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”.
Richards Reckons 