Inside Out – Richards Reckons Review

When I left the cinema after watching this film, there was a change to normal. I still had my slightly awkward walk and my jacket was still sodden from the grey downpour that had dribbled all over London, so it wasn’t that – but I was wearing sunglasses. “Why oh why were you wearing sunglasses?” I hear you ask in your millions, “They’re an incredibly impractical thing to wear in a still-quite-dark room as it impairs your visibility directly and you look like a bit of a dick” I also hear you somewhat smarmily add. The answer is this; it was to cover my rather puffy eyes.

I had been crying. HARD.

This film made me cry more than any film in the cinema ever has (even harder than when I saw The Best of Me when I realised how much of my life I had wasted watching it). I’m a very masculine man, consistently mistaken for both Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and Ray Winstone (don’t think about the logic of that, just accept it) and while I can be moved by films it takes a lot to make me sob but this did it – a lump materialised in my throat from the first 30 seconds, before it bulldozed the blubgates open with a gut punch to the feels.

In case you’re unsure of what Disney Pixar’s new high-concept movie is, allow me to fill you in; Riley is an 11 year old girl who we follow from her birth, from both outside and inside her head as we witness the inner mechanics of her mind; her “headquarters” are led by her five emotions Joy (Amy Poehler), Sadness (Phyllis Smith), Fear (Bill Hader), Disgust (Mindy Kaling) and Anger (Lewis Black). As her parents relocate her to San Francisco from Minnesota (oh jeez, no Fargo crossover here I’m afraid), Joy and Sadness get lost away from headquarters and chaos reigns in Riley’s head as they try to get back with the help of her old imaginary friend, a candy floss elephant Bing Bong (Richard Kind).

Directed by Pixar wunderkind Pete Docter, Inside Out is stunning in every capacity. The visuals are as gorgeous as you’d expect from Pixar, and more so – the emotions themselves are beautifully rendered with vibrant, active colouring and skin that looks like it’s made of fuzzy felt that make them come alive even more. San Francisco somewhat deliberately looks grey and drab whereas the rest of the palette is reserved for the vistas and landscapes inside Riley’s mind. The headquarters control room has a kooky Enterprise feel to it whereas the rest of the mindscape has character of its own; from the old school Hollywood feel of Dream Productions to the Lego Movie-esque Imagination Land, every location has been thoroughly thought about and beautifully realised on the screen.

The voice acting too is outstanding, especially from Amy Poehler, Phyllis Smith and Richard Kind respectively, quipping their comedic lines with gusto and really powering through with the emotional meat (as much as one can power through meat) when they need to. It’s a very funny film too with concepts and lines reserved especially for adults (the “train of thought” for instance, or the confusion of the “facts” and “opinions” crates being a jab at the Twitter age). But it’s worth noting that the lines, actions and concepts of the film are both so funny and/or heartbreaking not just because of what they are, but what they mean for Riley, and what it’s saying about the very fabric of being human at all. It teaches us that we need to embrace all of our emotions and all of our memories – in fact, the movie makes a whole plot point out of quite why Sadness is needed at all, which is a fair criticism you may have of the film before you wander into the multiplex. The commentary that this film has on human personalities and psychology and even life itself elevates it above any standard animation fare, teaching children and adults alike about depression and about what makes you you. It also provides an explanation as to why songs from adverts get in your head, which is handy because I’ve had the “if you like a lot of chocolate on your biscuit join our Club” song in my head for the past 23 years and now I finally know why (bloody Forgetters).

My only worry is that because it’s so high concept and at times challenging that some kids may get confused about what’s going on or may even not like it. But for everybody else Inside Out is utterly wonderful film that delivers in spades for your funny bones and tear ducts. Bring your sunglasses though – you’ll need them…

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

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.