Tom Hanks’ films usually follow the same sentimental pattern of ‘loser triumphs’, making them predictably feel-good, heart-felt and all-American. With Hanks in the title role, Larry Crowne is no exception as the amicable star brings his charismatic warmth and inoffensive humour to yet another human story.
The story cashes in on current times of austerity and looming cuts, with Crowne (Hanks), the hardworking and perfect employee of a retail company, being made redundant, as he cannot climb the corporate ladder into management without a college education. Struck dumb by his harsh treatment, he refuses to wallow in self-pity, and is determined to make a better man of himself by going back to college and getting qualified. What Crowne doesn’t vouch for is a completely new, youthful identity and the acceptance into a cool college scooter gang – or the growing affections of his attractive lecturer, Mercedes Tainot (Julia Roberts), who is in a dead-end marriage. Things are looking up.
Larry Crowne is textbook Hanks – not surprising as he wrote, produced, acted and directed it, which is a first for the star. This watchable if measurably prudent offering is inspiring, purely because it tugs at the heartstrings and triggers the emotions of most working folk who can sympathise with Crowne’s position in today’s temperamental job climate. It also positions the likable Hanks opposite his Charlie Wilson’s Warco-star, Roberts, once more, in a successful screen partnership that shows both actors off in their best light.
That said Roberts will forever play a variation of her Pretty Woman Vivian Ward character, a smart, opinionated and misunderstood beauty, caught in a rut and going against her character’s appealing independent nature to fall back on a man to ‘complete her’. The actress has very little else on offer as she matures in her film roles. Again, Roberts plays up her character’s acidic, though witty retorts in this – hardly surprising, considering some of the pupils Mrs Tainot must deal with. But Roberts just comes across as more bitter than sassy in such a role as the years roll on, and this character will blend in with her other performances. Nevertheless it’s her partnership with Hanks that will be the film’s memorable and redeeming quality.
Larry Crowne is also great fun to watch Hanks in ‘mid-life crisis mode’, squeezing into tight trendy gear and having a (real-life) hoot learning to handle a scooter and getting out on the open road. Think Grease 2’s Michael Carrington, only much older, as the cute ‘nerd that turns’ gets the girl. As a result of its leads’ ages and the topics, this film is targeting an older, more established audience, though it translates perfectly well in an almost immature manner for ‘teacher crush’ value, whatever your age.
Hanks fans will revel in their hero’s hour in this innocuous tale that’s well intentioned for all its mediocre happenings and foreseeable ending. If nothing else, Larry Crowne could kick-start some serious soul searching and stalled existences.
Iranian writer-director Asghar Farhadi’s Nader and Simin, A Separation (Jodaeiye Nader az Simin), or A Separation for short, is an illuminating and moving drama from the heart of one of the Middle East’s most guarded nations, Iran. Farhadi gives a truly fascinating and contemporary picture of the tensions brewing at the heart of its society, through a seemingly average occurrence and a genuine mistake.
Winner of the 2011 Sydney Film Prize and the Golden Bear at the 2011 Berlin Film Festival, including Silver Bears for both Best Actor and Best Actress, A Separation tells the story of a couple, Nader (Peyman Moaadi) and Simin (Leila Hatami), who still love each other but want a divorce, as she wants to live abroad and take their teenage daughter, Termeh (Sarina Farhadi), with her and he doesn’t because of his ailing father’s health. After unsuccessfully going before the courts, they decide on a separation, and Simin moves out. Nader hires Razieh (Sareh Bayat), a young woman to look after this father (Ali-Asghar Shahbazi) who is suffering from Alzheimer’s. But he doesn’t know his new help is not only pregnant, but also working without her unstable husband Hodjat’s (Shahab Hosseini) permission. Nader soon finds himself entangled in a web of lies, manipulation and public confrontations.
There is a raw but controlled emotional power to Farhadi’s pseudo-documentary film that has a surprising and profoundly deep-set compassion to it, as it deals with the questions of law, relationships and female independence in an intrepid and innovative manner.
From a female perspective, the opening scene is an empowering one, as Nader (Moadi) and Simin (Hatami) appeal to you – the camera/judge – for a divorce on shaky grounds, throwing all Western preconceptions to the wind about this often-portrayed ‘oppressive’ religious state. Simin represents the modern, independent route, whilst Razieh is the more obedient, traditional way. However, Farhadi expertly blurs the lines between both, giving his women a range of subtle nuances as they try to find solace and justice in their personal lives. Hatami and Bayat’s stellar performances bring an incredible feminine warmth, strength and intuition to their characters, allowing us to connect with these two women immediately, regardless of lifestyle, as they seek to find their voice in the escalating situation. Farhadi’s admiration for women is fully felt, especially education for females – as emphasised by scholarly Termeh, as well as the love for his country.
Even Farhadi’s male leads Nader (Moadi) and Hodjat (Hosseini) largely avoid the Iranian masculine stereotype. Both bristle with a misplaced pride and simmering resentment of the ever-present (and farcical) State intrusion on all matters, and though flawed, each shows a sensitive, caring side and a high regard for their women in their own unique way – a compelling contradiction, considering their initial treatment of each. These characters, masterfully brought to life by Moadi and Hosseini, address the tale’s issues of morality and deceit, and are as much victims as they are perpetrators, with Farhadi muddying the waters between good and bad personalities.
Farhadi’s style is courageous and hugely refreshing, almost Cinéma vérité of a secluded state, placing his film on a level footing with other such international relationship dramas – and dissolving religious boundaries in the process as it reaches out for that common thread: humanity. As the first Iranian film to win at Berlin, A Separation is quietly revolutionary film-making, executed in a thought-provoking fashion while triggering an exciting new Iranian voice of its own in this genre.
The biggest mistake you can make is to dismiss Paul Feig’s Bridesmaids as yet another pre-wedding ‘chick flick’, along the lines of 27 Dresses. An even bigger one is writing it off as simply a ‘female Hangover’ – even though contrary to critic sentiment, the lads in Bangkok are riding high at No.2 slot in the UK box office. In this sense, there’s still plenty of mileage left in stag/hen comedy. The problem Bridesmaids has is its goofy, snappy trailer could never do justice to the excellent timing and delivery that’s right on the mark.
Bridesmaids sees Annie (Kristen Wiig) picked as her best friend Lillian’s (Maya Rudolph) maid of honour. Although happy for her, it highlights what’s missing from Annie’s life, and she soon discovers just how much pressure is involved helping organise Lillian’s big day, including the hen night. Things don’t help when you’re lovelorn and broke and have an annoyingly perfect and rich girlfriend of Lillian’s (Rose Byrne) hell bent on upstaging you. It looks like Annie is going to have to bluff her way through the expensive and bizarre rituals with an oddball group of bridesmaids.
As co-writer, star Wiig is the perfect choice for the lead of Annie because she knows her material and can play down extraordinary moments of madness. After popping up on international radar as potty-mouthed Ruth Buggs in Paul – Americans will know her better from SNL, it feels as though this is Wiig’s true moment to shine. She’s helped co-pen a comedy where women are finally not just pretty, witty appendages, but damn funny as hell. The writing is razor-sharp and targeted at both sexes – and yes, more males than females were howling with laughter in our screening. It also helps that Wiig is pitch-perfect, with one of the best and most hilarious post-sex conversations with Jon Hamm as her cocky ‘f**kbuddy” in an opening clincher in a long time.
The visual gags never overstay their screen welcome but add just enough to portray any given situation, or enhance it further. Wiig and co have thought long hard about the length of other set pieces in a film, too, with some resorting to toilet humour. But it’s delivered in a more heartfelt and meaningful manner – if that’s possible – that has you screwing your face up in disgust while crying with laughter in sympathy, such as the infamous food poisoning scenes. It’s as though the all-female writing team – that includes Annie Mumolo (the nervous woman on the plane next to Annie in the film) – has taken traditionally male-focused humour and given it purpose.
One the biggest stars to shine in this is Melissa McCarthy of Samantha Who? fame who, no stranger to weighty issues in her roles, is man-hungry ‘government agent’ and Lillian’s future sister-in-law, tomboy Megan, who doesn’t let anything or anyone bring her down. The comic timing between her and Wiig is genius, slowing down the pace to capture a poignant moment, before ramping it up again – and no one will forget Megan’s meat sandwich moment at the end in a hurry. In fact, Byrne is also brilliant as uptight Helen, Annie’s nemesis, with her most memorable – and the film’s never-ending – scene opposite Wiig at the engagement party.
Non-US talent both shines and flickers. On the plus side, Chris O’Dowd is like a less-overbearing Irish Seth Rogen as Officer Nathan Rhodes, Annie’s love interest. He treads a finer, more endearing line as Rhodes, and although seems like an unlikely union with Wiig, matches her deadpan wit and delivery as one of the most compelling rom-com pairings in recent years – by the way, this is the only rom-com element as Bridesmaids avoids most of the genre clichés, until the very end that is. On the downside, the scenes with Little Britain’s Matt Lucas and Aussie actress Rebel Wilson as Annie’s flatmates seem relatively pointless, adding nothing to the story. It’s as though Wiig fancied having Lucas in it, so wrote him in. As these scenes are brief, they don’t detract from the overall entertainment value.
Bridesmaids is THE best unisex night out at the cinema you’ll have in ages – this is the best proposal yet, and an invite you shouldn’t decline.
Good documentary film-making informs and provokes debate, and hopefully, addresses all sides of the argument. So in recent times, we’ve had some highly emotive big-screen subject matter (Inside Job’s banking crisis, for example) that’s naturally one-sided to stir up a hornet’s nest of public outrage. It seems film-makers need to find a common concern to guarantee their mainstream audience, and Lucy Walker addresses one of the biggest here in her new film Countdown To Zero about nuclear power falling in the wrong hands – or ‘proliferation’. Oh, and if an act of terrorism wasn’t enough of a worry, the world could go up in a cloud of radioactive smoke through an act of failed diplomacy (like in the Cold War years) or a simple accident (a rising moon that was thought to be an in-coming bomb). Nothing to fear, then…
Walker’s film features chilling commentary from international statesmen and former leaders Jimmy Carter, Mikhail Gorbachev, Pervez Musharraf, F.W. de Klerk and Tony Blair and traces the history of the atomic bomb, from one of its bright-eyed and later remorseful inventors, J. Robert Oppenheimer (who makes a weepy confessional in the film), to the present state of global affairs and the nine nations with nuclear arsenal, USA, Russia, UK, France, Pakistan, India, North Korea, Iran and Israel. But more disturbingly, the film highlights how unprotected we are against the threat of the material (highly enriched uranium or HEU) and the know-how falling into the wrong hands, such as Al Qaeda. After all, according to Rolf Mowatt-Larssen, former CIA Operations Officer for 22 years (1928-2005), to acquire HEU you can simply steal it, buy it or build it – and the film makes all three seem so feasible, like going food shopping in your local supermarket.
With such volatile material in itself, Walker doesn’t have to try too hard to make an unnerving and highly persuasive ticking time-bomb for going ‘zero’ tolerance on nukes, supported by real-life interviews with ‘those in the know’ and news footage. Taken quite literally: “We’re doomed”, seems to be the sensational standpoint, especially if, as the film states, Iran and North Korea are ready to begin trading their technology, and a tiny amount of HEU (25kg) needed to make a bomb can easily be smuggled through ports in kitty litter, without a whiff of detection.
Looking at Walker’s film objectively, it suggests how damn lucky we’ve been so far, and attempts to finish on an ‘upbeat’ note – after scaring the bejesus out of us – with a last push of hope: There’s been a 50 per cent reduction in US and Russian nukes – but there are still around 23,000 bombs and 1,700 tonnes of HEU worldwide. Barack Obama and the Russians have agreed to reduce their stockpiles by another 50 per cent. That’s good to hear, but it’s not the big super powers that are the biggest ‘villains’ of the piece, rather the other, more unsettled players – according to Blair and others: Pakistan and Iran. In this sense, Countdown seems to serve as a propaganda tool for the West’s latest political concerns. In fact, this film is dated already as it’s pre-Osama Bin Laden demise, clearly pointing to Pakistan’s political instability and untrustworthiness with it’s harbouring of the world’s most wanted man. To balance matters a little, it does offer the highly rational argument of ‘defence’ used by the West from Iran’s Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, leading you to think for a moment, who are the real scaremongers here?
In terms of its general picture, Countdown doesn’t tell us anything we don’t already know, but the well-presented details enforce what we already fear, bringing it back to public attention. Perhaps the most alarming memory of Countdown are the famous words from John F. Kennedy: “Every man, woman and child lives under a nuclear sword of Damocles, hanging by the slenderest of threads, capable of being cut at any moment by accident or miscalculation or by madness. The weapons of war must be abolished before they abolish us….” (Address before the General Assembly of the United Nations, NYC, 1961). Food for thought, which is precisely what Walker has achieved above all else.
‘Demand Zero Day’ on June 21 sees over 72 participating venues across the UK, where you can watch a screening of the film, followed by a live stream of the panel from BAFTA, including Queen Noor, Lawrence Bender, Valerie Plame and Margaret Beckett.http://countdowntozerofilm.com/screenings.
You can hear the fanboys/girls buzzing away with anticipation at yet another comic-book adaptation bursting onto the big screen this week – with more ticket-hiking 3D promises. Indeed, Hal Jordan aka Green Lantern is probably one of the most down-to-Earth (pardon the pun) and human of the majority of superheroes in the DC world, so instantly feels like a winning lead character for the uninitiated. As for this film, think X-Men: First Class, in terms of “how it all began”, as Martin Campbell’s Green Lantern is how Hal ‘became’ part of the green-glowing intergalactic police force.
In the film, Hal Jordan (Ryan Reynolds) is a cocky, maverick test pilot trying to break free from his deceased pilot dad’s shadow, and risking everything to constantly deal with his demons. One day, an intergalactic peacekeeper called a Green Lantern, who is badly wounded fighting a sinister, fear-hungry enemy called Parallax, crash-lands on Earth and changes Hal’s life forever. His ring chooses Hal as its replacement owner when he dies, a great honour to have bestowed on anyone, and Hal is the first human ever selected. Powered by the lantern, the ring allows its owner the ability to create anything the mind can imagine to defend the Universe and the immortal Guardians who rule over the Central Battery, the green source of energy. Hal must now conquer his fears and rise to the challenge of defeating Parallax and save humankind from extinction.
The central theme of the film is good verses evil, in the shape of will verses fear: Overcome your fear with a strong will, and you can achieve anything. It’s an interesting notion that’s highly appealing, if it didn’t start grating from the constant nauseating reminders from well-intentioned characters at every opportune moment.
Naturally, green is the colour of life, therefore ‘hope’ or ‘will’, and hence the film’s suggestive environmental slant about saving planets. In fact, the Green Lanterns’ enemy, Parallax looks and is reminiscent of one big, insipid yellow virus cloud consuming fear – and souls – like an alien Dementor. Indeed, Campbell’s vision seems to be an amusing mish-mash homage to the likes of Harry Potter, Top Gun, LOTR, Superman and even Ghostbusters, to the point were Parallax’s clouds form downtown and people start praying – you can almost hear the 1984 music marking the arrival of the 2011 Zeul.
The odd beginning of Green Lantern, set in a US Air Force base, is necessary to paint Hal the risk-taker, and harks back to when Top Gun‘s Maverick does his air stunts and hangs his wingman – or woman in this case, co-pilot, childhood friend and love interest Carol Ferris (Blake Lively) – out to dry. Heck, it even has a bar with a jukebox, as well as a picture of his Pa on the wall so Hal can feel at home.
The subject of Reynolds playing Hal Jordan is a mixed bag. On the one hand, here’s a actor normally associated with average ‘Mr Nice Guy’ parts, so we do instantly relate to his cheeky charm and flaws in this. These qualities – plus his infamous toned physique that’s fully ‘on show’ at times – work to his advantage, and will certainly get the average female punter interested. On the downside, because of his average-guy stance, Reynolds still feels a tad misplaced as a credible superhero – even though he gives it his all and has fun in the process. His laughs come down to what we usually expect from a Reynolds’ performance, not necessarily because he gets under Hal’s skin and makes him funny. It’s almost as if Reynolds is not taking his responsibility of being the first actor to play Green Lantern completely seriously. Just as well, perhaps, as this film can’t be taken too seriously either.
Lively aside who’s merely pretty, ballsy eye candy, Campbell’s cast is impressive, and includes Mark Strong and Peter Sarsgaard. Strong is the leader of the Green Lantern Corps and Hal’s adversary, Thaal Sinestro, who doesn’t believe the human has it in him to be a worthy Green Lantern – especially taking the place of his former mentor, the fallen Lantern Abin Sur (Temuera Morrison). As ever, Strong commands the screen and matches Reynolds’ flippant, defensive reactions with a steely purpose. As the only actor in heavy prosthetic gear, Strong looks magnificent, including his eyes – plus those of Reynolds when in Green Lantern mode.
Sarsgaard seems the relish playing a multi-faceted character, Hal’s jealous, reclusive childhood friend, Hector Hammond, who through forever disappointing his powerful senator father (Tim Robbins), turns into a fear-filled villain after a brush with Parallax’s bodily fluids from working as a xenobiologist – biologist of extra-terrestrial life – on Abin Sur’s remains. Sarsgaard as Hector never fully changes or adopts a silly superhuman name, and like ‘average’ Reynolds, is thrilling to watch as an unlikely super-villain choice.
As for fans of the comic book, other Green Lanterns on the Corps’ home planet of Oa, Xudarian Tomar-Re and Kilowog, are present in this adaptation. In scenes with Strong, these CG characters do look blatantly animated and lacking, which is disappointing, even though they are brilliantly brought to life by the voices of Geoffrey Rush and Michael Clarke Duncan, respectively.
But in terms of effects and design, the latter is down to the production designer’s reliance on a film researcher and self-confessed comic-book expert, and is said to faithfully recreate every detail and enhance the imagery for the big screen. Oa is a spectacular vista to behold, with its dazzling green light and shapes, but some of the 3D conversion and viewing experience detracts from the detail, which is a shame. Another issue is what seem to be large chunks missing from the final cut, or badly edited sequences – when Hal visits his nephew on his birthday, for example, and gives him his present. Although Hal with the ability of the ring can zip around easily from place to place, the plot does too, creating mysterious black holes in places, and rendering the big climax between Hal, Hector and Parallax, then Hal verses the Parallax very disjointed and rushed, like a galactic anti-climax.
And if you think it’s a 3D film, it is, but only in the sense of all the others trumpeted this year, with a bit of fly-out action moments, but mostly depth-of-field enhancements. In terms of the intricate production design, you may get more out of Green Lantern seeing it in 2D.
Overall, you want to like Green Lantern – and you partly do because of a couple of leads who are not normally associated with comic-book stories, Reynolds and Sarsgaard, bringing their own personalities to the roles. That said it’s all a bit daft and sentimental at times. Indeed, through drumming home Hal’s ordinariness through what we know of Reynolds – who’s far from ‘ordinary’ in the physical sense, we never quite get the elation of that transforming moment to Green Lantern status. The film also needs a jump-start or a new Central Battery sometimes that Reynolds alone simply cannot provide. And if you’re not a fan of the comic series, one fantasy world looks the same as any another, so without a greater purpose and an impressive head-to-head confrontation, Green Lantern is left a little wanting. Still, like most films of late that force you to watch the credits, a promise of a sequel in one brief clip of further clarity may reignite your will for a revisit.
Think the opposite of sweet Mary, as Diaz is a very naughty, potty-mouthed broad in Walk HardJake Kasdan’s new comedy, Bad Teacher. Even though it co-stars a decent bunch of comedy talent in Jason Segel, Lucy Punch and John Michael Higgins, make no mistake; this is a Diaz ogle fest, pure and simple. So, if her presence and ditzy humour tickles your fancy, this is for you. But it features a cynical edge to her usual delivery, showing Diaz becoming more jaded with age, and adopting the self-depreciating brand of humour that Segel and others of the Apatow gang embrace. It also has Lee Eisenberg involved, the scribe behind the American TV series, The Office, and Ghostbusters III.
Elizabeth Halsey (Diaz) is a teacher desperate to find a rich man and get the hell out of education. But even though she’s drop-dead gorgeous and has a body to die for – as seconded by lustful gym teacher Russell Gettis (Segel), she’s still unlucky in love, having been dropped by her sugar daddy because of her money fixation. When new supply teacher Scott Delacorte (Justin Timberlake) with his wealthy family connections arrives on the school scene, Elizabeth makes it her mission to woo him and get the hell out of dodge – if only she could get a boob job asap. But she has fierce competition from squeaky-clean but slightly uptight teacher Amy Squirrel (Punch). Who will get their hands on the man and the school prize money for best grades first?
On the plus side, Bad Teacher provides some giggles and a lot of indulgent, zany antics from an intriguing ensemble cast. It’s worth a look alone to see ex-real-life partners Diaz and Timberlake’s former favourite sex position re-enacted – or just for Diaz in all her glory as she rocks every outfit, regardless of what sex you are. Cue Daisy Duke slow-mo moment. Though sorry, Diaz, Simpson still has more curves to carry off the look.
On the downside, Bad Teacher’s gags feel forced and relentlessly tiresome at times. It does suffer from over-the-top theatrics, as some characters seriously outstaying their screen welcome, namely Punch as the Squirrel who goes into her usual near-meltdown in character. Plus we get teased about a previous Squirrel episode, but never get to hear the full details, which it feels like it’s building up to reveal.
Timberlake will appease his adoring fans, but for the rest of us, apart from rekindling any trashy celebrity-mag fascination with watching his every move with Diaz on screen for signs of a glimmer of left-over lust, his weak performance as Scott is easily forgotten – and that’s nothing to do with the equally unappealing mummy’s boy character; Timberlake just doesn’t have enough comedy prowess to pull it off opposite gift-of-the-gag Diaz. Worse yet, he gets seriously lost in any exchange between Diaz and Punch.
More interesting is Segel as horny Mr Gettis, constantly after a bit of Ms Halsey. His on-screen chemistry with Diaz is naturally flirtaeous and effortless as he throws in glib observations that prove far more memorable than a lot of the all-out buffoonery from the rest of the cast. Another future Diaz-Segel comedy pairing would be a welcome thing.
Without giving away all its tricks – and sadly, many of the punchlines are featured in the trailer, Bad Teacher isn’t a lesson in rocket science, or taxing on the brain. Diaz + hot outfits + attitude = money-spinner, and as every red-blooded male’s fantasy high-school distraction, Diaz tops the class poll. Think a female Billy Bob’s Willie – but with miles better pins, and you have a cheeky, carefree comedy option this week up for grabs.
Without sounding like Trainspotting’s Renton, writer/director Oren Moverman and co-writer Alessandro Camon’s poignant new drama, The Messenger, is about ‘choosing life’. But it’s not enough to simply be alive; you need to have a purpose, too – something anyone can relate to. The unique situation dealt with in the much delayed film – originally completed in 2099 – about two military officers (played by Ben Foster and Woody Harrelson) tasked with telling loved ones about a fallen soldier is thankfully not an environment most have to encounter. That said if, like this author, you are a Forces’ NoK (Next of Kin), the full impact of the story hits home like a cold, sobering shock.
Given the task of notifying loved ones of those killed in action, decorated and injured ‘war hero’ Staff Sergeant Will Montgomery (Foster) is less than pleased with his new peace-time assignment, and even less so to be on call, 24/7, with brash and unpredictable Captain Tony Stone (Harrelson), who seems to have given up the ghost on life and any expectations in his career. The two form an unlikely bond during the course of their generally thankless duty, where they are often abused by relatives, a bond which is threatened when the Staff Sergeant grows fond of a widow, Olivia (Samantha Morton), who the pair recently informed of her husband’s death – and leading to Montgomery breaking a rule of not getting involved. As the only two who can fully understand the daily stress of their duty, Montgomery and Stone gain strength from each other.
It’s clear to see why The Messenger attracted nominations at this year’s Oscars, with Harrelson up for Best Supporting Actor, but sadly, losing out to Bale for The Fighter. The outstanding casting of Harrelson alongside Foster gives a lesson in subtle acting genius. Theirs is a powerhouse performance full of tragic comic undertones while looking at the psychological effects of war in an original storytelling manner of an unlikely and sentimental ‘bromance’. Admittedly, the testosterone-fuelled bitterness kicks in at rebellious moments, but the rest of the treatment is respectful and deeply moving, showing different sides to the usual military film affair.
The admiration for Foster’s work grows with every role he adopts, and it’s a shame this film wasn’t released earlier than 2011 to acknowledge his talent in the industry’s awards. Foster portrays mentally-tortured Montgomery with as much affection and zest for life as the part permits, never allowing him to become a post-combat casualty like his colleague and friend, Stone, but constantly searching for inspiration. In a sense, though grave in subject matter, his journey is wonderfully enlightening and hope-filled, allowing both men an ounce of redemption for any ‘sins’ they feel they have inflicted, and for both actors to inject some humour into their situation.
The weakest link, if there was one to gripe about it, seems to be the casting of talented actress Morton – herself from a military background – as Army widow Olivia. Morton fails to fully translate the plethora of emotions Olivia would be dealing with to get to the point where she is ready to stand on her own two feet. That’s not to say Morton is not compelling at times, such as her unspoken chemistry in intimate moments with Foster in the film that are scintillating to witness. But Olivia feels lacking in development, and too quick to heal, rather than coming across as the sensitive type Moverman and Camo probably planned to convey. She seems quietly calculating, but with a sweet exterior, therefore, our empathy with her sad situation is less than it should be, and Morton’s efforts appear somewhat in vain. Admittedly, Captain Stone snidely mentions Olivia’s remarkable recovery so soon after her husband’s death, so misconstruing her actions is intentional in the script – just not satisfactorily explored.
Like their characters that ironically achieve a sense of pride and contribution through a begrudging purpose of national duty, Foster and Harrelson should also feel a sense of great achievement in making The Messenger – as should Moverman who has a flare for directing that needs further encouraged. Let’s hope his latest project, Rampart, that stars both actors once more, and is about another person in service trying to make his mark, lives up to even greater expectations.
Mention Mel Gibson’s new film The Beaver, and the standard retort is, “who wants to see that?” after what the actor’s said in public. Reminiscent to loathing a political party, based on a figurehead’s opinions and actions, fallen star Gibson has a lot of campaigning to do. But putting all the less-than-attractive Gibson character traits aside, and merely looking at The Beaver as a relationship story about coping with mental illness, it does highlight what a great actor Gibson is – a pity, considering his name will put some off considering this as a viable cinema choice.
The Beaver, directed by and co-starring Jodie Foster, is an emotional story about a man called Walter Black (Gibson) with an escalating mental illness who wants to get better and rebuild his family, but initially feels he can only live in the real world through the aid of a discarded puppet called the Beaver. Once a successful toy executive, Black deals with his demons by letting the Beaver speak for him, to the success of his ailing business, but to the detriment of his family life: His wife, Meredith (Foster), feels more and more alienated by his behaviour, although she tries to incorporate it as part of his healing process. Walter’s older teenage son, Porter (Anton Yelchin), who spends his life being the voice of others via the written word, tries blocking out his father’s worst characteristics he feels he’s adopting, making him hate Walter all the more. The only one who gets Walter is his young son, Henry (Riley Thomas Stewart), who relates to the Beaver – and his father – via woodwork crafts. It takes a tragedy to rally the family into take action, before their bonds are damaged beyond repair.
Without a doubt, writer Kyle Killen’s short story about a ‘talking’ beaver has evolved into an immensely thought-provoking, touching and original screenplay about the effects of depression. Indeed, far from patronising those with the illness, stories and characters have helped sufferers and their relatives deal with its effects in the past – take Ellverton’s Taming the Black Dog, for example. Hence The Beaver feels like a cinematic explanation that doesn’t attempt to find a solution in 90 minutes, but tries to paint a picture of one person’s experiences.
All the adult cast inject an emotional wealth and complexity into their characters that make for some gruelling viewing moments, compared to lighter-hearted and hopeful ones. It seems Foster still has the tricks of the trade since Little Man Tate (1991) to get the most poignant, natural and spontaneous reactions out of her stellar cast, particularly the younger actors, and possibly down to her own friendship and connection with Gibson.
Gibson brings the much-needed inner turmoil laced with subtle humour and child-like insolence to the part of Walter as he explores his ‘alter ego’ and the hold it has on him. Walter’s own love-hate relationship with the Beaver takes an abrupt, stomach-churning turn, but one necessary to push the film onto the next phase and the road to salvation. The irony is this film was made long before Gibson’s ‘public escapades’, but with hindsight, you can’t help watching it as a redemption piece for his character and career, especially one scene when the Beaver delivers rough justice on its human mannequin.
On the downside, some of the Black-est moments seem borderline glib, enhanced by a dubious, upbeat soundtrack, and The Beaver has some stagnant, complacent parts to its story that make proceedings drag a little. Although the introduction of Jennifer Lawrence as popular girl Norah is designed to stir the real Porter from his comatose self – and add a touch of ‘glamour’ to the neutral colour palate of the film, it does feel like an odd sub-plot, like the marriage of a teen-angst drama of the Heathers ilk, to a more serious character study, like The Madness of King George. Still, Yelchin does not disappoint, bringing a Charlie Bartlett ‘oddball’ side to Porter – if a less witty one, and does his best opposite Oscar-nominated Lawrence (Winter’s Bone) in character development. Foster furrows her brow and stumbles her words in a role we’ve seen her enacted countless times, but still adequately gets her character’s message of personal hardship across.
Gibson or no Gibson, The Beaver is never going to be an easy sell on subject matter alone. But curiosity over a Gibson screen return may make this a surprise box office climber – and a warm-up act for the greatly anticipated How I Spent My Summer Vacation this year. Maybe Gibson can get The Beaver to do all the talking from now on?
The reluctance that some non-French mainstream markets have in promoting a foreign-language film is thankfully subsiding year on year, considering the abundance of talent these films bring – take Point Blank/ À bout portant most recently, and the international crossover of their stars and themes. In fact, a film like François Ozon’s Potiche should translate in whatever language it’s shown in, purely for its universal, off-the-wall theatrics delivered by a superb cast of internationally renowned greats, Catherine Deneuve, Gérard Depardieu and Fabrice Luchini.
An adaptation of a 1970s eponymous hit comic play, Potiche is set in a provincial French town in 1977, and tells the fun tale of submissive housewife Suzanne Pujol (Deneuve) – or ‘potiche’/‘trophy housewife’ – who goes about her ‘wifely’ household duties (cooking, sewing, gardening etc), until her stressed out and tyrannical husband Robert (Luchini) has an bad episode when the workers of the family umbrella firm go on strike and take him hostage. On the suggestion of her former flame and leftist mayor Maurice Badin (Depardieu), Suzanne steps in to take control. But far from being easy to manipulate – as hubby and mayor believe, she does a remarkable job of turning fortunes and feelings around, proving to be an approachable, competent and assertive businesswoman. Then her husband returns to work and wants things back to normal – mainly so he can carry on his secret fling with his infatuated secretary. But Suzanne is not prepared to go quietly.
Potiche is a liberating giggle with a prominent French slant that stands out in the crowded, comic-book film offerings of late. It’s nuances and farcical antics make for an instant light and frothy crowd-pleaser. But as a film, it would be rather forgettable if it were not for Deneuve’s compelling lead. Far from banging the feminist drum about the suppression of women, or being a subversive type too mousey to have any meaningful impact, Deneuve as the potiche Suzanne brings a winning matter-of-fact accord to the part, almost a bitter-sweet one tinged with sarcasm and true French arrogance that shows she’s still alive and kicking inside. Coupled with Deneuve’s screen stature, this exquisite combination allows you to fully believe in Suzanne’s rise to notoriety in the final scenes.
Indeed, there are some delightful moments, especially one where a frumpy, naïve Suzanne, reminiscent of a tweet-suited Thatcher doppelganger, boogies away on the dance floor to Saturday Night Fever tunes with an equally out-of-place and paunch Badin in a local seedy nightclub, the regular haunt of her husband’s (the film’s running joke) that provides the biggest, straight-laced laugh of the film. Depardieu is his usual oafish self and the match of their opposing personalities is a comedy marriage made in screen heaven that staves off the wonderfully devious, stroke-inducing antics portrayed by Luchini as chauvinistic Robert. Each personality certainly brings something of their own to the table, here.
Very much about the gender politics of the time, and particularly the woman’s place at home and at work in 1970s France, the rest of the cast simply crank up the stage-like theatrics to over-dramatic boiling point to heighten these topical points and render the potiche the most sane player of the lot, while reminding you just where its origins lie.
However, Ozon’s adaptation works as well as a camp film as it does a gay stage show with characters we don’t take too seriously buzzing with joie de vive and chronic personal issues. However, its subject matter of women’s rights is still one of relevance today, over 40 years on, that will strike a chord with any woman watching. It’s this fact, along with its zippy dialogue and pace, that raises Potiche out of superficiality, and breathes an infectious fighting spirit to be heard into it.
Tom Hanks’ films usually follow the same sentimental pattern of ‘loser triumphs’, making them predictably feel-good, heart-felt and all-American. With Hanks in the title role, Larry Crowne is no exception as the amicable star brings his charismatic warmth and inoffensive humour to yet another human story.
