Month: September 2017

Oxide Ghosts: the Brass Eye Tapes

16/09/17

It’s hard to believe that it’s twenty years since Brass Eye was first screened on Channel 4. This is something that has not escaped the attention of original director, Michael Cumming. He has been lugging around a suitcase full of VHS tapes of the outtakes ever since and has finally taken the opportunity to show them to the public. Michael is currently touring cinemas all over the UK to show audiences the contents of those tapes. Tonight it’s the Cameo’s turn to grab an eyeful.

Few people would dispute the fact that Chris Morris is a comic genius and even fewer that over the years he has repeatedly gone where few comedians dare to tread. His ‘Paedophile Special’ briefly had him tagged as ‘the most evil man in Britain.’ (I happen to know that he keeps a framed copy of that tabloid cover hanging in his toilet.) More recently, of course, he’s made a successful transition to the big screen with Four Lions. But is Oxide Ghosts really the tribute he deserves?

What we get is an hour of fuzzy, time-coded excerpts thrown together onto the big screen. In some cases what we see is genuinely funny, but more often it’s just glimpses of Morris corpsing, or (whisper it) trying something that doesn’t really come off. There are reasons why many of these clips didn’t make it into the final cut. In the end, it feels rather like watching some DVD ‘extras.’ I can’t help feeling that a ‘best of’ compilation would have been a much more satisfying way to commemorate this anniversary.

There’s a Q & A with Cummings afterwards, where he tells us that he has Chris Morris’s blessing on this project, but like his film, the talk isn’t particularly edifying. This is one for Morris completists, I think. If you have no idea who he is or what Brass Eye was, this really isn’t going to be much help. And the chances are you’ll leave the cinema feeling distinctly underwhelmed.

3 stars

Philip Caveney

The Threepenny Opera

15/09/17

King’s Theatre, Edinburgh

Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill would doubtless have approved of Attic Collective’s version of their infamous master work. From the faked technical problem in the opening minutes through to the battalions of cast members made to ride exercise bicycles throughout the three hour show (as though attempting to power it up), everything has been done to accentuate the artifice of the production – a key Brechtian device.

But up on the massive stage of the King’s Theatre, the Verfremdungseffekt this produces is perhaps a little too pronounced for the play’s own good. The antics of the performers seem dwarfed in such a setting and the sparse lighting effects employed  make us feel like we’re observing it all from a distance – as though we’re watching through binoculars turned the wrong way around. The moment when the fourth wall is completely shattered and a group of prostitutes install themselves in the King’s famous boxes, exchanging lines over the heads of the audience is, for me at least, a standout scene.

Notorious villain MacHeath (a suitably swaggering performance by Charlie West) marries Polly Peachum (Kirsty Benton), much to the chagrin of her parents (Max Reid and Hannah Bradley), who decide that it’s high time their new son-in-law is taken down a peg or two – by the liberal application of a hangman’s noose. And as it turns out, MacHeath has quite a few embarrassing skeletons in his closet, not least the existence of another bride whom he’s completely forgotten to mention, plus several very close companions up at the local brothel…

There are some lovely performances here. Benton’s turn as Polly is particularly impressive and Reid plays Mr Peachum with bombastic glee. I would love to see this in a more intimate setting, where I might become a bit more swept up in the action (less Brechtian perhaps, but, I suspect, more satisfying for an audience). It’s nonetheless a creditable effort from the enthusiastic young cast, who deliver a raucous and audacious evening’s entertainment. If it’s not quite up there with last production Lysistrata, still they give this everything they’ve got, and it’s definitely worth seeking out.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Angels in America

 

 

Denise Gough (Harper) and Andrew Garfield (Prior) in AngelsInAmerica Perestroika photo by Helen Maybanks

09/09/17 and 14/09/17

Thank heavens for NT Live. The National Theatre’s 2017 revival of Angels in America sold out within a few short hours. Of course it did! And, although there’s always the tempting possibility of day tickets (available for same-day performances from 9.30am in person from the box office), they’re only really practical if you’re based in London. We are certainly never going to travel from Scotland on the off-chance we might procure a couple of seats. But NT Live means we can experience this landmark production anyway – even though we’re too busy to see the actual live screening in July, the fact that it’s been committed to film bypasses the ephemeral nature of theatre, and gives us the opportunity to catch up with an encore showing at Edinburgh’s Festival Theatre, a short walk from our apartment.

Okay, it’s not as good as actually being there, sharing a space with the actors in real time. There’s none of the intimacy or jeopardy of live theatre, but it’s a pretty decent second best and we’re very grateful for it. The Festival Theatre is an excellent venue for such a venture: I’ve only seen these screenings in cinemas before, but being in a theatre adds a level of authenticity, and the screen is huge, the sound quality excellent.

It’s a bit of a marathon, this play, even spread over two evenings. But, my word, it’s worth it. In just under eight hours, Tony Kushner’s script offers us a “gay fantasia on national themes” – a sprawling, painful and searingly funny depiction of New York in the 1980s, fractured and ill-prepared to deal with the AIDS epidemic.

The protagonist is Prior Walter, played here by Andrew Garfield in an eye-opening performance: he is, we discover, an actor with real range. Prior is dying and he’s afraid; his boyfriend, Louis (James McArdle), can’t cope and so he leaves. While Louis weeps and beats his breast with useless, futile public expressions of guilt, Prior begins hallucinating, having visions. He’s visited by an angel and by his long-dead ancestors. And, in his dreams, he collides with another tortured soul, Harper Pitt (Denise Gough), the mentally ill Morman whose husband, Joseph (Russell Tovey), is secretly gay. It’s a convoluted, complex plot, difficult to summarise, but eminently watchable: it all makes perfect sense when it unfolds before our eyes.

I’ve read the play, of course (I’m a theatre studies graduate), and I’ve seen the 2003 mini-series starring Meryl Streep, Emma Thompson and Al Pacino. But this production, directed by Marianne Elliott, is something else: it’s genuinely stupendous. Susan Brown’s performance, for example, is impeccable; she plays six roles with utter conviction. And I find myself especially delighted by Amanda Lawrence’s Angel; she’s mesmerising, and beautifully supported by the Angel Shadows, six black-clad actors, who control her wings as well as performing the lifts and balances that make her seem airborne.

The set is a thing of wonder too, although I’d like to see more long shots in the filming, to help me envisage what the piece looks like as a whole; instead, there are a lot of mid shots and close-ups, which allow me to see the actors clearly but don’t give me a true sense of the space. Still, it’s obviously spectacular, all rotating cogs and zooming rooms, a whole world contained within the confines of the stage.

I’m delighted to have had the chance to see this play; it’s a truly iconic piece, challenging and thought-provoking and entertaining to the end.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

It

 

 

13/09/17

Like many readers, I came to Stephen King’s writing in the early seventies, when his debut novel,  Carrie had just been released. I read a lot of his books and I thought that It was one of his best later efforts, despite the inclusion of a lamentable (what-was-he-thinking?) scene towards the end of the story that seemed to have strayed in from an entirely different genre. And of course I saw the 1990 TV adaptation, memorable for Tim Curry’s spirited performance as Pennywise but not much else. This new release, however, has certainly caught the public imagination. In a year where overall box office takings are dramatically down, the film is already proving to be a major hit with the public.

The town of Derry is plagued by a string of mysterious disappearances – most recently, young Georgie Denborough (Jackson Robert Scott) has chased a paper boat along a rainy gutter and into the clutches of a homicidal clown. The event leaves Georgie’s older brother, Bill (Jaeden Lieberher), riddled with guilt and obsessed with finding his lost sibling. Bill teams up with a bunch of fellow outsiders from his school and together they start to uncover Derry’s infamous history – one that appears to feature a list of similar disappearances going back for centuries…

What made the source novel so good was that King really knew how to write about teenagers – and that’s certainly the element that new director, Andy Muschietti, gets right. There are appealing performances from all of the young actors in this version, especially from Sophia Lillis as Beverly and from Finn Wolfhard, channeling his inner Corey Feldman as motormouthed geek Richie Tozier. Bill Skarsgard’s Pennywise is also fabulously creepy in the early scenes, but inevitably, the more we see of him, the less scary he becomes. This means that I really enjoy the first hour or so, but by the time the young protagonists had pursued their supernatural quarry down into the sewers, I am enjoying proceedings a whole lot less. Somebody should have whispered in Muschietti’s ear the old maxim that less is more. But no, he keeps piling it on, and all the menace he’s worked so hard to create runs straight down the drain. Interestingly, it’s the same problem that plagued his earlier film, Mama.

And it’s not just the over-reliance on effects that niggles here. What passed for plotting back in the eighties is starting to feel decidedly heavy-handed in this day and age. I could have done without the cartoonish gang of bullies terrorising the weaker kids in town (or at least had their over-the-top antics dialled down a couple of notches) and, while I appreciate the whole thing is a metaphor for kid’s coming to terms with their true identities, the points don’t need driving home with an economy-sized sledgehammer. As for the decision to turn the book into two different films, one dealing with the nineteen eighties and another featuring the kids all grown up and returning to Derry to confront their old nemesis? Well, given the success of part one, the creators are doubtless rubbing their hands at the prospect of pulling it off a second time.

Whatever I think about It hardly matters. It’s already a massive success and one that clearly chimes with a wide audience. King will, I’m sure, be pleased at what’s finally been done with his book. After so many cack-handed adaptations of his work (including The Lawnmower Man, from which he made a point of having his name removed) this at least is recognisably his brain child. It’s frankly not the spine chilling masterpiece that many have labeled it as, but maybe you can’t argue with bums on seats.

3.5 stars

Philip Caveney

What Shadows

12/09/17

Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

Chris Hannan’s What Shadows is a thought-provoking piece, spanning the decades between Enoch Powell’s inflammatory ‘rivers of blood’ speech and his demise in the 1990s. Of course, in these times of Brexit and Farage, Powell’s anti-immigration rhetoric is all too relevant, and director Roxana Silbert makes the comparisons clear – there is no hiding from the questions raised by this demanding  play. And very illuminating it is too. There are no easy answers on offer here, no constancies of ‘right’ and ‘wrong.’ Everything is open to interpretation: we’re all unreliable narrators, fragmented selves, telling ourselves stories to appease our consciences. The fragility of our carefully constructed identities is underlined by Wolverhampton war widow Marjorie Jones (Paula Wilcox)’s dementia: who we are is a long way from set.

The play’s conceit is fairly simple: feuding academics Rose (Amelia Donor) and Sofia (Joanne Pearce) team up to write a book examining what it means to be English, trying to make sense of Powell’s impact on the political landscape. Through a series of flashbacks, we are forced to consider numerous viewpoints, to explore contentious ideas and situations exhaustively, from every angle. Does the play redeem Powell? Perhaps to some extent, as an individual. But it never lets him off the hook either: true, we hear his ‘Birmingham speech’ in full, but the other characters are given a right of reply, and his ideas are exposed as ignorance, borne out of fear. Or perhaps that’s just how it sounded to me, my heart giving more weight to the words that chime wth my beliefs.

The characterisation is robust: these are intriguing, fascinating people, fully realised within the text, given space to breathe and come to life by the light-touch direction. Ian McDiarmid’s performance is central to the whole piece: his Enoch Powell is more than just a clever impersonation; it’s an emotionally convincing representation of a man. I like the set too: the trees a reminder of the land itself, the ever-changing projections a subtle metaphor for the transient nature of our lives. Times change. People change. And perhaps whole point of this play is that we need to talk and listen, to try to bridge the gaps between us instead of creating chasms.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

The Limehouse Golem

11/09/17

This Ripper-esque murder mystery, adapted from the novel by Peter Ackroyd and written for the screen by Jane Goldman, has plenty of things to commend it, even if the story seems a little over-familiar. Bill Nighy (in a role originally intended for the late Alan Rickman) plays Inspector John Kildare, brought in by his superiors to investigate a series of grisly murders in the East End of London. Kildare, we quickly learn, has been passed over for promotion because he is a homosexual. The baffling nature of the crimes suggest he’s being offered as some kind of sacrificial lamb, somebody to take the inevitable hit when he fails to get a conviction.

Kildare is also drawn into the trial of former music hall star, Elizabeth Cree (Olivia Cooke), who stands accused of poisoning her husband, John (Sam Reid). The problem is that the dead man is one of the chief suspects for the Golem murders. The others are famous music hall star, Dan Leno (Douglas Booth), George Gissing (Morgan Watkins) and Karl Marx (Henry Goodman): yes, that Karl Marx! Assisted by Constable George Flood (Daniel Mays), Kildare starts his investigation – and quickly discovers that he is wandering into a very tangled web indeed…

So yes, plenty to enjoy here – superlative performances from most of the cast (especially Booth), an intriguing look at the kind of entertainment laid on in the music halls of the period (I have to say, people must have been easily pleased in those days – it’s not exactly comedy gold) and some convincing recreations of Victorian London in all its grubby glory.  And yet, something doesn’t quite gel. The story unfolds slowly and fitfully, feeling longer than it’s one hour and forty nine minute running time. It only generates a full head of steam as it moves towards the final half hour or so. Nighy is always a pleasure to watch, but I couldn’t help feeling he wasn’t really given enough to do here, required mostly to stand around and look perplexed.

It would be criminal to give away the ending, so I won’t – but suffice to say, that I thought it was one of the stronger elements of the film. Rookie director Juan Carlos Medina may not have the lightness of touch needed to make this work perfectly, but it’s nonetheless a decent effort.

Be warned, though, the visceral murder scenes are not for the squeamish.

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Logan Lucky

07/09/17

It’s four years since Steven Soderbergh made the shock announcement that he was retiring from filmmaking. Mind you, he hasn’t exactly been putting his feet up with a cup of cocoa. There’s the little matter of directing two seasons of medical TV show, The Knick (under an alias) and his involvement in the upcoming project Mosaic (of which I know very little, other than it’s a ‘branching narrative’) So there’s the distinct impression that he may have returned to the big screen with Logan Lucky for a quieter life.

In a way, he’s returning to familiar territory, as this is a heist movie, a path he’s already worn fairly smooth. But put aside all thoughts of the slick, ultra cool Oceans 11. As one character observes in Rebecca Blunt’s caustic script, this is more like Oceans 7/11 – a tattered, down-at-heel story set in West Virginia. (John Denver on the soundtrack? Naturally.)

Channing Tatum plays Jimmy Logan, a down-on-his luck former sports star, who loses his job as a bulldozer driver because of an old injury which has left him with a permanent limp. Divorced from his wife Bobbie Jo (Katie Holmes) and with a precocious young daughter to care for, he comes up with a desperate scheme to make money, one that he shares with his taciturn one-armed war veteran brother, Clyde (Adam Driver). The two of them will rob the Coca Cola 600 Race in Charlotte, Virginia, a massive sporting event that generates millions of dollars. Clyde decides that he’s ‘in’ but, to carry out the robbery, the brothers will need to enlist the services of infamous explosives expert, Joe Bang (Daniel Craig, as you have never seen him before). Only problem is, Joe is already doing time for other misdemeanours, so the brothers will need to break him out of jail, do the heist and get him back inside without his presence being missed. Complicated? You bet. Impossible? Well, it’s going to take some planning and, of course, this is exactly the kind of premise that Soderbergh loves to play with.

There’s plenty here to enjoy. Tatum and Driver work well together, even if they are the most unlikely film siblings since Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito. Riley Keough puts in an appealing performance  as Jimmy’s resourceful sister, Mellie, and both Jack Quaid and Brian Gleeson are brilliant as Joe’s dumb-and-dumber brothers, Fish and Sam, who Joe insists must be brought on board to help expedite the robbery. And Craig really does have a whale of a time as the outlandish explosives expert, addicted to eating hard boiled eggs and able to create explosives from the most innocuous ingredients. Gummy Bears? Who knew?

But not everything in the mix is perfect. I could have done without Seth MacFarlane’s oafish Max Chilblane, sporting an English accent that’s almost as bad as the one employed by Don Cheadle in the Oceans movies. Hilary Swank is mostly wasted in the role of a ruthless investigator trying to nail the perpetrators of ‘the Hillbilly Heist’, given little to do but stand around and glower at people and, in my opinion – at just under two hours – the film is about thirty minutes too long. A leaner, meaner narrative would have helped no end here, but perhaps I’m quibbling. This is a very enjoyable way to spend a couple of hours in the cinema and there’s no doubt that Soderbergh has returned to the movie business with a palpable hit.

What next for him, I wonder? Another ‘retirement?’ More TV? And that branching narrative he keeps mentioning? We’ll just have to wait and see.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

American Made

 

06/09/17

It’s often said that truth is stranger than fiction and the story of Barry Seal could have been created simply to demonstrate that adage. This lively period piece, set against the wilder excesses of the nineteen seventies and eighties, is an enjoyable romp from start to finish.

Despite having a name like a welder from Dagenham, Seal (Tom Cruise) is a pilot for TWA, bored enough to stage episodes of ‘turbulence’ to brighten up his day, a man who makes a little pin money on the side by smuggling boxes of Cuban cigars in his luggage. When he is approached by wily CIA man, Monty Schafer (Domhnall Gleeson), and offered a job flying surveillance missions in war-torn Central America, he jumps at the opportunity. His wife, Lucy (Sarah Wright), isn’t keen on the loss of security, particularly as the couple have a young family and a new baby on the way. But Barry manages to persuade her that everything will be just fine. Convincing people that he is on the level is clearly his strongest suit. He soon discovers that his peculiar talents are in demand beyond the CIA. It isn’t long before he’s involved with the likes of Pablo Escobar, and the Medellin Cartel, flying plane loads of cocaine from Colombia to Louisiana and making obscene amounts of money in the process. Inevitably, he gets caught by the DEA. And that’s when things get really weird…

Doug Liman is always an interesting director and he expertly mines this story for maximum laughs, but it’s probably true to say that only Tom Cruise could make such a mendacious lead character as charming as he does. The way it’s presented here, it’s  not as if Seal is always on the lookout for dirty dealings. It’s just that powerful people can’t stop throwing opportunities in his direction and he doesn’t want to let anybody down. The jaw dropping escapades he lands himself in would beggar belief if this were a work of fiction. But I have to keep reminding myself: this actually happened. Okay, a few liberties have been taken with the odd detail here and there, but a quick Google search tells me that most of it is pretty much on the button. What the film does better than anything else is to reveal the shameful levels of corruption that were taking place within the corridors of power during Ronald Reagan’s ‘War On Drugs’ campaign.

This being a true story, there’s no happy ending for Mr Seal, but even his ultimate destruction is so skilfully handled that you come out of the cinema with a big grin on your face. This is enjoyable film making. Strap yourself in for a bumpy, but highly entertaining ride.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

God’s Own Country

06/09/17

God’s Own Country is an extraordinarily accomplished debit from writer/director Francis Lee. Heralded by some critics as ‘Brokeback Yorkshire,’ it tells the story of a young farmer, Johnny (Josh O’ Connor) who’s reeling from the weight of expectation heaped upon him. His father, Martin (Ian Hart) has had a stroke, so all the heavy work falls to Johnny, but Martin still decides exactly how the farm is run, and doesn’t appreciate how unhappy his son is. The two men, along with Martin’s mother, Deidre (Gemma Jones) have an isolated existence, albeit in the beautiful Yorkshire countryside, and Johnny relies on heavy drinking and occasional joyless sexual encounters to get him through the days. He’s inarticulate almost to the point of silence: his grunts and mutterings are not much clearer than the noises made by his beloved animals. He’s definitely not ‘out,’ despite the regularity of his gay encounters. But who would he come out to? His father and grandmother have no idea of who he is or what he wants; he barely seems to know himself.

When Romanian farmhand Gheorghe (Alec Secareanu) is taken on to help with the lambing, Johnny is at first resistant to the newcomer, wary of an interloper, unwilling to be exposed. But the two young men discover a mutual respect, realising they share a lot of the same skills and values, and their tenuous friendship soon takes a sexual turn. And then they fall in love.

Make no mistake, this is a bleak and brutal film, that doesn’t shy away from the realities of farming – nor of sex. We are presented with bodies in many forms: a slick newborn lamb is slapped into breath; a dead calf is kicked savagely away from its lowing mother; the grunting, heaving urgency of two men who want to fuck is contrasted with the devastating helplessness of a disabled man who cannot bath himself.

There is real misery here, and desperation, but there’s hope too, and, ultimately, love. It’s an astonishing first feature and an absolute joy to watch.

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

 

The Foresters Arms

02/09/17

Carlton

Fiftieth anniversaries don’t come around all that often – only every oh…. fifty years. So, of course, as my in-laws are celebrating their golden wedding, the proverbial boat is pushed out on behalf of the happy couple and a rather splendid country retreat in the wilds of North Yorkshire is booked for the weekend. We’re putting on a buffet for the main event but, of course, there still needs to be a meal out and it’s useful if the venue can be reached on foot – so the necessary research is done and it’s discovered that we can eat en famille at The Foresters Arms in the local village, a picturesque community pub. Keith and Lesley, the owners, are a quirky delight: friendly and sardonic in equal measure; there’s a real warmth to this place (even though they’re very hot on the reminders that we should be on time).

There are eight of us to dine and we are quickly seated and our food brought to us. I begin with the smoked bacon and black pudding salad, topped with a runny poached egg, which is absolutely delightful, even if it does have the vegetarians in our group looking aghast. There is also a fine grilled goat’s cheese salad across the table and a lot of bowls of tomato and basil soup, which, since everyone who ordered it has eschewed cream, tastes rather tangier than it might do. Still, that’s their own fault for rejecting the dairy delight.

Next up for me is a steak and ale pie, served with creamy mash. The pie is delicious, deeply flavoursome and topped with a light crispy pastry. Susan goes for the smoked haddock, which comes with a lovely cheesy sauce, rich with the flavour of English mustard. For the vegetarians, there is a very good gnocchi and a vegetable lasagne, both of which are pronounced ‘very tasty.’ Our nephew has ordered a butterfly chicken but it must have fluttered away because I never get a chance to sample it. I should perhaps add that two huge helpings of steamed vegetables are also brought to the table, much more than could ever be consumed by mere humans, but they’re nicely cooked so we do our best.

The Foresters also offers an array of delicious traditional puddings, but there is a rather splendid cake waiting for us back at the cottage, so we head back for that instead. Should you find yourself in the vicinity of Calton and you don’t have a fiftieth anniversary cake waiting for you, maybe you could sample those puddings and let us know what you think? Otherwise, it’s hats off to Keith and Lesley and their staff for feeding us so well and hopefully we’ll be back to celebrate the big 100th in 2067…. we promise to be on time!

4 stars

Philip Caveney