Fifty Shades of Grey – Richards Reckons Review

Fifty Shades of Grey is a cultural phenomenon. Whether you’ve read the book or not (and whether you can admit that you’ve read it or you’re one of those “oh my FRIEND has read it” people), everybody has heard of it and has at least a general idea what it’s about – girl meets rich man who is into BDSM and other kinky little ventures. It sounds saucy with a dash of “oh blimey” and a pinch of “ooh matron” if you’re that was inclined; a sex and lust fuelled erotic romp that took the world by storm, with women (and indeed some men) proclaiming from the rooftops that they were waiting for “their Mr Grey” because he’s “the perfect man”. So when a film adaptation of this sultry collection of bound tree shavings was announced, the world went mad – some with anticipation, some with dread. But how is the end product?

Just in case you want more of the plot, here it is; the superhero/secret-agent-ish-named Anastasia Steele (Dakota Johnson) is an English Literature student who one day fills in for her sick roommate by going to interview extremely wealthy businessman Christian Grey (Jamie Dornan). After their initial meeting, Grey appears at the hardware store where she works (like a stalkery, well dressed vampire), and arranges a photoshoot and then coffee. After he finds her acceptable, he asks her to sign a contract; the deal being that she is essentially his submissive sexual slave to be bound up and have his way with her whenever she pleases, and in return she gets, in his words (well, word), “him”. And a nice room with big windows. But is that enough, and will Ana find a “normal” relationship within Christian’s grasp?

Before I get to anything else, I’ll say this; for a film all about lust, urges and sexual relations of the kinky kind, Fifty Shades of Grey really quite boring.

It’s dull. It starts out with really hamfisted bantering between the two ladened with innuendo that is as subtle as an aeroplane with a banner saying “THEY ARE GOING TO HAVE SEX IN THIS FILM!!!!!”. There’s a similar approach to metaphoric imagery – Ana with a Christian Grey pencil near her lips and mouth (essentially that aeroplane again saying “IT’S A SUBSTITUTE PENIS!!!”); Ana quite literally getting wet in the rain after seeing Christian for the first time (that aeroplane again saying… well, I don’t really need to explain that). It’s all a bit in your face, really, preluding what’s to come. When they do come, the sex scenes are few and far between, and when they’re there they lack impact; they’re actually ironically quite constrained, as if THEY’VE been bound and gagged too. All the action seems to happen in the peripheral vision of the camera, and while it’s cut nicely it’s not exactly… exciting, really. I also find it bizarre that the film so liberally shows female nudity but not male – it’s peenophobic, if you will. That’s usually the case but with a film about such sexual freedom it seems so contradictory and bizarre. So if you’re looking for fun or gratification from those scenes, then you won’t find it.

Secondly, there’s little to no chemistry at all between the two leads. Ana seems to do this weird and annoying thing I’ve rarely come across in real life where if Christian Grey blinks or exhales carbon dioxide towards her she seems to automatically bite her lip and have a small sensual reaction to it akin to a When Harry Met Sally scene; maybe either 1) she’s actually got some sort of hyper-orgasmic allergic reaction to his musk or 2) the writers are trying to use it as some sort of shortcut to electricity between them, which doesn’t work. Dakota Johnson, coincidentally, is the best thing about the film – bringing a lot of vulnerability as well as power to the main role.

She doesn’t have a lot to work with here either, with the dialogue being so unbelievably poor that I sighed at a lot of lines. This is almost definitely due to the original author, EL James, being present on set and vetoing any kind of diversion away from the (legendarily poorly written) source material. There are a couple of lines that get laughs that you can just tell are additions because they add spark. When Jamie Dornan is forced to say things like “I don’t make love. I f*ck… hard”, “laters baby” and “I’m fifty shades of f*cked up” (get it? It’s ALMOST the movie title!) it gets giggles more than swoons because of just how badly worded it is, bordering on parody. It doesn’t help either that Jamie Dornan doesn’t really seem like he’s trying with Christian at all – he has money, sure, and is into BDSM (Grey that is, not Dornan, I don’t know him that well), but he has little to no personality whatsoever as Christian Grey.

Which finally brings me to perhaps my biggest problem with the film; Christian Grey himself. He’s a big part of the film, what with his name being in the ruddy title and all. He’s presented as this loveable dreamboat of a man who has it all; money, looks, a nice body (if that’s what you’re into)… more money. But he lacks a personality – and, more than that, his behaviour is absolutely abhorrent. He’s a possessive stalker who just “turns up” where Ana is (whether it’s her workplace, a nightclub, HER HOME or in ANOTHER STATE) as if he’s apparated there (probably from Knockturn Alley) without her consent and often demands sex from her; he physically fights off any other male who even talks to her; he, through the contract, restrains her from her own free will – not letting her drink or eat or go where she wants without his permission. And all of this is presented as if it’s like a charming quirk and part of the BDSM – which it is NOT, at all. It makes his behaviour seem acceptable rather than what it is; creepy, horrifying and abusive.

In summary (or TLDR as the kids say), while it looks good (props to director Sam Taylor-Johnson for trying her hardest from the source material) and nicely monochromatic and has an admittedly very good soundtrack (Beyonce and Haim’s turns are particularly good), Fifty Shades of Grey is a dull and often creepy piece of work featuring two main characters who have no chemistry and varying levels of quality in their performances (Johnson good, Dornan not so). You get the feeling that this is the best they could have gotten without rewriting the dialogue from the source (which they would have done if it weren’t for EL James), but it’s still not enough to leave the target audience or myself satisfied.

Mortdecai – Richards Reckons Review

Charlie Mortdecai (Johnny Depp) is a character that will be studied for a long, long time. His every move, however minimal, will the analysed; from the way he delivers the dialogue, to even the way he breathes and traverses the space around him. Every machination to his existence will be under the microscope. Why, I hear you ask?

Because Charlie Mortdecai is the definition of anti-comedy.

Everything he does is so disastrously unfunny that it’s actually, in a way, fascinating. His character has absolutely no redeeming qualities of any kind and is essentially skin deep; he is nothing but a moustache and a horrendously over-boiled accent that grates on you more than a, er, cheese grater. He’s also so zany and so off the wall that it becomes irritating – a quality that Johnny Depp was remarkably good at fails miserably here, to the point that you wish the hitmen in the opening scene had actually followed through with their threat to save the rest of the movie from ever happening.

Anyway, the rest of it – Mortdecai tells the story of Charlie Mortdecai, an English arts dealer who does a bit of black market naughtiness as and when it suits him. He is married to Joanna (Gwyneth Paltrow), who gags at his moustache and is mostly there for that sole purpose, and as a quasi-love interest. A woman is restoring a painting but gets shot while doing so, and Inspector Martland (Ewan McGregor) wants to know why – he enlists the help of Mortdecai and his manservant Jock Strapp (Paul Bettany) to track the painting down. There’s also some stuff about Russian gangsters that crops up occasionally too. That’s about it, really – the rest of it is just excuses for Mortdecai to turn up somewhere, dick about and then leave again.

It’s very rare that I see a film and not laugh once, but this makes an exception. Through its writing that is trying to hard to pick up an “ooh matron!” vibe, it tries so so hard but the jokes and innuendo (which normally I find quite amusing) just fall to the floor like a sack of unfunny potatoes. It wasn’t just me either – the screen I was in was half full (feeling optimistic, clearly) and I think there would have been more laughs if we were just shown a live feed of a drain for 90 minutes. Johnny Depp is by far the worse offender here, but the others too just aren’t funny at all – which it pains me to say as I actually quite like all the actors in it, ordinarily.

Mortdecai ultimately is a black hole of comedy, joy and entertainment. It sucks it all out of you like a big Dementor’s kiss from the screen and leaves you desperate for it to be over so you can leave and forget any of it ever happened – and I’m sure that everybody involved with the movie feels exactly the same way…

Whiplash, Ex Machina, American Sniper & Wild – Richards Reckons Reviews

A drummer, a robot, a sniper and, er, Reese Witherspoon. It’s like a dream A-Team lineup. But it is not a dream A-Team lineup; nay, it is a Richards Reckons post. Let the reckoning commence!

Let’s start with Whiplash.

No no, not that one, THIS one.

Whiplash tells the tale of Andrew Neiman (Miles “Bank” Teller), a young up and coming jazz drummer studying at (the rather confusingly named) Shaffer Conservatory; the best music school in the US. He doesn’t have any friends and is utterly dedicated to (and isolated by) his desire to become “one of the greats”, like his idols Buddy Rich or Charlie Parker. He gets noticed by Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), an esteemed conductor at Shaffer who has his own core band. Andrew gets invited into the group, but quickly discovers Fletcher’s tyrannical, almost sadistic method of pushing his students, and proceeds to be treated horrendously by Fletcher. But will his methods push him to greatness, or over the edge?

The film is an Oscar contender, and it’s not hard to see why. Even though it’s dancing around the subject of music, Whiplash is more tense, exhilarating and electrifying than most action thriller films based around violence. This is a movie that contains blood, sweat and tears in its very bones; mainly from Miles, admittedly, but all three trickle through the film like blood in its veins (its veins and its bones… wait, this metaphor/simile combo has confused even me). Its tense and utterly gripping feel is down to its basic question; how far should you push somebody in order to achieve greatness? It’s a question that is framed by music here but is applicable throughout most endeavours, and that’s why it resonates so highly with everybody who witnesses it.

While Miles Teller plays Neiman very well as a cagey, defensive and determined prodigy whose aggression and determination mounts over the course of the film, this is really J.K. Simmons’ show. Every single movement he makes as Fletcher, whether it’s folding his arms or grabbing the air to indicate he wants silence, is utterly mesmerizing – he electrifies the screen whenever he is on it, in a terrifying way. When he gets, as the kids say, right up in Neiman’s ‘bidness’, it’s as scary for us as it is for him – his booming voice and craggy face dominating and commanding the frame. For all his fiery anger, when Fletcher needs to show some kind of sadness Simmons shows real depth without giving the facade away. If that supporting actor Oscar isn’t his, then the Oscars should be branded a joke (especially in conjunction with The LEGO Movie debacle – it still angers me, even now. I may need to have a lie down).

Damien Chazelle directs the film magnificently, creating the perfect marriage between thunderous sound and vision; it’s also incredibly well edited, especially at the film’s thrilling crescendo; it feels like there’s a cut at every snare hit, and not in a disorientating way. Whiplash is a chair-throwing, hand-bleeding, sweat-leaking force of nature to be reckoned with, and you’ll never see another film quite like it. It’s genuinely brilliant.

From E-notes to E-lectronics now (sorry), it’s time for Ex Machina.

Ex Machina is a science fiction film following Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson), a young programmer who works for the largest search engine in the world, ‘Bluebook’. He wins a lottery in his workplace to go and meet his mysterious CEO employer Nathan (Oscar Isaac) in his very, very remote island home. But after signing a document which forbids him from ever speaking about what he is going to see while he is there, Caleb catches on that something bigger is perhaps happening here; and that’s when he meets Ava (Alicia Vikander), a walking, talking new kind of AI. Nathan wants Caleb to find out whether or not this new form of AI has its own consciousness or not – leading to a particularly sinister series of events.

This is Alex Garland’s directorial debut after writing screenplays and novels, including for Danny Boyle features 28 Days Later, The Beach & Sunshine. There’s certainly a Boyle flavour to this film; it’s very stylish and focussed on character, but still retains a high concept while being clever about it. It’s a small film primarily with three people set in one location – at times, it almost plays like a play. While it perhaps isn’t an action packed science fiction adventure, it is never boring – there are lots of deep, philosophical conversations going on about life itself and what makes someone, or something, alive, and the moral implications of that.

Isaac plays his strange hideaway genius with a glazed look in his eye and a strange rock’n’roll swagger like a mix between a rockstar and Mark Zuckerberg; Gleeson shows the genius of his character sparingly while retaining the warmth he is known for; Vikander plays her android Ava surprisingly quite fluidly (in comparison to the normal “I am a robot” impression some others do), with a strange level of curiosity and seduction – indeed, she looks bizarrely beautiful thanks to the impeccable CG work on her body. The three main (and pretty much only) players perform their roles with gusto, adding credibility to the admittedly high concept. The slick writing does this too, with surprisingly funny riffs on modern computer culture and its capabilities, as well as a couple of “oh well I did [this clever thing] BEFORE you did [this clever thing]” twists in there for good measure.

Ex Machina is a clever, brainy slice of science fiction that’s elevated by a clever script and some good performances from some of Hollywood’s rising stars. If you like your sci-fi and brainy debates about artificial intelligence then seek it out; it’s soon to be a cult classic.

Next up, American Sniper.

American Sniper, stay away from mee-heeeeee. It’s unfortunately not an adaptation of the song American Woman by The Guess Who, but instead it follows the true life story of the deadliest marksman in US military history – Chris Kyle, played by Bradley “Rocket Raccoon” Cooper. It follows some of his life from when he was a young boy up until his adulthood when he decides to join the military, and is subsequently deployed to Iraq after the 9/11 attacks. It follows his relationship with his wife (Sienna Miller) as well as his subsequent four tours of Iraq and his various firefights with Iraqi insurgents and the Taliban.

The film is directed by Clint Eastwood, after originally being optioned by Steven Spielberg. The film and its team surrounding it have been nominated for Oscars including Best Picture, Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Editing and Best Actor…

And I have absolutely no idea why.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not a bad film. It’s for the most part a well shot, well orchestrated war movie. I just don’t feel it’s anywhere near special enough to warrant so many accolades; it feels incredibly generic, in some respects. It’s also (and judging by the internet I don’t think this was just me) uncomfortably jingoistic and patriotic at times – to the point that I was surprised he wasn’t given Captain America’s shield. The characters in the film gleefully describe all Iraqi people as “savages”; in some respects at times it genuinely feels like an extremely old fashioned Western film in which the entire Iraqi people (not just the Taliban insurgents) are in place of the “Indians”. It’s interesting that Spielberg was going to focus on the Iraqi people’s point of view as it could have perhaps avoided this issue altogether.

That said, there are some thrilling aspects to the film, including the tension from the trailer and the mile-long shot towards the climax of the film. It perhaps does not focus on Kyle’s PTSD/addiction to war as much as it could have (including some relationship ultimatums that are made and then broken), or indeed should have to humanise him a bit more. Bradley Cooper does the best that he can in the role, playing it very understated with a low Texan drawl, but there are not any glimpses of his trademark charisma – this is because he is portraying a real life person, perhaps, and wished to remain respectful, but even so. It also has the most fake baby in the history of cinema.

As I said, American Sniper is not a bad film. It has some areas of tension that most action films would beg for. The problem is that at times it feels a bit too bland to be deserving all the praise that is layered upon it. Eastwood doesn’t bring anything that is distinctly his to the table here, either – it feels like it could have been directed by anybody. Apparently it has been heralded in America and it’s not hard to see why as it’s so ardent in its patriotism – but for everywhere else, it may be a tough swallow.

Finally, let’s get Wild.

Wild tells the real life story of Cheryl Strayed (Reese “She Eats” Witherspoon) who hikes the Pacific Crest Trail (1000+ miles) as her way of dealing with the death of her mother (Laura Dern), as well as years of destructive behaviour. She reflects on her life as she comes across other ramblers and through the trials and tribulations of rambling alone.

Wild is told in a surprisingly avant garde way – though it follows the linear narrative of Cheryl’s walkabout, we jump in and out of parts of her life in a very ethereal way like we’re galloping through a time portal, following her own mindset as she walks on her own. We have touching memories with her mother, her ex-boyfriend and her troubles with drug addiction all coming to her in waves as she makes this massive trek, making us feel like we are inside her head; and what a place it is to be. Reese Witherspoon’s performance is amazingly raw yet defined here; she’s in almost every single frame, so the whole film rides on her essentially. She plays Strayed with strength and occasional vulnerability through physicality; she feels like a flawed inspirational figure the whole way through the film.

Some may feel it is long, but it’s a story about reflecting upon yourself through long periods of time, so it’s almost allowed that. With its non-traditional narrative stylings and flourishes, Wild won’t be for everybody, but people will relish the cinematography and stunning central performances by Reese Witherspoon and the graciously strong Laura Dern, leading to moving moments of triumph on her journey.

No fake baby though…

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.

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”.

New look and new Facebook page!

I’m sure you can see the wonderful new image up the top there, but if not; look at that new image at the top up there! Lovely.

If you’ve been enjoying any of the reviews please give the page a like and show your support – plus you’ll get some exclusive content!*

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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.