boyd “Bible” Swan (Shia “NOT FAMOUS ANYMORE” LaBeouf), Trini “Gordo” Garcia (Michael “Crash” Pena) and Grady “Coon-Ass” Travis (Jon “Shoot You In The Leg In A School Full of Walkers” Bernthal) as they roll through Nazi occupied Germany in 1945. After their gunner gets shot dead, Norman (Logan Lerman), a typist who has no training apart from the ability to type 60 words in a minute, is enlisted. The film follows the tank and its crew as it ploughs through a muddy and wartorn Germany.

Fury is one of those films that is shot and directed in a way that makes you feel like you are there with the characters; that the fourth wall has been blown up by a tank shell, and you’re in there with them. You feel the claustrophobia of tank life (very different to a fish’s tank life); you can almost smell the blood, sweat, grit and mud coming from the environment (reminds me of Glastonbury, in a way). Director David Ayer has done a fantastic job of making the frame and everything in it seem as raw, gritty and murky as the realities of war. The score adds to this in a strange way by at times making the tale seem almost mythical, with operatic singing and grand anthem-like beats. At some point you will almost definitely check for shells, bullet cases and mud on your seat.

Not only that, but you also feel the sense of danger coming across from the screen too. Make no mistake, this is a film that is absolutely brutal; its raw and frankly generous approach to gore and violence strikes a chord with just how much danger these soldiers are in almost constantly. To go along with this savage world, there are also savage characters; every single member of the tank crew at some point shows both sheer aggression and a crippling vulnerability. The performances by these five men are fantastic and three dimensional; rather than some sort of World War II A Team, they are all scared, and cover up their cowardice with a stiff upper lip and aggression. The relationship between Brad Pitt’s Wardaddy and Logan Lerman’s Norman is the centre of the movie and constantly changes. Norman is the closest thing we have to a protagonist and Lerman portrays him brilliantly, progressing from scared and shellshocked about his gradual descent into hell to covering his fear with, well, Fury, funnily enough.

 

When it wants to be, Fury can be incredibly intense, from its gripping beginning in which Norman is introduced to firing from a tank, right down to its fighting-against-all-the-odds climax. If I was to have a criticism of it, however, I would say that there is a definite sag in the middle. There is a sequence in the middle  set in a German house which feels like it goes on for a bit too long and adds little in terms of character development for being that long; it’s a nice touch, but breaks the tension somewhat with a limp, and leaves you wanting them to get back into the tank again.

Fury won’t be for everybody; the brutality of the violence and its characters, along with a strange dichotomy between what seems like ultra realistic and movie-like nature of war, may put people off; but if it’s a tense descent into the hellish landscape of World War II you’re after, look no further.

Next up, my verdit (LOLZ) on legal family drama The Judge.

ORDER! ORDER! *Bangs little gavel thing*. The Judge has been sentenced as a film with a plot, and that plot is this; Defence lawyer Hank Palmer (Robert Downey Jr.) makes a living out of getting slippery bastards out of jail sentences in court rooms in Chicago. One day, while doing just that, he gets a phonecall saying his mother has unfortunately passed away. He goes to the funeral in his old hometown of Carlinville, where he meets his brothers Glen (Vincent D’Onofrio) and Dale (Jeremy Strong), as well as his father Judge Joseph Palmer (Robert Duvall), with whom he has a very bitter relationship. The next day, Judge Palmer is accused of killing a man with his car in the night, which he can’t remember doing and, after some persuasion, it’s up to Hank to defend him.

What I’ve done there with that handy plot summary is include all the plot threads that actually matter, because the main issue with The Judge is that there are far too many going on, slithering through the main tree trunk of the story like vines that don’t go anywhere or get resolved properly. It’s a shame really, as this drags the rest of the film down; worst of all affected by this is Vera Farmiga, who is restricted in a role as an ex-girlfriend of Hank’s who appears now and again to service a romantic subplot that feels extremely unnecessary. She is, however, as brilliant as always, even in this tight role which leaves very little wiggle room. The show is very much the Roberts’ (Downey Jr. and Duvall), as all other characters fade into obscurity in the background, and not really contributing all that much; despite being introduced as if they might.

The Roberts however are both brilliant and utterly watchable together. Their constant bickering with each other and attempting to one-up one another almost constantly in arguments is fascinating to watch, and you’re desperate to find out the history behind it; indeed, so is Hank really. Watching Downey Jr. in a courtroom setting is also great fun, as he is able to play the charismatic lawyer Hank very well (with definite shades of Tony Stark about him; although it is hard to see where Tony Stark ends and Robert Downey Jr begins…). There are indeed some touching and emotion-fuelled scenes between the two of them throughout; a highlight being a very well handled scene where the parent-child relationship is reversed.

However, I felt there was a lack of redemption towards the end of the story between these two characters. It’s a shame as you feel a real lack of closure between them in the end, even though it was building up so well using courtroom scene devices. The reasoning behind the bitterness in their relationship doesn’t really feel strong enough to warrant the aggression within them either, which does not help the feeling of lack of payoff in the climax (come on, grow up).

Overall, there really is a great film in The Judge somewhere; however some trimming of narrative fat, development of characters (and more Billy Bob Thornton too please! Love me some Lorne Malvo) and a better payoff would have helped in spades. It’s a good film, don’t get me wrong; however these aspects really do inhibit it from becoming a great one.

Finally, saving the, er, best til last, comes The Best of Me.

The Best of Me is another movie from the shiny, sunset-tinted white-heterosexuals-falling-in-love world of Nicholas Sparks, which goes a little something like this (stop me if you’ve heard this one before); Dawson (James Marsden and, no, not the one off of the Creek) and Amanda (Michelle Monaghan) fell in love when they were teenagers (when they had the faces of the completely different looking Luke Bracey and Liana Liberato), but due to circumstance drifted apart and worked on an oil rig/got married and had a child (delete where appropriate). 21 years later, they are both summoned back to their hometown after an old friend of theirs dies and, guess what, explore what happened with their relationship (luckily in chronological order so it makes sense for the audience, thanks guys!).

Okay, so I should probably go ahead and say it; The Best of Me is one of the worst films I’ve seen this year. Now, this is not necessarily because it is a romantic drama film from the land of Nicholas Sparks that I am almost definitely not the target audience for; it would be silly of me to dismiss it for that reason. No, there are a plethora of reasons as to why this film is so genuinely, laughably terrible.

 

First of all, it is clichè ridden within an inch of its life. Just think about all the things that are romantic film staples that almost never happen in real life ever; constantly tickling each other, check; knocking at the window in the middle of the night in the pouring rain, check; communicating through written letters, check; defying parents wishes to see each other, check. It also attempts pathos through absolutely pathetic, stock dialogue straight from the “sugary” shelf; an example of this is “how can you ask me to fall in love with you again when I never stopped?!”. Ugh. When it does attempt grit (and, UNBELIEVABLY, it does, through a subplot involving Dawson’s drug dealing biker gang father who looks hilariously like my old landlord), it just feels so stupid, with no threat whatsoever.

But the sugary romance wasn’t truly why I disliked it really; it was mainly because of its absolutely mindblowingly stupid narrative beats that are forced in there in a ludicrous attempt at sentimentality. Not only do these defy logic, but they defy basic storytelling rules AND, in one instance, the laws of physics themselves. These build and build and pile on top on one another like a mass grave of common sense, and are basically there to try to add something more to the admittedly limp and boring story. I’d love to go into a few of these events, but however I can’t due to wanting to avoid a spoiler safari; but needless to say, one “twist” towards the end literally made me, and I do not condone this, whisper “OH F*CK OFF” at the screen in frustration.

Not only all of this, but also the performances aren’t even that good either. Michelle Monaghan and James Marsden don’t even really seem to be trying; James with an understandably constant look of “god why did I agree to this?” on his face as he stumbles through the narrative. Their romance as the adult versions of these characters feels utterly unconvincing too, meaning the building block of the whole film doesn’t really feel stable; prompting even more collapse, like a really shit Jenga block made of sugar and inconsistencies. The teenage co-stars are actually better than the main billed stars, with their relationship feeling less forced and strained. The cinematography is at times beautiful, but, with some very questionable editing choices, that alone is unfortunately nowhere near enough to save this film.

The Best of Me was not aimed at me, of course, but it is frankly incredibly insulting to its target demographic. If you’re a Nicholas Sparks completist, by all means, go for it; but I think you too will feel the way I did. Please avoid this unless you fancy your intelligence being offended.

’71 – Richards Reckons Review

In case you haven’t heard of it, ’71 is not the sequel to a film called ’70, nor a prequel to a film called ’72. It isn’t even the 70th sequel to a film called ’01. Only the Saw movies are really in danger of getting to that level of trigger happy sequelitus.

Nay, ’71 is a standlone British film with a plot, that plot being this; soldier Gary Hook (Jack O’Connell, who played a cook on Skins once, apparently) is deployed into Belfast at the height of the troubles in Northern Ireland in the 1970s. During what’s meant to be a relatively easy mission escorting the police to raid people’s houses, the streets descend into riots, and Gary gets inadvertently left behind while trying to recover a stolen weapon from a child. He’s then chased throughout the Belfast streets by local gang factions who hate soldiers and have taken over; desperate to get back to his barracks.

It’s genuinely quite hard to type up this review because my fingers are so sore. Why are they sore, I hear you cry? Because during the screening of ’71 I was quite literally doing some serious nailbiting. Though it’s set in a period of time that (disturbingly) actually happened, ’71 has a nightmarish quality to it; taking place in an urban hell where Gary is not safe at any time. He is chased almost constantly through this hellscape with only a few reprieves; being chased is a fear that is instilled within us all since we were kids (especially by clowns at 5th birthday parties. Just me?), regardless of the quasi-political/religious reasons for it, and is why ’71 succeeds in being so tense and, at times, scary.

Jack O’Connell brings real gravitas to this central role, playing incredibly tough but simultaneously incredibly confused and scared of his surroundings that he does not understand. It would have been incredibly easy to make Gary Hook into a John McClane style character who is near invincible and incredibly capable in this fish-out-of-water (with less flapping and less suffocation and probably a better smell) situation, but the film steers away from that; he breaks down in tears at once point due to the pressure and is incredibly vulnerable at almost every stage. It adds to the realistic tone and, with the lack of the normal action hero figure, makes you feel more scared for them.

The film feels incredibly raw and unpolished, with shaky cameras adding to the feel of realism and incredibly fast movement, but at the same time has a nightmarish surrealist quality which taps into innate human fears. At times, it can descend into feeling like a horror film/survival horror videogame, with Hook being pursued by almost everybody all the time and having almost nothing to defend himself with.

If I was to have one complaint about the film, it’s that the army corruption subplot involving Captain Browning (Sean Harris, proceeding to be terrifying in every role he’s ever in ever) feels somewhat unnecessary and actually detracts away from the initial fear of Hook himself. It feels a bit like the writers are trying to make a point about the army and the Troubles that does not quite fit with the rest of the film.

Otherwise, ’71 will absolutely make your buttocks and fingers hurt from all the biting and clenching (you can decide which verb matches which noun) for all of its raw, sheer tension and a fantastically disorientated central performance by Jack O’Connell. See while you can.

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Annabelle, The Maze Runner & Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles – Richards Reckons Reviews

What connects a group of mutated martial arts reptiles, a deadly post apocalyptic maze and a haunted demonic doll? Literally nothing; except the fact that today, you’ll find out what Richards Reckoned about ALL OF THEM.

First up, some creepy goings-on with Annabelle.

*Shiver*

So, Annabelle isn’t just your average doll; she’s a doll with a plot. Her plot is this; in the late 1960’s, husband and wife John and Mia (Ward Horton and Annabelle Wallis – heheh, irony…) are expecting a baby. Mia loves dolls, so John buys her a absolutely f*cking hideous beautiful, rare doll she’s been looking for to add to her collection. That night, a couple of Satanists kill the couple next door and then try to kill them (don’t you just hate it when that happens?), with the female Satanist taking a particular liking to said doll; her blood even drops on it after she’s killed herself, and what other sign of affection is stronger than that? After some particularly creepy events at the house, they throw the doll away and move away after the birth of their daughter Lea. But Annabelle the doll turns up yet again, and they decide to keep her for reasons that are absolutely beyond me; it’s then that the paranormal activity ramps up to insane levels, and Mia must find out what the hell is going on (no pun intended).

Annabelle is a prequel spin-off to last year’s The Conjuring, which was very successful in scaring the living daylights out of most people that saw it. I saw The Conjuring with a group of friends of mine sat in a front room; in contrast, I saw Annabelle in a pretty packed out screening in the cinema. Both of these are ideal environments to watch horror films; in particular Annabelle, because observing and laughing at some of the audience’s reactions are more entertaining than the film itself. The collective groan from the audience when we first saw the doll in her apparently beautiful form was laughable; akin to the noise a parent would make after witnessing their toddler disgrace themselves on the floor of an Asda supermarket. The screams and massive overreactions to the 1000 jump scares are also pretty fun too. So, if you were to see this, I would recommend going to a packed out showing to see it.

On the other side of the screen, Annabelle really has not got much going for it. There is nothing unique, new or special about it whatsoever; every single sequence and scare we have all seen before, and done considerably better at that. Like many horror films of late, Annabelle relies purely on the patented “Quiet-Quiet-Quiet-Quiet-Quiet-LOUD NOISE” jumpscare technique and slowly zooming in on the inanimate face of the admittedly creepy doll to frighten people more than anything truly disturbing of memorable. That is, apart from one scene which really gave me the willies (stop laughing) set in a basement with elevator doors; hats off for that sequence as it did weird me out, but everything else is just half a second jolts.

The scenes in between these scares too are boring; populated with flat characters who make really, really stupid decisions (leaving a baby alone on the top floor apartment while you go to the basement when there’s a demon following it about? REALLY, MIA?!) and just spout out tired, recycled dialogue from other films. My cinema-going companion (who shall remain nameless unless he wants to be named) got so bored of the film he (and I do not condone this behaviour) started reading the Wikipedia article of the plot; READING the plot on Wikipedia was more entertaining for him than actually WATCHING it play out. There was what looked like a particularly gruesome, cruel and heartbreaking twist coming towards the end – which the film would have had serious cojones for having – but it backs out of it almost straight away; which stinks of studio interference.

In all, Annabelle is jumpy and at times slightly creepy but almost entirely unoriginal. There are a few well orchestrated jumpscares in there, but with a drab plot, there’s nothing more.

Now for some running around mazes like a frantic Crystal Maze contestant with The Maze Runner.

The Maze Runner needs a plot in order to keep on running, and here is that plot; Thomas (Dylan O’Brien) wakes up in a box rocketing upwards through a shaft. When he gets to the top, he’s surrounded by other young men; he soon finds out he has entered the Glade, an area of woodland where a community of young chaps live. It’s surrounded by a huge maze, the gates of which open and close every night mysteriously. Despite having groups known as “runners” to investigate the maze during the day, the Gladers know nothing about it, except that it’s dangerous due to its population of large cyborg spiders. When a young woman (Kaya Scodelario) comes up through the box one day, everything starts to change…

If the thought of young adults fighting for their lives in a dystopian post-apocalyptic-event style world sounds familiar to you, then congratulations – you’ve been alive for the past few years. Apocalypse seems to be the new black these days when it comes to the cinema, especially focussed around young people; see The Hunger Games, Divergent & The Giver. Soon enough, Topshop will start selling blood stained cravats and slightly dirty, torn jackets if this trend carries on. But yes, it’s one of the flavours of the day, which why this adaptation coming out right about now totally makes sense. But how does it fare in comparison with the others?

Well, The Maze Runner (which is Richard O’Brien’s nickname – kudos if you get that joke) is a welcome addition to this subgenre, but perhaps isn’t the most memorable. There are some good performances here; especially from Will Poulter playing the institutionalised Gally (the closest we come to an in-Glade villain) and Thomas Brodie-Sangster as Newt – both of whom clash when the vacancy of the Glade leader opens up. Several characters are just exposition machines and catalysts; unfortunately, Thomas himself can fit into this category, as well as Kaya Scodelario’s Teresa, who as the only girl in the film really is given nothing to do. The threat of the maze itself and its Griever occupants (which look like a mix between one of Sid’s toys from Toy Story and a rogue animatronic from an arachnid theme park ride) is well presented and woven into the tale nicely with intrigue as well as dread.

The problem with the Maze Runner primarily is the plot and the level of mystery it sets up. Right from the offset you’re thinking “well, this is certainly an interesting set up, I wonder how they got into THIS one” – constantly questioning how or why this is happening, ramping up the intrigue with every single mysterious item uncovered or circumstance altered. Now, I have no problem with this; I do it all the time when I meet people, making myself seem like an international man of mystery, and therefore far more exciting than I already am. The problem comes when these mysteries and questions about the universe in which the film is set are never answered properly nor satisfactorily; coming straight from the Lost school of answering questions with more questions until your audience turns into a bunch of Inspector Morses screaming that they demand answers, damnit!

So overall, The Maze Runner pales in comparison to something like The Hunger Games (with one emotional beat which is almost a carbon copy of something that happens in said Games, except nowhere near as moving), but has enough going for it in its chase sequences and Lord of the Flies-esque set up, and is interesting enough to be worth a watch, if not just to see some rising British stars in action.

And finally, to complete our menage-a-trois (though what an awful thought that is), it’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

So, as you may have guessed, these Turts have a plot under their shell, and here is it; April O’Neil (Megan Fox) is a reporter at Channel 6 news, stuck with doing rubbish throwaway cheerful stories with her cameraman Vern (Will Arnett) when really she wants to research the spate of crime by the villainous “Foot clan” around New York. When she (pretty much purposefully) gets taken hostage by some “foot” soldiers (haha… ha), she is rescued by some mysterious vigilante figures, who she then follows; it turns out they are four six-foot mutated turtles, who are also ninjas and teenagers – Donatello, Michaelangelo, Raphael and Leonardo. The five of them are then caught up with a plot involving the villainous Foot clan trying to release toxins into New York city.

I’ll hold my hand up and admit; my expectation phasers were set to “very low” before I went into this, even though I try to keep an open mind. Firstly, Michael Bay’s name was attached to the project as producer, which considering his recent work with the Transformers franchise (another American childhood favourite), was a bit of a death knell. I also didn’t have the nostalgia factor particularly going for me as my childhood was relatively turtle-free, except for an incident at Colchester Zoo that I’d rather not go into. I went into this movie thinking it was going to be really, really terrible.

But, in fairness, I didn’t think it was terrible. Well, not as terrible as I first presumed anyway; it’s certainly better than any Transformers sequel. It’s not a great, or barely even good movie but to call it outright terrible would be somewhat dismissive of some of its better qualities.

Firstly, its humour can be a bit childish in areas considering it’s a 12A rated film; which is great for kids, as it gave them something to laugh at (and they did, unapologetically), but anybody older than 9 may not find every single joke funny. There are also a couple of jokes particularly to do with objectifying Megan Fox which feel somewhat uncomfortable – but only a couple. It’s almost like that’s in Michael Bay’s contract for every film that she’s in; that she must be demeaned in some way at least once. Otherwise, some of the turtle wisecracks can be worth a small chuckle or two, as well as Will Arnett generally being Will Arnett and therefore being funny, but it is in no way pant-wettingly hilarious for anybody at any age.

Some of the action sequences too are more entertaining than others. Parts feel a bit run of the mill and crafted out of offcuts from other movies, but nevertheless quite fun; although nothing striking or memorable. There’s a hell of a lot of nearly-falling-off-things as well (seriously, count it, it’s mad). Director Jonathan Liebesman also makes the common mistake of confusing incoherence with fast pace; sometimes the action scenes are very disorientating and hard to follow. On the subject of hard to follow, the plot relies almost entirely on coincidence in most areas; including a reworking of the turtles’ origin story to make them closer to protagonist April, which feels entirely unnecessary and a desperate attempt to create another bond between two sets of characters. The villain’s ultimate plot also makes no sense at all, with Silver Samurai  Shredder being about as charismatic as a brick as the main baddie, but considering we’re looking at four giant turtles and a sensei who is a mutated mouse, you can kind of forgive that.

Overall, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is generally not that great, with a “because destiny!” focussed plot and gags that can fall a bit flat. But with some slick VFX and quite relatable turtle heroes, it’s not overtly, offensively terrible either. This is one for families with kids more than the average moviegoer as it struggles to provide something for all the family; just make sure you if you do go, you leave your brain at the door before you observe the cartoonish idiocy.