Author: Bouquets & Brickbats

Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes

09/05/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

When author Pierre Boulle published his science fiction novel La Planéte des Singes in 1963, he could have had no idea of the protracted cinematic legacy that awaited it. In 1968, Planet of the Apes starring Charlton Heston was a massive hit and had one of the most iconic final scenes in history. It spawned four (admittedly patchy) sequels and, in the 1970s, became a long-running television series, of which I still have fond memories.

In 2001, Tim Burton attempted a big-screen reboot, but only his staunchest fans would claim that it was in any way a success.

So when, ten years later, director Rupert Wyatt made another attempt to apply the old defibrillators, I had low expectations (which, in retrospect, may have helped). Rise of the Planet of the Apes was a cracking film which centred on a remarkable mo-cap performance by Andy Serkis as Caesar. Two more films (both directed by Matt Reeves) continued in the same vein, rounding off with War for the Planet of the Apes in 2017. Surely there was nothing more to be said on the talking simian subject?

Ahem.

Wes Ball’s Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes begins with a glimpse of Caesar on his funeral pyre and then scampers nimbly onwards for many years, introducing us to a new hero, Noa (Owen Teague). Noa is one of a tribe of chimpanzee hunter-gatherers, who specialise in training eagles, which they send out to catch fish for them. The apes are now the dominant species on the planet and the few humans that Noa encounters are savages who, thanks to a mysterious virus, have lost their ability to speak.

Noa is approaching a coming-of-age ceremony for which he needs a freshly-laid eagle’s egg but, when the one he’s been carrying around with him gets scrambled, he’s obliged to ride out in search of a replacement. He comes up against a gang of aggressive bonobos, under the despotic leadership of Proximus ‘Caesar ‘(Kevin Durand), who has realised that – much like the Romans before him – he can make the name a hereditary title and subvert everything that his illustrious progenitor ever believed in. Noa also meets a wise old orangutan called Raka (Peter Macon) and a human called Mae (Freya Allan), who, unlike most of her species, can speak eloquently. She has a secret mission to carry out in the ruins of the nearby city where Proximus reigns, so Noa and Mae travel there together. They are captured and made to swear allegiance to Proximus. Another captive human, Trevathan (William H. Macy), tells Noa that Proximus is spending much of his time trying to gain entry to a massive underground vault which may just contain a ‘book’ which could restore the power of speech to humanity….

If this is beginning to sound complicated, let me assure you that on the screen it’s even more so – and this gives the story a muddled quality, particularly in the saggy middle section of its lengthy running time. Don’t get me wrong, the film has many qualities to commend it. Like its three predecessors, the world-building here is brilliantly done and the exotic (Australian) locations are awe-inspiring to say the very least. Also, the mo-cap characters are depicted with astonishing nuance and it’s to the film’s credit that, despite a massive cast of simians, I am never confused as to who is who.

As the film thunders into its final stretches there’s a major revelation – and I remind myself that Wes Ball has made no secret of the fact that he sees KOTPOTA as the opening salvo in a trilogy. But looking around the scant audience for this afternoon’s performance, I can’t help wondering if there’s any appetite for it. Maybe this lucrative franchise is finally approaching its extinction. If that’s the case, it’s had a pretty impressive run – and, even if this instalment feels like something of a step down, it’s nonetheless a fantastic visual achievement.

Those with a taste for mo-cap marvels should swing down to their nearest multiplex, choose the biggest screen available and… go ape.

3.3 stars

Philip Caveney

In the Land of Saints and Sinners

07/04/24

Netflix

In recent years, Liam Neeson’s film output seems to have evolved into a series of geri-action brawls, so In the Land of Saints and Sinners comes as something of a breath of fresh air. Not that it doesn’t feature plenty of action – it does. But it’s also a deceptively gentle, almost pastoral, sort of film that has the good sense to show us enough about its many characters to make us care what happens to them.

Written by Mark Michael McNally and Terry Loane, the story takes place largely in the tranquil setting of Glencomcille, County Donegal. It’s 1976 and Finbar Murphy (Neeson) is a pillar of the community, kind, gentle and always ready to help anyone in trouble. He’s best friends with the local garda officer Vinnie (Ciarán Hinds) and enjoys a chaste but tender relationship with his neighbour, Rita (Niamh Cusack). But like many freelancers, Finbar has hidden depths.

Since the death of his wife, he’s worked for local crime kingpin, Robert McQue (Colm Meaney), helping to rid him of his enemies by taking them to a tranquil nook, despatching them with his trusty shotgun and burying them deep. He always plants a tree to commemorate each shooting and there are a lot of saplings in evidence.

But his latest victim (another contract killer)’s final words strike a chord with Finbar and make him think wistfully about abandoning this lucrative sideline and doing something less stressful. He asks McQue to pass on his cleaning-up duties to eager young hotshot, Kevin (Jack Gleeson), and McQue reluctantly agrees. But it isn’t long before the actions of nasty piece of work, Curtis June (Desmond Eastwood), recall Finbar to his former endeavours. Curtis is the brother of Doireann (Kerry Condon), a member of the provisional IRA, who, with two other members of her unit, is currently hiding out in in Glencomcille after fleeing a bombing incident in Belfast. Doireann is a force to be reckoned with and it’s clear that the tranquility of this sleepy suburb is soon to be rudely interrupted…

Though the ever-present threat of violence does inevitably build to a bloody conclusion, what really works for the film are the moments that lead up to it. Neeson is great here, as a kind, caring and avuncular character, always ready to do what has to be done when the situation demands it. He’s surrounded by the cream of Irish talent, not least Condon (a recent Oscar-winner, lest we forget, for The Banshees of Inisherin), who imbues Doireann with a fierce and unrelenting determination to destroy anyone reckless enough to stand in her way. Gleeson’s Kevin is also a revelation, a kid who’s never been treated kindly and who nurtures a hopeless ambition to go to California where, he’s been told, peace and love are currently in the air. Mind you, all the characters in this drama have the resonance of real people and that’s one of the elements that makes it work so effectively.

Director Robert Lorenz uses the majestic landscape of Donegal to the film’s advantage, counterpointing scenes of stark violence with the beauty and serenity of nature. It all makes for something far more nuanced than I’d normally expect to find in this genre – and ensures that the tragedy of its brutal conclusion is all the more affecting.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

The Fall Guy

05/04/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Those of us who have lived on this planet for a substantial number of years will probably have fond memories of the 80s TV series that inspired this film. I have little doubt that director (and former stunt man) David Leitch may himself have found inspiration in it for his own subsequent career. I have vague memories of Lee Majors as Colt Seavers, the guy who ‘makes Eastwood look so good,’ but I’d struggle to remember any storylines from the show.

Leitch’s reinvention is a romp, a big, audacious and sometimes hilarious movie that never hesitates to amp up the silliness of the concept. I can’t remember when I last laughed so much at a screening and I’ve been somewhat dismayed by the dour reviews from other critics who have dismissed the film – as though it has no right whatsoever to have fun. I completely disagree.

In this version, Seavers is played by Ryan Gosling, exuding that sleepy sensuality that has made him such a bankable star. Seavers is in recovery after a disastrous on-set accident and has since turned his (broken) back on the movie business. He now makes his living valeting cars instead of crashing them. He’s also ghosted his former lover, camera woman Jody Moreno (Emily Blunt), and is painfully aware that this was a big mistake.

Out of the blue, Colt gets a call from big-time film producer Gail Meyer (Hannah Waddingham), who wants him in Sydney, Australia to work on her latest would-be blockbuster, Metalstorm. Colt is initially reluctant to comply until he hears that the film in question is Jody’s directorial debut and that she has personally asked for his involvement. Spotting a chance to rekindle that botched relationship, Colt jumps aboard the first available plane.

Once there, Gail informs him that Jody hasn’t really asked for his presence at all – in fact she’s still pretty pissed off with him. The issue is that the film’s star, the egotistical Tom Ryder (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), has gone missing and, without him, the project is as good as dead. Colt knows Tom well: he’s performed stunts for the actor for years. But his attempts to find him lead Colt down a perilous rabbit hole where everybody he encounters is trying to kill him…

Okay, so the plot wouldn’t win any prizes for originality, but writer Drew Pearce manages to keep the cinematic pot bubbling with inventive humour and there’s enough chemistry between Gosling and Blunt to make me care about how things turn out for the two of them. I love the scene where Jody makes Colt apologise for his past behaviour in front of the film’s massive cast – using a loud hailer. There’s also a very funny sequence where Colt is accompanied everywhere he goes by a unicorn. (Don’t ask.) Waddingham is terrific as the bombastic Gail and Taylor-Johnson (who also had a key role in Leitch’s last film, Bullet Train) manages to make Ryder more than just a cardboard cutout. Eagle-eyed viewers may spot David Collins of the Umbilical Brothers (one of our favourite acts at last year’s Edinburgh Fringe) in a small role as a camera technician. Oh and Metalstorm? I could be wrong, but I suspect that this weird looking alien/cowboy mash-up may be Leitch’s way of having a sly dig at (the admittedly po-faced) Dune.

And then, of course, there are the stunts, each one more elaborate and eye-popping than the last. The Fall Guy is, more than anything else, a celebration of the unsung stand-ins who risk life and limb every time they step in front of a movie camera. It’s no coincidence that in one conversation, Colt berates the fact that the Oscars still haven’t managed to offer a gong for the year’s most spectacular stunt, despite plenty of lobbying. That’s something that this film could just tip the balance for.

Naturally, there are obligatory walk-on roles for Lee Majors and his former sidekick, Heather Thomas, playing the least convincing Australian police officers in history. Well, it would be rude not to feature them somewhere, right? I could argue that the film might easily have lost half an hour in its running time and been a leaner, meaner beast, but – that said – I wouldn’t want to be the one to choose which bits to cut out. The Fall Guy is, quite simply, a whole ton of fun.

A series of clips over the end credits revealing how the action sequences were achieved adds yet another layer to the film. I sit there watching stunt players, doubling for actors, pretending to be stunt players. Let’s face it, that’s about as meta as you could reasonably ask for.

4.3 stars

Philip Caveney

Love Lies Bleeding

04/05/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Rose Glass’s impressive debut film, St Maud, had its UK release slap bang in the middle of lockdown and could only be viewed via streaming. As I watched, I was uncomfortably aware of how much better it would look projected onto a giant screen. Glass’s sophomore film, Love Lies Bleeding, would appear (at least on paper) to be a more straightforward beast than its predecessor, a gritty crime thriller set in New Mexico, sometime in the 1980s. But as I might have predicted, it’s anything but. Here, a genre traditionally driven by male protagonists is ingeniously hijacked to become a vehicle that is equal parts horror and queer romance.

Lou (Kristen Stewart) manages a sleazy gym owned by her dodgy and prosperous father, Lou Senior (Ed Harris). She spends much of her time unblocking toilets and fending off the amorous advances of Daisy (Anna Baryshnikov). Then a stranger visits the gym. Jackie (Katy O’ Brian) is a bodybuilder, intent on preparing herself for a big competition to be held in Las Vegas, and determined to be there at any cost. There’s an instant attraction between the two women and it isn’t long before the two of them are having frantic sex and Lou is shooting Jackie up with ampules taken from her illicit supply of steroids. (Those with an aversion to hypodermics will find themselves looking away at this point.)

Matters become more complicated when Lou finds out that Jackie has taken a job at the gun range owned by Lou Senior. Lou really doesn’t have much to do with her old man, because of something that happened to her in the past, something she’d much rather forget about. Matters come to a head when Lou’s much-loved sister, Beth (Jena Malone), is brutally assaulted by her scumbag partner, JJ (Dave Franco). Jackie, popped up on too many steroids, decides to exact bloody revenge…

The story, co-written by Glass and Weronika Tofilska, takes some sinewy twists and turns from this point and, as the complications pile on, so the suspense steadily mounts. An atmosphere of dread is aided and abetted by the inventive cinematography of Ben Fordesman, who exploits the eeriness of those desert locations to the full, while Clint Mansell’s ominous score helps to amp up the tension.

While this is less of a horror film than St Maud, Glass still manages to throw in some startling tropes – Jackie’s performance at the much-anticipated Las Vegas show starts majestically enough but quickly descends into some truly disturbing imagery as the aforementioned steroids exert their influence. Stewart is, as ever, completely convincing in her role and O’Brian, who is also a martial arts instructor (she developed her stunning physique especially for this film), is astonishing. Veteran Ed Harris, sporting some horrific hair extensions, lends his character a palpable malevolence, inviting comparison to the giant insects Lou Senior breeds (and occasionally eats) in his leisure time.

It’s in the film’s final furlong that Glass really swings for the windmills, unleashing an astonishing development that is as surreal as it’s exhilarating. And if the final coda at first feels like a minor misstep, it makes perfect sense once I’ve had a chance to ponder it.

Best of all, this time, there’s the wonderful luxury of watching the film unfold on a screen that’s big enough to contain its super-ripped star. Don’t wait for streaming. See Love Lies Bleeding as it is meant to be viewed.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Macbeth

02/05/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Oh, the irony!

This touring production actually came to Edinburgh, the city where we live. But, for reasons far too tedious to go into, we failed to secure tickets for it – and now a screening of the live show at Cineworld offers us an opportunity to catch it after all.

I still haven’t given up on the hope that one day, somebody out there will put on a version of the Scottish Play in which the Macbeths are in their twenties. I’ve always felt that the hubristic actions of the Macbeths would make so much more sense if the duo were little more than reckless kids – and great actors though they are, Ralph Fiennes and Indira Varma hardly qualify in that department.

But a large helping of humble pie awaits me, because this sweaty, immersive interpretation of Shakespeare’s most ubiquitous play is one of the best versions I’ve seen. While it throws in some unexpected twists in the telling, they are never allowed to feel like gimmicks. Three feral-looking witches (played by Lucy Mangan, Danielle Fiamanya and Lola Shalam) appear in the background of scenes I wouldn’t usually expect to see them in, and lend a wonderfully sinister quality to the proceedings.

I won’t bang on about the story, which just about everybody in the world knows by heart (indeed, there are moments when I feel I could find work as a prompt for this play); suffice to say that both Fiennes and Varma acquit themselves admirably, Fiennes mining the seam of dark humour that underpins the mayhem and Varma absolutely nailing Lady M’s vaulting ambition. I’ve seldom seen the couple’s aspirations spelled out with such absolute clarity.

Ben Turner’s portrayal of MacDuff is riveting, particularly in the scene where he’s told by Ross (Ben Allan) of the murder of his wife and two children, the enormity of the revelation spelled out in Turner’s grief-wracked face. This is such an affecting moment that my own eyes flood with tears.

Finally, there’s the violent confrontation at the end, the warriors dressed in contemporary body armour. So often this play is let down by the sight of actors swiping half-heartedly at each other with rapiers, but the deadly looking machetes brandished in this confrontation are swung around with enough abandon to make me flinch in my seat. All in all, this is a faultless production and the mere glimpses I receive of its atmospheric setting make me wish I’d tried harder to hunt down tickets to the original performance.

If this comes to a cinema near you, I’d advise you to grab a seat at your earliest opportunity.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Nye: National Theatre Live

27/04/24

Cameo Cinema, Edinburgh

National Theatre Live has chosen a propitious subject for its hundredth project. 

Nye, written by Tim Price and directed by Rufus Norris, is the story of Aneurin ‘Nye’ Bevan, the Labour MP who conceived and delivered the National Health Service. I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit that beyond that one incredible achievement, I have no other knowledge of the man’s life, so this feels like the perfect time to find out more about him.

When we first encounter Nye (Michael Sheen), he’s a patient in one of the National Health hospitals he built. Accompanied by his ever-protective wife, Jennie (Sharon Small), and his best friend, Archie (Roger Evans), Nye has just undergone a routine operation for a stomach ulcer but it turns out there’s something much more serious causing the awful pains in his gut. Zonked out on drugs and hallucinating, his hospital bed takes on a magic carpet-like ability to whisk him back down the years to revisit key scenes in his life.

Vicki Mortimer’s ingenious set design is mostly achieved using curtains. They sweep from side to side, they descend from on high and sometimes they even rise magisterially from the floor, to alternatively create new spaces and reveal hidden depths within the Olivier’s expansive stage. Though Sheen remains dressed in his striped pyjamas throughout, there’s never any doubt as to where (and when) a particular memory is located. 

We see Nye in childhood, afflicted by a stutter and brutalised by a sadistic teacher, but uniting his classmates in a show of defiance. We see him and Archie as older children, discovering the wonders of a library where… unbelievably…books can be borrowed and read – for free! And we see an older Nye, a fledgling politician now, arguing with his sister, Arianwen (Kezrena James), over the care of their father, David (Rhodri Meiler), a former miner succumbing to a slow and horrible death from black lung.

Later, Nye crosses swords with a bombastic Winston Churchill (Tony Jayawardena), who is violently opposed to handing out free health care to the oiks. Then, under a new Labour government, he accepts an offer from Clement Attlee (Stephanie Jacob, silently gliding around the stage behind a desk like a Doctor Who villain) to become Minister for Health – and Housing.

If certain elements of Nye’s life have been simplified for dramatic purposes (his huge collection of siblings is whittled down to a single sister, for instance), it matters little. The central premise of this story is so huge that it can’t be overburdened with detail.

Sheen is terrific in the central role, giving Nye an understated and strangely vulnerable charm. Small is also marvellous as the firebrand, Jennie Lee – so good in fact that she should perhaps be given a little more to do, but that’s only a niggle. A sprightly rendition of Get Happy with Sheen singing and dancing his way around a busy hospital ward conveys Nye’s playful, engaging nature.

I love Jon Driscoll’s projection design, which utilises cinematic techniques. A key scene, depicting the death toll on the UK population after the end of the war, features hordes of monochromatic figures shambling helplessly towards the camera, only to morph into actual actors, appearing as if by magic, pleading for our help. Another sequence has Nye being scrutinised by the medical profession, scores of masked faces staring blankly at him across an abyss of prejudice. Who is this upstart who wants to change everything?

The play’s climax is almost unbearably poignant and I’m left sitting in the semi-darkness, tears in my eyes, marvelling at the sheer scale of one man’s glorious ambition. It seems particularly significant that. as I write this, a Tory government (which has spent so much time and effort trying to dismantle Aneurin Bevan’s wonderful achievement) looks set to be finally given its marching orders. Please let that happen!

Nye will doubtless be given other screenings soon, so keep an eye out for more opportunities if you missed it this time around. This is National Theatre Live at its most creative and enjoyable.

4.7 stars

Philip Caveney

When Mountains Meet

26/04/24

The Studio at Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

When Mountains Meet is a very personal piece of gig theatre, composed by musician Anne Wood, who stands centre stage throughout, playing her violin and seeming almost to conduct proceedings.

Directed by Kath Burlinson and Niloo-Far Khan, this is the nostalgic story of Wood’s first meeting with her father. Raised in the Highlands by her single Scottish mother, the twenty-something Anne (Iman Akhtar) is a bold and fearless woman, happily hopping on a plane to Pakistan to try to get to know the man whose DNA she has inherited – and to connect with a culture that is both alien and hers.

Told through a blend of music, spoken word, projection and audience interaction, the production is as complex and disorienting as Wood’s relationship with her dad. It’s a gentle, welcoming piece – there’s a pot of kahwa tea on our table and four little ladoo sweets – but it encompasses some thorny themes, including feminism, poverty and the devastating effects of Partition. Anne’s father (Jamie Zubairi) is a kind and courteous man – a doctor, well-respected by all for his selfless commitment to building hospitals and helping the poor – but he is also unwilling to publicly acknowledge Anne as his daughter, her illegitimacy and creative career both proving sticking points. She is ‘taboo’.

With its cabaret-style seating, the storytellers (Akhtar, Zubairi and Hassan Javed) occasionally wending their way through the tables, this is an inclusive piece, and we’re carried along by its deceptively light tone, smiling as we make paper aeroplanes and hold stones in our hands. Wood’s violin is accompanied by Rakae Jamil’s sitar, Mary Macmaster’s electric harp and Rick Wilson’s percussion, and the result is a seamless fusion of Scottish and Pakistani influences. It all adds up to something very life-affirming: about how big the world is and how small we are; about acceptance, endurance and love.

When Mountains Meet is on tour in Scotland until the end of May, so why not seize the chance to see it if it’s in your vicinity? It’s a foot-tapping, thought-provoking gem.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Challengers

21/04/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Challengers

I’m a huge tennis fan, but I’d be hard pushed to think of a non-documentary film that has ever come close to capturing the verve and excitement of the game. Until now. Luca Guadagnino’s Challengers manages to capture the gladiatorial nature of the sport and at the same time interweaves it with a stylish, sexy drama, which centres on three players and their complicated relationships. Guadagnino is a gifted filmmaker with both Call Me By Your Name and Bones and All as brilliant examples of the art. (I’ve just about forgiven him for his pretentious remake of Dario Argento’s Suspiria.)

The film opens midway through an intense tennis final between Art Donaldson (Mike Faist)  and Patrick Zweig (Josh O’Connor), who are playing under the baleful gaze of Art’s coach – and wife – Tashi Duncan (Zendaya). Art has been a top player but his star is waning; he’s still got the sponsorship deals earning him big money but he’s lost his mojo so, in a desperate attempt to rekindle his ambition, Tasha – who’s only ever really been motivated by her own thwarted obsession with tennis – persuades him to enter an open tournament, feeling that playing a series of lower seeds will be good for his confidence. Patrick is doing rather less well financially, living hand to mouth and at one point reduced to sleeping in his car – but he is playing to win.

From this point, the film flashes effortlessly back to thirteen years earlier, when the two young men, best friends since their first day at boarding school, encounter Tashi, the player everyone’s talking about. Both of them fall head over heels in lust with her and, in a playful scene in the men’s shared hotel room, Tashi announces that she will sleep with whoever wins the match when the two of them play tennis tomorrow…

It would be a crime to reveal much more about the plot from this point, but suffice to say that it takes some pretty labyrinthine twists and turns as it moves forwards and backwards in time, taking in everything that happens along the way.

There are strong performances from the three leads – nobody else gets much of a look-in – and while the story has some strong sexual content, it’s never allowed to feel prurient. It’s clear from the outset that Tasha is the main motivator in this three-way entanglement and she’s not about to be manipulated by anybody. 

Justin Kuritzke’s script is cleverly nuanced and sometimes wickedly funny, while Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross have created an atypical electronic score, one so propulsive that I find my feet tapping along to the urgent rhythms. For the most part it works brilliantly, though I do feel it’s occasionally overused. A special mention must go to the inventive cinematography of Sayombhu Mukdeeprom, particularly in the climactic stages of the final tennis match, which at one point has the camera careering madly back and forth across the court as though its been glued to a tennis ball.

Challengers is a grown up, slick and inventive feature, which is the work of a director at (ahem) the top of his game, set and match. 

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Mitsos – Serial Griller

20/04/24

Brougham Street, Edinburgh

It was way back in November 2017 that we first stumbled upon Taxidi – a charming little Greek restaurant just around the corner from where we live – and were absolutely knocked out both by the standard of the food and the relaxed, friendly atmosphere. It became a regular favourite and somewhere we often recommended to Edinburgh visitors. So, in January of this year, we were somewhat dismayed to see that it appeared to be closing down.

We needn’t have worried. The premises were simply undergoing a transformation into Mitsos – Serial Griller, under the same ownership. We vow to visit as soon as possible, but the best laid plans often go awry, and it’s quite some time before we finally find the opportunity. As the name implies, the little restaurant is now home to a sizeable charcoal grill and, as we enter the familiar premises, we’re greeted by the appetising aroma of roasting meat – though I should add that, as before, there are still plenty of vegetarian options on the menu.

We start with some marinated anchovies. These are quite the revelation. Plump and zesty, infused with lemon, parsley and garlic, they are about a million miles away from the dried up, salty things that come in tins. We eat them (perhaps ‘devour’ would be a more appropriate word) with slices of char-grilled pitta bread, which are are quite a revelation themselves, hot, crispy and so downright moreish that we have to rein ourselves back a little in order to have some to accompany the dishes that follow.

Next to arrive is a grilled chicken breast – marinated in yoghurt and cooked over charcoal. It’s accompanied by mild red onion and a delicious mustard, the meat wonderfully tender and as moist as you could ask for. Then comes the undoubted star of the show, a whole grilled sea bream, perfectly cooked, the flesh quite literally falling off the bone and as light as a feather. This comes with a lemon and coriander dressing, which brings out the delicate flavour of the fish. There’s also a lovely beetroot salad, flecked with manouri cheese and flavoured with mint and garlic, and a side of hand–cut chips. Suffice to say that we make very short work of it all.

We’ve left room for a pudding (naturally), so we’re initially disappointed to find that Mitsos only offers a choice of two, but the disappointment is short-lived because both prove to be delicious. There’s that most traditional of Greek desserts, baklava, this one fabulously sweet and sticky – and there’s Greek yoghurt. I’ll confess that the latter doesn’t sound inspiring, but I soon discover that this version of the classic dish is a cut above – a mouthwatering confection that comprises ultra thick spoonfuls of set yoghurt, heaped with a succulent berry compote and liberally sprinkled with chopped nuts. Good? It’s all I can do not to lick the platter clean!

We leave feeling comfortably full and already planning our next visit. Αντίο, Taxidi. Long live the Serial Griller!

5 Stars

Philip Caveney

Abigail

20/04/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Twelve-year-old Abigail (Alisha Weir) is kidnapped one evening after her ballet class. Sedated, blindfolded and spirited away to an abandoned mansion, she’s held hostage by a ragtag bunch of mercenaries, intent on extorting $50 million from her gangster father (Matthew Goode). But when Daddy doesn’t care enough to cough up, what’s a tweenage girl to do? Sometimes you have to be a little bit naughty…

Although it treads a well-worn path, Abigail is more than just tropes and jump-scares. The script (by Stephen Shields and Guy Busick) is witty and spare, the exposition deftly integrated. Although the characters never stand a chance – their subsequent fall is inevitable – they are three-dimensional and interesting, their shifting dynamic always plausible.

The gang are not exactly innocent victims of their story. They’re all prepared to traumatise a child for nothing more than the mighty moolah. But directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett manage to engage our sympathy for the squad, allowing us the time and space to get to know them and understand their motivations.

Medic and former-addict Joey (Melissa Barrera) is the second lead, and we’re on her side from the outset. She’s aghast to learn that the victim is a child, and forms a bond with Abigail straight away. Ex-cop Frank (Dan Stevens) is harder to like: he feels neither shame nor remorse for the work he does; he’s pragmatic and cool. Rickles (William Catlett), Peter (Kevin Durand) and Dean (the late Angus Cloud, to whom the film is dedicated) are all hapless in their various ways, while rich-kid hacker Sammy (Kathryn Newton) is just in it for the lulz.

But the tiniest mite packs the mightiest sting, and it turns out that there’s much more to Abigail than meets the eye…

Weir is clearly having a whale of a time in this 18-certificate bloodfest: she more than holds her own with the adult actors. She’s the perfect embodiment of innocence and evil, and it’s great to see her refusing to be typecast. Although it’s an undeniably violent film, the action meets the demands of the story and never feels superfluous.

This grisly thriller is a gem, but be warned: the characters’ endings are often a little bit gory.

4 stars

Susan Singfield