LFF 2011: Wuthering Heights***

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Posted: 09/11/2011

Those expecting the delicate etiquette and burning passionate of Emily Brontë’s infamous 1847 doomed love affair, Wuthering Heights, set on the Yorkshire Moors, may find award-winning Fish Tank director Andrea Arnold’s film version a little rougher round the edges, but equally dramatic. Rather than the fluffy period drama brought to many screens over the years, Arnold who is known to be a very instinctive film-maker, aims for the dark heart of the novel’s depiction of mental and physical cruelty.

A poor, young black boy called Heathcliff (Solomon Glave) is discovered on the streets of Liverpool by Mr Earnshaw (Paul Hilton), a farmer, and taken back to Yorkshire to live on the family farm on the Moors, Wuthering Heights. Heathcliff grows up with the farmer’s spirited daughter, Cathy (Shannon Beer), who he soon develops an intense relationship with – much to the dislike of Cathy’s jealous older brother who sees Earnshaw Sr. favouring his black foster brother. Years later, long after the farmer’s death, and Cathy’s (Kaya Scodelario) subsequent marriage to wealthy aristocrat Edgar Linton (James Northcote), a spurned Heathcliff (James Howson) returns to Wuthering Heights a rich and successful man. But can he ever capture the heart of his one true love again…

Arnold gives a wildly refreshing revival of an old classic with a raw and poignant twist that makes a little more sense to a contemporary audience. She changes her Heathcliff from a gypsy boy to a black boy, and perhaps, swaps one form of prejudice for another. But rather than her actors – many of whom give commendable debut performances in this, expect professionals Scodelario and Northcote, it is the film’s style itself that will be remember and that fuels the emotion, with limited words spoken for full effect.

Lacking in script, as if to focus our attention completely on what is being shown in the 4:3 window, there is an organic and interactive feel to the cinematography by Venice Film Festival-winner, DoP Robbie Ryan, where the images speak far louder than any words ever could: You actually feel as if you are subjected to nature’s whim, submerged in the cruel environment, along with the actors like an ambiguous third-party eye, feeling the wind and cold whipping around you and the rain pummelling your being. Even getting out of the cold and into the gloomy interiors of Wuthering Heights feels like being projected back in time to that era, and what it might have been like with only firelight to see the long nights out. Arnold’s vision is a stark, breathtaking and purely physical one, full of lurking danger and untold cruelty that has to be experienced to be believed.

This interactive adventure is almost timeless in feel, but it does mask some of the film’s wooden acting – there are no characters in this film that quite capture the struggle or determination of, say, Fish Tank’s feisty lead Mia (played by then newcomer Katie Jarvis). Each participant in this period drama feels as though they are on a fatalistic, narcissistic journey, making them difficult to relate to, and with not enough satisfactory chemistry between the older Heathcliff and Cathy to really warrant so much self-angst and suffering, we are left watching a bunch of characters seemingly getting their emotions off their chests. The only character who truly wins any empathy through the cruel actions of others is Isabella (Nichola Burley), Linton’s lovelorn sister, who falls hard for and marries Heathcliff, but receives no real love in return.

Although not art-house as such, it is as though Arnold’s primary concern – which feels as cold and calculating as her extraordinary offering – is with the film-making process here, and not with her talent who are as much part of the frame as the wildlife we see. Nature is her only true star in this.

3/5 stars

By @FilmGazer

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Jack Goes Boating****

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Posted: 06/11/2011

Having excelled in all acting roles he has ever taken on, it is only fitting that Philip Seymour Hoffman should move behind the camera to continue his monopoly of the film industry. Thankfully, he also co-stars in his directorial debut, Jack Goes Boating, so as not to deprive us of his great talent.

Hoffman plays limo driver Jack, a man with a small social circle who feels uncomfortable in his own skin. His best friend and work colleague, Clyde (John Ortiz), gets his wife, Lucy (Daphne Rubin-Vega), to set Jack up on a blind date with her equally shy and accident-prone work colleague, Connie (Amy Ryan). The fledgling pair plans to go boating when the weather gets warmer. But what first ensues is a tale of love, betrayal, friendship and grace, all set in working-class New York City.

As intrepid as its socially encumbered couples, Seymour Hoffman’s directorial debut, Jack Goes Boating, shakes up all the niggling anxieties of first-time dating and long-term partnership in one tiny microcosm of NYC life and delivers a droll but sensitive character piece with a wholehearted punch.

Its momentum is slow-paced to allow its socially inept but obsessive-compulsive lead, Jack, the time to adjust to the big changes foisted on his daily existence and to come to terms with them at his own speed. These brooding moments are punctuated by bolts-out-of-the-blue, actions so sudden they make you jump, like mini electric shocks signalling a wake-up call – it’s just not certain whether they are meant solely for those on screen, or to keep us alert as to where we are in the story and Jack’s mindset.

What is fascinating to witness – in addition to Seymour Hoffman in dreads, as Jack loves reggae and no other reason – is as one party strives to belong, socially, and improve for each other, the energy injected into making this happen by the other pair tears away at the flimsy scaffolding holding up Clyde and Lucy’s marriage façade, which makes the humorous moments more bitter than sweet and quite unexpectedly involving.

Seymour Hoffman and Ryan – in an almost unrecognisable part from her usual assertive roles ­– do not fail to deliver. However, those familiar with Terry Gilliam’s hit 1991 love story, The Fisher King, will no doubt spot the obvious comparisons with social outcasts Parry (Robin Williams) and Lydia (Amanda Plummer) who are coaxed back into civilised society, only to flourish with the power of love and hope. Seymour Hoffman and Ryan’s portrayal, although touchingly funny and quaint, feels like a déjà vu moment from that memorable film, to be honest.

Seymour Hoffman’s ‘Fisher King’, however, is far more edgy and risqué than fantastical, with some clumsy sexual explorative scenes between the new couple. It also has the wonderful one-on-one bromance moments between Jack and Clyde – with Ortiz as Clyde like the jovial shining beacon of hope that is gradually flickering out, but stays focused on Jack like a school project to keep his thoughts and feelings at bay. Within the swimming scenes, for example, the director also plays with a variety of angles and points-of-view, which keep the status quo refreshing, visually.

As directorial debuts go, Seymour Hoffman sticks to a narrow window on life, and one with a simple plot of human nature and action-reaction guiding the way. His odd choice of attire simply adds a little eccentricity to proceedings, but does nothing to enhance the character’s persona. It could be argued that Seymour Hoffman wants to ensure unconventionality prevails, lest we are left with discovering something less intriguing. More importantly, as the story touches on believing in someone, we want to do the same.

4/5 stars

By @FilmGazer

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**WATCH THE TRAILER HERE**

 

LFF 2011: Junkhearts***

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Posted: 06/11/2011

Tinge Krishnan’s debut British feature was the toast of this year’s London Film Festival, with newcomer Candese Reid winning ‘Best British Newcomer’ for her portrayal of rougher sleeper Lynette. Junkhearts is a prime example of British independent filmmaking in grim motion, unsurprisingly falling into the gloomy, socio-political drama category that is so often prevalent at Festival time.

Former soldier Frank (Eddie Marsan) spends his days reliving the horrors he witnessed in Northern Ireland, when not walking to and from the local off licence near his east London estate to restock on booze and fags. On one such visit, he comes across black teenager Lynette (Reid) on the street outside, and although frosty at first, theirs is an unlikely companionship, almost father-daughter relationship that grows as Frank tries to help Lynette gain the confidence to rebuild her life. Unbeknown to him, her presence is less that honest and is about to make his haunted world worse than it already is. Meanwhile, in more affluent surroundings, struggling businesswoman and single mother Christine (Romola Garai) turns to drugs to cope with all the pressures of bringing up a child alone.

While designed to once more unearth the ugliest of human nature and its self-destructive quality and the grimness of London’s sink estates, Junkhearts could be a reproduction of any urban sprawl’s social ills. The two worlds of Frank and Christine seem totally unrelated, but there is one unifying theme of loneliness, an inner fear that transcends generations and class barriers. The trouble is, much as Krishnan’s dark tale needs to portray Frank’s world spiralling out of control, without any chop-and-change of scenery – so that we witness rock bottom for the healing process to kick in, any major impact the final scene might have is rendered quite unremarkable, as it takes so long to connect the relationship dots. It almost feels alien, like another film ending bolted on, or worse, as though a lot of this part’s development is still lying on the cutting-room floor.

Junkhearts strengths are not its originality but – like many kitchen sink dramas – its actors who are presented with a chance to explore all depths of the human soul within its social reality. Marsan is naturally enthralling as tortured Frank, helped by Catherine Derry’s claustrophobic close-ups – the only question is one of continuity of Frank’s skin condition that seems to change from one scene to the next.

There is a nice twist when Frank first opens his front door to Lynette, as little is known about either, but what is known suggests Frank is less trustworthy, and Krishnan toys with us here. Even with the charitable moment of allowing Lynette to stay in his long-absent daughter’s bedroom, there is an edgy and threatening sense to the cinematography that adds a putrid yellow tinge to Frank’s living room environment to visually signify a malaise and untapped imminent danger ahead. Krishnan keeps this location as unsettled as her characters’ moods, moving from homely to foreign from one minute to the next.

Reid’s Lynette seems effortless played. Reid does well to swing her emotions between bitterness and hope that allows her to believably depict Lynette’s struggle with what she really wants out of life. But it is her turn opposite the controlling and manipulative drug dealer Danny, brilliantly played by Tom Sturridge that allows both actors the opportunity to showcase their impressive talents. Although typical, Sturridge’s drug dealer is atypical, in terms of appearance and maturity, making him imminently more menacing and unpredictable, as well as serving as a knife-twisting aid in rekindling Frank’s deepest, darkest military nightmares. Garai is as expected, a vision of captivating beauty, however as Christine, more haunted and terrified at everyday-life than we are used to seeing her as self-assured Bel in The Hour. Garai is wasted in this film’s role, though, as her character snippets serve merely to make the flimsy end connection, rather than a vast difference.

Junkhearts is aptly named as the characters purge their tickers in their quest for redemption. Expect another bleak tale of inner-city hardship and self pity to begin with; this ultimately triggers the good ol’ Blighty survival switch and manages to allow traces of ironic humour to punch through. Krishnan’s first feature is a commendable start.

3/5 stars

By @FilmGazer

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**WATCH THE TRAILER HERE**

LFF 2011: Oslo, August 31st ***

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Posted: 06/11/2011

Danish filmmaker Joachim Trier had the ominous task of bringing his second feature into the Festival arena this year, after 2006’s lauded debut Reprise. Like his first film, Trier seems to be carving out an early filmmaking pattern of producing strikingly realistic character studies, full of passion and human nature analysis. He again turns to one of his two leads of his first film, Anders Danielsen Lie, to help paint a moving picture of one person’s view of modern-day Scandinavian life – Danielsen Lie’s hometown of Oslo, and hence the title. While not a film for the dispirited – though such a mindset may better empathise with Anders’ soul-searching journey – it does have a peculiar honesty to it.

Loosely based on fascist Pierre Drieu La Rochelle’s novel, Le feu follet, about the last days of an alcoholic who commits suicide, inspired by the death of Drieu’s friend, the surrealist poet Jacques Rigaut, Oslo, August 31st offers a similar premise. It follows a day in the life of Anders (Danielsen Lie), a young and once-gifted writer who is now a recovering drug addict in his thirties. After witnessing him calmly trying to take his own life by drowning in a lake, Anders takes a day pass to the capital, Oslo, to attend a job interview for a magazine writer position. Anders also uses the time to visit old friends, old haunts and assess where his life stands while pining for his ex who lives in New York.

The theme of the ‘tormented creative’ from the previous film is evident again in this. Trier suggests such a sensitive soul seeks a deeper perspective on existence, and is analytical to a fault, rather than just letting some of life’s mundane pass Anders by. In a way, we admire Anders for being so bold in tackling the ugliness in his heart, in trying to figure out where he may be going wrong in a city he presumably loves – as the loving monologue about Oslo spoken over old film of the Norwegian capital depicts at the start.

At the same time, there is a certain frustration with some of the characters’ responses to Anders’ inner scrutiny, which is part of the problem with what exactly this film is trying to say; there are no resolutions, other than the tragic, to begin answering some of life’s questions. There is an overwhelming sense of numbness at the end, and not just as a result of the conclusion, but a real sense of melancholy that not one of the seemingly affluent, middle-class people Anders visits has anything constructive to offer, or any glimmer of hope they are satisfied with their lot, however imperfect it may be at times.

To some, this may render Anders’ poignant pilgrimage and Trier’s latest piece quite pointless and cloaked in despair to be anything but a conceited acting-directing exercise. To others, this self-reflection shows great courage and strength of character, more so than Anders’ nearest and dearest in the film who seem to be hiding behind and clinging onto humdrum conventionality for fear of experiencing a vacuum. It is this intriguing stance from within of an apparently comfortable Scandinavian lifestyle, which some of us secretly covet, that always makes such films so utterly fascinating.

The other universal point that Trier seems to be making in Oslo, August 31st is the growing fear of starting life over again, late into adulthood, which is especially topical with global austerity at the moment. However, there is little to appease us in this respect in the film. It is as it is: quite terrifying, with no one to rescue the situation. This lack of spiritual restoration is what shocks the most after watching Oslo, not Anders’ actions.

Trier directs another contestable film that will spark debate, but that showcases Danielsen Lie’s emerging talents once more in a luminous fashion. It’s just a shame there are not more positives to be taken away from Oslo, merely a heavy heart.

3/5 stars

By @FilmGazer

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**WATCH THE TRAILER HERE**

 

Straw Dogs ***

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Posted: 01/11/2011

The British 1971 original by Sam Peckinpah both appalled and enthralled an unsuspecting audience, like an unwanted mirror held up to reflect some of the most primitive and raw human nature ever captured on screen when the chips are down. There was a distinct difference between the act of rape as one of empowerment, as opposed to sexual. Flash forward 40 years and set in the Deep South of the USA, the main characters are all the same – even the film’s poster image, with writer-director Rod Lurie’s 2011 version merely updating the setting and fashions but sticking close to the original script.

David and Amy Sumner (James Marsden and Kate Bosworth), a Hollywood screenwriter and his actress wife, return to her small hometown in the Deep South to prepare the family home for sale after her father’s death. Once there, tensions build in their marriage and old conflicts re-emerge with the locals, including Amy’s ex-boyfriend Charlie (Alexander Skarsgård), leading to a violent confrontation.

The ‘town verses country’ contradiction has always been fertile ground for such horror movies, even spurning the remake of another all-time classic shocker last year, I Spit On Your Grave that also involves deeply disturbing rape scenes. However, in the latest Straw Dogs, there is just one graphic scene and it’s edited to minimise any upset. This may spare some people’s sensitivities, but it seems to work against its favour and blunt any impact. By almost diluting what unfolds, Lurie does not give us enough information to gauge our disgust – even if he sticks to the ‘she’s-asking-for-it’ misogyny of the original film, with Amy undressing at the window as a symbol of her sexual confidence as the men work on the barn roof.

The other spoiler for many True Blood fans is the striking presence and rough handling by Swede actor Skarsgård as Amy’s redneck former beau Charlie. After the confrontational vampire scenes in the TV series, our ‘fear’ of Skarsgård as Charlie’s stalking and subsequent abuse of Amy is somewhat diffused in this: When we should be appalled by the act, there is a disturbing titillation at play that excites rather than sickens, even with Amy’s first uttering of the word “no” that should suffice. It could be argued that this is the quandary the film poses – rape after all usually happens between two people who know each other, but it does nothing to shame us, or appease the tireless work of some victims’ charities. The fact is Skarsgård taps into his alluring trademark calm and restrained persona – with a few gratuitous torso shots to boot, making us throw all caution to the wind. Is this smart casting by Lurie to really test our resolve, or miscasting, as Lurie’s Charlie does not quite fit the fiend he should be?

In fact, the most shocking act of aggression in the 2011 film is that carried out by James Woods’ character Tom Heddon – known as ‘Coach’ in this that allows us to appreciate American’s obsession with success and football prowess, and capture the impression of those has-beens cast aside, such as Charlie and his boys, who are still in awe of him. Woods as Heddon is the same character trying to get at the Niles boy in the new film, but he is more unpredictable and threatening than his British counterpart, Peter Vaughan, was back in 1971, and often steals the scenes with all involved.

Marsden and Bosworth have the same believable chemistry as Hoffman and George did in the original, with both adding that contemporary arrogance and resolute independence that present-day audiences can relate to – down to the question of the purpose of religion. Marsden stands out in a more serious, adult role this time than his usual family-friendly affair. But his childishness suits David’s carefree spirit in this, making it one of his best performances to date.

As close to the original as Lurie’s well-made remake is, there remains a sizeable question mark over why Straw Dogs was revisited at all. Purely to make the 1971 film’s ideas accessible to a 2011 audience seems a flimsy excuse, and it merely perpetuates a dangerously caviller and sexist attitude in contemporary cinema. Perhaps it’s up to the maturity of the audience watching to decide, but that is both the solution and the risk of such a controversial subject matter.

3/5 stars

By @FilmGazer

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**WATCH THE TRAILER HERE

 

 

Tower Heist ***

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Posted: 01/11/2011

Looking for a no-brainer to delight you while you munch on some deserved popcorn at the end of a long week? Director Brett Ratner may have come up with one of his best movies since Rush Hour (the original) yet – and there is no sign of Don Cheadle, Chris Tucker, Jackie Chan or Ken Leung either. Tower Heist offers one of the most exciting assortments of comedic acting talent at play in a long time in this tongue-in-cheek, cheap Ocean’s imitation that has elements of the ridiculous to it and touches on topical, economic current affairs while providing some golden nuggets of entertainment.

Josh Kovacs (Ben Stiller) is great at his job, managing the staff at a luxury Central Park condominium and gaining the trust and friendship of its super wealthy elite. However, after the FBI get involved (Téa Leoni as Special Agent Claire Denham), it’s soon apparent that the penthouse billionaire, Arthur Shaw (Alan Alda), is not who he seems, and has stolen Kovacs’ staff’s retirement funds he was entrusted to invest on Wall Street with promises of big returns. After getting fired, Kovacs recruits a gang of disgruntled tower workers (Casey Affleck, Michael Peña, Gabourey Sidibe etc) and a ruined banker and former resident (Matthew Broderick) to plot the ultimate revenge: a heist to reclaim what the billionaire took from them. But they are going to need some outside help from the likes of alleged ‘criminal mastermind’ Slide (Eddie Murphy).

The reason this works from the word go is nice-guy Stiller’s winning formula of sarcasm and empathy with the worker-bee character he portrays. It avoids being slapstick, with Ratner introducing a respect for the characters and giving a brief but deciding glimpse of their personalities while Kovacs does the rounds – almost like watching the first episode of a TV soap set in Trump Tower. With the groundwork set, and the position of each character established, when the penny drops and the class divide opens up, the effect is deeper felt that you would expect in such a comedy drama. This is accentuated by any subjective economic hardship the viewer might be feeling in today’s climate, gaining our backing for the heist at hand; after all, bringing down a fictitious banker with a crass dollar bill motif in his private penthouse pool is as good as it’s going to get at present.

The combination of Stiller, Affleck, Broderick and Peña is fascinating enough, but it’s not until Murphy arrives on the thieving scene that the film ups in thrill factor. Admittedly, Murphy seems to resort to stereotype, playing the hard-done-by ghetto dude, a close imitation to his brilliant Trading Places character – all mouth and devious action. With Stiller at the helm, it’s an exciting coupling of two great comedy minds that seem to compliment rather than cancel out each other on screen. That’s not to say that Ratner doesn’t get sloppy and resort to stereotypes, but it’s almost as though he encourages his comic talent to play parodies of their previous roles, with Sidibe the most clichéd of the lot in a big-hearted, opinionated role someone like Queen Latifah may have once considered.

The utter farcical moments come in the action-packed second half that include the movement of a vintage car from the penthouse to a convenient resting place with some gravity defying stunts and elevator moments, designed to enjoy Stiller, Murphy and Broderick at their out-of-control best. This is when Ratner’s trademark nuttiness shines through, although it’s all harmless fun as the bigger goal behind it all far outweighs the logic in what you are watching.

Leoni as Special Agent Denham is the down-to-earth, no-nonsense character to compare the others’ flourishing delirium against, and thankfully stays as tough and appealing a cookie as any bad boy would want to be severely reprimanded by. Matching Kovacs in sharp wit, Denham also provides a few giggles of her own that keep things hugely satisfying.

Ratner’s film is a lively comedy caper with very real personalities to reflect recession-hit times. He has one hell of a great cast to deliver these sentiments, too, making Tower Heist a surprise hit full of more than trifling comic turns, but turning out to be one full of heart and wounded soul. It’s a story you can really get behind without much investment, however flawed or foolhardy, to see a comeuppance dished out to a new global pariah.

3/5 stars

By @FilmGazer

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Machine Gun Preacher ***

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Posted: 01/11/2011

You’d be forgiven for thinking that Bond director Marc Forster and screenwriter Jason Keller’s new drama Machine Gun Preacher was a fictitious and rather cheap attempt by Hollywood at raising the plight of Africa’s war-ravaged areas, had you not heard of Sam Childers. Indeed, such is the worthiness of what goes on in the film so unbelievable, but the speed with which former gang biker Childers reforms from being a drug-addled, woman-abusing killer to a God-fearing businessman and Western crusader for Sudanese children happens at a such frightening rate – if only all religion could be so proactive.

It’s hard not to be cynical, and this is part of the problem with bringing such a powerful and noble real-life story adaptation to the screen that the real hero’s good intentions behind the film character can be unfairly subjugated with all the dramatics and action – perhaps such a story is always better told as a documentary for greater, fuller impact.

That’s not to say that the filmmakers do not have the best intentions to heart with the source material – they do, perhaps too much so, as the film tries shamelessly to twang every conceivable heartstring that it’s hard not to be moved. However, is this only because of the reconstructed African travesties that prick our conscious for greater, accelerated change in the affected regions for a brief moment after watching, making an inevitable and potent wake-up call, rather than the film itself being anything remarkable? Perhaps the whiff of American, Bible-bashing arrogance that can cure the world’s wrongs overnight fuels the somewhat bad taste this film sometimes leaves?

On the plus side, Gerard Butler has been suitably picked for his rugged ‘manly’ appeal to portray Childers, which sends his chequered career path off on different, more meaningful tangent this time. If anyone was cast to lead the vigilante war against the Sudanese LRA rebels hell-bent on turning each child into a mini fighting machine against their will, it’s Butler – just swap the Spartan’s primitive weaponry for a shooter, and you have your fearless King Leonidas back in action in a present-day role.

Admittedly, we aren’t supposed to like Childers that much pre-Godly intervention, but there is actually very little to grow fonder of him afterwards either. He makes gargantuan mistakes with his real family back home – his long-suffering wife, Lynn, played by Michelle Monaghan and his daughter, Paige (Madeline Carroll), abandoning them and his struggling best friend, well played by Michael Shannon. But even though Childers is only human, what the film lacks is a reflective moment from him to put everything into perspective; all we get is a pigheaded Childers continually roaming the African plains for lost kids or preaching like some maniacal sect leader at his home-made church in the US.

Monaghan does the best she can in an underdeveloped role that never attempts to explain the greater cost Childers’ double life is having on her existence. Even though the real-life couple may well have stayed together, the film’s character simply stands by her man without so much as a defining climax to clear the air, short of opening an empty safe to show the delusional Childers that all the cash has gone. There is no satisfactory, meaningful resolution either, just a sense of everything being so-so, and even the clichéd addition of an uncooperative Sudanese boy looking for his lost brother who suddenly speaks perfect English to give Childers some great wisdom falls fairly flat in the end.

Although perfectly watchable, in terms of Butler’s ferociously determined performance, Machine Gun Preacher plays a little too safe and skips over the real significance of finding God then oversimplifies the ugly and complex situation in Sudan. What was needed from the filmmakers was a greater insight into the dramatic transformation a person goes through in both respects, rather than rushing to put Childers’ accomplishments on a pedestal, however deserved, while packing in the action sequences to secure a wider audience.

3/5 stars

By @FilmGazer

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**WATCH THE TRAILER HERE

 

In Time *

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Posted: 01/11/2011

Gattaca writer-director Andrew Niccol is normally apt at looking at current social issues in a near-future or parallel sci-fi world context. In Time appears to explore our obsession with youth, the death of urgency and the distribution of wealth – the latter being very topical at present with the global ‘Occupy’ anti-capitalist protests. However, Niccol’s latest dystopian offering is a prime example of looking great on paper, but not on screen, and squandering the opportunity to bring to life the highly thought-provoking debate it creates.

In a future where time is the daily currency and people stop aging at 25, but are genetically engineered to live only one more year, for many it’s a day-to-day existence of buying extra time to survive, or timing out on the spot. After helping a wealthy, suicidal centenarian – who has wandered into the ghetto of Dayton – to escape the time bandits who want to steal his time, ‘time-poor’ Will Salas (Justin Timberlake) finds himself accused of murder and on the run with ‘time-rich’ hostage Sylvia Weis (Amanda Seyfried), the rebellious daughter of a time mogul. Their union becomes an important one in the fight against the unjust system.

Apart from feeling like you’ve sat through a naff comedian’s time-gag gig for 110 minutes, with a script that might well have been tongue-in-cheek time puns, but comes across as clichéd, tedious and groan-inducing, Niccol makes matters worse with some sloppy direction and choppy editing. In his aim to create a dystopia not too far-fetched in the current 21st Century imagination, he offers very little contrast to set it and its ideas adequately apart, creating a bland backdrop that does no credit to cinematographer Roger Deakins’ talents, and looks like a music video with a passion for old vintage cars at best. The only slightly intriguing quality is the sense of urgency of his shots, with those in the ghetto being snappier than the longer, laboured ones in the wealthy, time-filthy-rich district of New Greenwich of District 1. Will’s suspicious actions also serve as a nice contrast in these leisurely moments that stand him apart.

Even the exciting premise of good-looking leads Timberlake and Seyfried teaming up as a gun-toting Bonnie and Clyde, robbing the rich to feed the poor, begins to fade fast, once you’ve had your fill of the slick fashions, the flash cars and the humdrum cashes and punch-ups. Although edger in this than we have seen her before, Seyfried fails to bolster Timberlake’s action-hero, lead-role shortcomings, possibly because of his inexperience, but more to do with Timberlake lacking a dangerous edge and darker psyche that is required to demonstrate Will’s full coming-of-age arc in this. Most of the time, Seyfried just looks doe-eyed and detached, when not running and diving all over the place in impossibly high heels. In fact, Niccol fails his actors and their portrayals in not fully explaining the socialist implications of Will’s late father, or why humans only live until they are 25, or why Sylvia has never swam in the ocean – as you would expect from a rebellious rich kid.

Cillian Murphy as timekeeper cop Raymond Leon in pursuit of the couple-on-the-run is never intriguing enough to pull his character out of the average, leather-clad sci-fi authoritarian category, even though there is a brief hint as to his back story that comes a little too late to have any impact. Murphy always does ‘controlled maniac’ rather well, but there is never any sense as to how hard Leon struggles against his principles and exercised discipline in this to warrant him being merely clichéd and two-dimensional.

With such an original sci-fi concept that has a potent economic allegory that rouses interest in the first part then fizzles away as the action and serviceable acting dominates, you may well wish the clock display meter would run out on the lead characters – or worst, be wondering how to get back your own precious time after watching this disappointing effort.

1/5 stars

By @FilmGazer

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LFF 2011: Anonymous***

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Posted: 29/10/2011

To be or not to be, that is certainly the subjective question of whether director Roland Emmerich’s new film will excite or disgust. Indeed, with the covering of one of our greatest playwright’s name’s in his hometown of Stratford-upon-Avon in protest of Anonymous, William Shakespeare might be thrilled at the reignited interest in him.

In writer John Orloff and Emmerich’s version of Elizabethan events, the playwright (played by Rafe Spall) is actually an illiterate fool, a scheming charlatan who grabs the opportunity for easy fame – and to make money (it could be argued, like a former-day version of a reality TV contestant) – by laying claim to a series of plays written by Anonymous that delight the crowds at the local theatre. Unbeknown to all, these were actually penned by Edward De Vere, Earl of Oxford (Rhys Ifans), to silence ‘the voices’ in his head. But as a member of the Royal Court, he is unable to be open about his creativity, or face disgrace. Meanwhile, the English throne, headed by theatre-loving Elizabeth I (played by both Joely Richardson and her real-life mother Vanessa Redgrave), is being manipulated by the Cecil Family of father William (David Thewlis) and later, by his son, Robert (Edward Hogg), so that a Scottish successor can take over.

Depending on how much you hold the bard dear to your heart, what must not be forgotten is this is an entertaining piece of imaginary work in itself – as suggested by the opening prologue by Derek Jacobi. The fact that there has always been speculation about the origins of Shakespeare’s works only goes to fuel how fitting the mystery is for cinematic purposes. Everyone likes to question history’s great mysteries when there is an ounce of doubt, from who shot JFK to the death of Princess Diana. So, without sounding flippant, the emphasis here is on ‘imaginary work’, and the film-makers certainly grab our attention.

This film is equally about the Royal Court power struggles, as it is the Shakespeare parts, and it is the former that is the film’s true momentum – not whether aristocrat De Vere will be found out. Hence, if period-based deception, temptation and pure decadence appeal, Emmerich’s rich ‘Old Masters’-style cinematography and sumptuous settings – some of which scream CGI – are a delight to behold.

Nevertheless, any upset at the ‘raw deal’ Shakespeare is getting in this, is not the question mark over the plays’ true author, but how the film-makers portray our great bard as an utter clown. Spall is certainly amusing, raising sniggers and having a ball in the role – if only employed to make Ifans look wise and credible as De Vere. But some might feel a little perturbed in the scene when Shakespeare asks De Vere whether ‘published’ means ‘in a book’? That said comedy makes a fool out of anyone, and this scene is little more ‘offensive’ than a TV comedy sketch, in all honesty, with Spall as Shakespeare as a parody of one of his own literary fools that provide the comical aspect in often a turbulent time.

These moments are also counterbalanced by the film’s celebration of the works in general, and there are some magical re-enactments of The Rose and The Globe theatres that make you yearn for a good Shakespearean evening out. The other delight is watching fine British acting at play, and the added surprise of Ifans in a serious role as de Vere that makes for a rousing spectacle, not too deft as to be unfitting for the whole gay affair, but with just enough deadpan theatrics to yet again remind you that you are watching a well-directed and staged interpretation of the reality.

Without going down the long, arduous road of comparing historical facts to add to the scholarly and fan-based denouncement of Anonymous, there are some extraordinary claims made that don’t add up after researching the characters. However, as we are prompted in the film’s lines to place our trust in the power of the words – these being merely another opinion to add to the rest of history’s sceptics, the overall sentiment after watching this is one of awe of the work in question, and that can only be a good thing.

3/5 stars

By @FilmGazer

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**WATCH THE TRAILER HERE**