Film

Wildwood

25/10/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

As someone who grew up watching the fantasy films of Ray Harryhausen, I’ve long had a soft spot for stop-frame animation – that slow, painstaking process where little model figures are shot and subtly manipulated one frame at a time until persistence of vision gives the semblance of actual motion. Wallace and Gromit? Yes, bring ’em on!

But the release of Laika Animation’s Coraline in 2009 announced the arrival of significant new players in the game. With each successive release, their abilities have grown ever-more sophisticated, ever-more assured until, with Wildwood, they have achieved something jaw-dropping: a fantasy adventure on such a scale that it feels at times as though it’s about to burst out of the screen – a film so full of urgency that it’s sobering to reflect that it represents sixteen years of work for its huge team of animators.

This contemporary tale is set in in Portland, Oregon (where Laika is actually based) and it’s the story of Prue McKeel (Peyton Elizabeth Lee), a truculent teenage girl who lives with her ex-hippie parents in a house on the edge of the titular forest, a place she’s expressly forbidden to visit. She’s often charged with looking after her baby brother, Mac, and is told to ensure that he “stays in the house.” But one day, with her parents away from home, she can’t resist the impulse to take him out on the back of her bike for a hair-raising ride around town – and we start to get a feel for the scope of the film as we see a pretty accurate representation of the Pacific Northwest’s coolest city. Along the way, Prue bumps into Curtis (Jacob Tremblay) a video-game enthusiast she has always dismissed as an annoying nerd. He insists on tagging along with the siblings when they go to visit a local playground.

It’s at this point that Mac is abducted by a huge flock of crows and carried off into the forbidden woods. Prue and Curtis have no other option than to follow in hot pursuit, and it’s here that they discover an entire world of talking animals…

And if, so far, this sounds like yet another Narnia-influenced tale, well don’t be misled. Wildwood has a dark, disturbing narrative and the film has a 12A certificate. Parents expecting a joyful Pixar-style experience should be warned that some younger viewers may find much of what’s on offer here quite unsettling. For example, the film begins with the suicide of a young boy – he’s the son of Alexandra, the dowager governess (voiced by Carey Mulligan), and the sequence provides the key to unlocking the adventure. What’s more, some later scenes involve a massive battle in the forest between the various factions that dwell there and some of the close combat is unapologetically savage in nature. So if you’re taking youngsters along, please ensure they can handle it.

What makes Wildwood stand head and shoulders above what’s gone before is its epic sense of scale. We are dazzled by incredibly realistic model work depicting vast landscapes, aerial views of towns and cities and labyrinthine underground lairs. And this time out, Laika, under the direction of Travis Knight, have used CGI to augment the traditional stop-frame. Where previously we could only have a limited number of animated figures in any particular shot, now there can be hundreds, thousands of them, each one rendered so perfectly that at times I feel that I can’t possibly be looking at beings built from modelling clay, but at real characters with movements and expressions as complex as anything in our world. (Anyone sitting near me during the screening I attended must have heard me gasping aloud every few minutes. Sorry, but I just couldn’t help myself.)

It’s been a long road to get to this point but I suspect that Laika have just set a new gold standard for stop motion. The film has a budget of a hundred million dollars and I don’t know what chance it has of ever earning earning back that investment, but all that dedication, initiative and experimentation is up there in every frame. I urge everyone reading this to go and see this incredible film at your earliest opportunity. The word ‘masterpiece’ can sometimes be overused but in this instance, I can’t think of a more appropriate word. I just wish Ray Harryhausen had lived long enough to see it.

Oh, and if you’d like a quick glimpse at how such wonders are achieved, stay in your seat for a little while as the credits roll.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Tenzing

23/10/26

Apple TV

When I was a young lad at primary school in the 1960s, my teachers were forever banging on about an event that had happened more than a decade earlier. A British expedition, we were proudly told, had ‘conquered’ Everest in 1953 and the first man to climb to its peak was called Edmund Hillary. There was no mention back then that Hillary was actually a New Zealander – and even fewer references were made of a certain Sherpa Tenzing, who had ‘accompanied’ him. The implication was that Tenzing was little more than a servant, someone who set up the equipment and made the meals – but of course he was much more than that, an equal climbing partner, whose skill and tenacity helped guide the expedition to success.

It’s shameful that it has taken over seventy years to set the record straight. This Apple Original film, written by Luke Davies and directed by Jennifer Peedom, offers a more truthful account of the historic climb and it has Tenzing Norgay (Genden Phuntsok) as its central character. We first meet him as a young boy (Sandrup Dorje Lama) staring up at the peak of ‘his’ mountain, Chomolungma (as it’s called in Tibetan) ,shortly before having an encounter with legendary climber, George Mallory (Johnny Flynn), a brief event which sets Tenzing on tbe long path to his eventual role in that 1953 triumph.

In between these two events, we witness Tenzing (now played by Tenzin Dalha) as he relentlessly goes about securing a place on successive expeditions, aided and abetted by his wife, Dawa (Thinley Lhamo) – but by the time he finally has the opportunity to embark on that eventful climb led by John Hunt (Willem Dafoe), he’s a widower with two young daughters. It’s on this climb that Tenzing meets and befriends Edmund Hillary (Tom Hiddleston).

The era has been faithfully recreated and, while the jaw-dropping climbing sequences were actually shot in New Zealand, you’d never know that it wasn’t Nepal. Of course, in a time when there are literally lines of people queuing up to ascend the infamous world’s highest mountain, it’s staggering to witness the gruelling nature of that fateful expedition and the ever-changing fortunes that determine who will be the duo chosen for the final ascent. The growing friendship between Tenzing and Hillary is nicely portrayed as we see the mutual admiration and respect the two men have for each other – and the film makes no attempt to disguise the unfair treatment that the Sherpas often received from their white employers.

Handsomely produced and occasionally downright thrilling, Tenzing hasn’t received much in the way of a theatrical release, but it’s right there on Apple TV whenever you’re in the mood for some vertiginous viewing.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Clayface

23/10/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

DC’s ever more frantic attempts to revive its ailing superhero franchise takes an interesting turn with that most unlikely of things, a comic book movie with an 18 certificate. While it’s still set in Gotham City (with Liverpool standing in on this occasion), there’s not a caped crusader in sight, and not so much as a glimpse of spandex. The film takes a minor character that originated in a detective comic in1940 (and which was later featured in a Batman animation) and makes him the star turn. Well, Todd Phillips’ Joker took a similar approach and that reaped big rewards at the box office, so worth a punt, yes?

Very much so. This is the most fun I’ve had with a DC film in a very long time – though I should perhaps add that I’m using the word ‘fun’ loosely. More squeamish viewers may find themselves traumatised.

Our titular villain first appears as Matt Hagen (Tom Rhys Harries), a handsome young actor who (much like Harries himself ) appears to be on the verge of major stardom. All fired up after receiving an Oscar nomination, he heads off with his best friend, Corey (Joshua James), for a hedonistic weekend away and, on a disco dance floor, he encounters and romances Mia (Joana Ribeiro). But it turns out she’s the girlfriend of vicious crime boss, Markos (David Dencik), who takes a very dim view of this flirtation and, to teach Matt a lesson, decides to rearrange his face with a razor – a scene which pulls no punches.

Matt is snatched from the heights and plummeted into the depths of despair. With his handsome features mutilated, he loses his agent, Hildie (Nancy Carroll), and his manager, Frank (Eddie Marsan), in swift succession. Attempts at facial surgery are not successful. In desperation, Matt turns to Caitlyn Corr (Naomi Ackie), a scientist who has been working on a breakthrough nanite procedure which she believes can heal damaged skin cells. At first she’s reluctant to use her experimental techniques on Matt, but she can see that he’s desperate so, throwing caution to the wind, she starts some trials.

The first results are very encouraging, almost miraculous – but then Matt begins to realise that his new skin cells seem to react to his different moods. And when he’s angry…

With a screenplay by Mike Flanagan and Hossein Amini and astute direction by James Watkins, Clayface is compelling stuff. While it has no interest in exploring those comic book links, it does step confidently into the world of body horror. Some of the strongest sequences here recall the work of veteran directors like David Cronenberg and Brian Yuzna, utilising gnarly practical makeup effects and dollops of gore. An episode set in a public toilet on an airplane, which involves turbulence, fused eyelids and a pair of nail scissors, has me literally squirming in my seat.

As the story continues and Matt’s abilities develop to the point where he is able to replicate the features of other characters, I find I’m willing to overlook the fact that he can somehow also create perfect copies of their clothing (er, how, exactly?) because the twisty-turny sequences are so outrageous and so perfectly timed I barely have time to think about it.

A warning, though: that 18 certificate is there for a reason and it’s pushed to the limit.

4.3 stars

Philip Caveney

Hadestown

18/10/26

Dominion Cinema, Edinburgh

For a very long time now, my musical-mad daughter has been urging us to check out Hadestown, declaring it to be ‘the best musical ever.’ Of course, seeing it would necessitate a trip to that London and the eye-watering cost of a couple of seats in the West End, so this cinematic release, featuring the original Broadway cast, really couldn’t come at a better time. As ever, the Dominion cinema offers the most luxurious surroundings for watching it.

Based on the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, this two-act musical is set in the titular town, situated somewhere on the railway line to hell. (As any estate agent will tell you, location is everything.) The place has an energetic nightclub feel with a superb live band fully integrated into the action. Our master of ceremonies is Hermes (André De Shields), an elderly gentleman who never allows his years to get in the way of his spectacular vocal abilities. He introduces us to the various players. Orpheus (Reeve Carney) is a humble barman and musician, who has a winning way with a song, while Eurydice (Eva Noblezada) is a wandering woman seeking refuge and a place to belong. Orpheus is, of course, instantly smitten with her.

Then there’s the high-spirited Persephone (Amber Gray), enjoying her annual holiday from her all-powerful husband, Hades (Patrick Page). She loves him but he can be rather demanding. Persephone is all ready to kick up her heels and make a song and dance about her short-lived liberation. But wouldn’t you just know it, Hades unexpectedly drops by for a quick visit and his avaricious gaze falls upon Eurydice – and pretty soon she’s taking that downward journey to the Underworld…

Everybody knows the central story and its sad conclusion, so it’s to this production’s credit that it all feels so fresh, so spirited, so unfettered. With both book and blues-inflected songs by Anais Mitchell, this takes off at a gallop and never falters, delivering a mix of uptempo belters and soaring ballads with absolute authority. Carney’s lilting falsetto offers genuine thrills and he’s nicely contrasted with Page’s deep baritone, which is particularly effective on Why We Build the Wall – a song with eerie connotions to Trump’s America, even though this show originated way back in 2006 and had a long, slow transition to its first Broadway run in 2019.

It’s clear from glimpses of the spellbound audience at this recent reunion that Hadestown’s audience is predominantly young and that they are avidly hooked on every detail, applauding exuberantly when Page manages a dance routine despite the orthopedic boot he’s wearing after a recent accident. Choreographer David Neumann has the whole cast leaping and whirling with precision across the crowded stage and special mention should be made of the three Fates (Bella Brown, Madeline Charlemagne and Allie Daniel), who all have voices to beat the band. Rachel Hauck’s ingenious set, which makes full use of its circular design really comes into its own during the centrl couple’s journey through the underworld.

The only real criticism I have of this filmed version, directed by Brett Sullivan, is the absence of an interval between the two acts, which means that those in need of a quick toilet break do risk missing a few minutes of the action before they can get back to their seats. But that’s a minor niggle. Hadestown is an exquisite, inspired and downright thrilling musical experience that revitalises a familiar story – and it’s easy to see why it has acquired such a devoted following.

While I hesitate to agree with my daughter that this is the ‘best ever’, it’s certainly up there as a contender and I’m really glad she put me on to it – and if it shuffles its way into a cinema near you, don’t miss your opportunity to see it.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

The Social Reckoning

11/10/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Sixteen years after The Social Network, this belated (sort of) sequel takes another look at the Facebook phenomenon. David Fincher’s original was a zippy, fast-paced affair, but The Social Reckoning is a much darker beast, one that carries with it a powerfully pessimistic view of online media and asks some uncomfortable questions about its potential future. Original screenwriter Aaron Sorkin takes on the directorial duties and Jeremy Strong steps gamely into a role that Jesse Eisenberg clearly had no wish to revisit. Where the first film’s depiction of Mark Zuckerberg has him as a plucky but flawed underdog, here he’s just plain weird, a man completely fixated on his brainchild and its ratings, with no apparent concerns for any harm it might be causing to the billions of people that use it.

Someone who is concerned is Facebook employee Frances Haugen (Mikey Madison), who in 2019 joins the Civic Integrity Programme, truly believing in FB’s potential as a democratic mouthpiece. She is appalled to discover that a former friend, Kayleigh – once a carefree, like-minded young woman – is now an active member of a far-right group that she discovered on the site. (We’ve been introduced to the new Kayleigh in the film’s opening sequence, shouting vehement racist abuse at the Black and Latina police officers who come to her aid after her car breaks down.)

The more Frances searches for answers the worse things get, and her attempts to discuss the matter with her colleagues are given short shrift. She ends up contacting Wall Street Journal Investigative Reporter, Jeff Horwitz (Jeremy Allen White), who is currently looking into the website’s fact-checking procedures.

Frances is at first determined to keep her involvement with the newspaper secret but, as the years steadily march by, moving through the global pandemic towards 2021’s violent insurrection at the White House, Frances begins to realise that she is going to have to stick her head above the parapet in order to make herself heard…

While this misses Fincher’s visual command, it does feature Sorkin’s clever and distinctive dialogue, which – while it might bear little resemblance to real conversation – provides plenty of ironic chuckles and edgy asides. Allen White plays his role straight, a guy so unfamiliar with the digital age he can’t even use his car’s satnav, while Madison delivers an impressive study of the nervy, self-conscious Frances, slowly emerging from her self-protective shell.

There’s also a wonderful sequence where the news of the invasion of the White House plays out on dozens of screens while everybody in FB HQ is begging Zuckerberg to suspend the President’s account – but he really, REALLY has to think about it for a very long time before complying.

This is an uncompromising and well-intentioned film with a powerful message at its core – and I’m all too aware of the ironic fact that, once I’ve finished editing this review, Facebook will be the first place it’s shared. But Sorkin does ask some terrifying questions about Social Media and where it’s doing to us.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Uprising

10/10/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Director Paul Greengrass has established his considerable reputation with a series of action films based around relatively recent events – so it’s an unusual choice for him to head into the dim and distant past for inspiration. But The Uprising, a gritty, mud-splattered account of the Peasant’s Revolt (Greengrass also wrote the screenplay) features all his signature moves, replete with propulsive and immersive set-pieces shot in that unmistakable ‘shaky-cam’ style.

It’s 1381 and ‘Merrie England’ is down in the dumps after a plague that has halved the population and a series of overseas wars that are costing King Richard II (Woody Norman) an absolute packet. He’s only fourteen years old and, when we first encounter him, he’s being haunted by nightmares of something bad approaching. When it comes to ruling, he leaves most of the big decisions to his advisors, who are led by Treasurer Hales (Tom Hollander). Looking to raise some ready funds, Hales eschews the idea of going to the nobles for a handout (they’re sure to kick up a fuss) and decides instead to impose a poll tax on the commoners. (I know, I know, quelle surprise.)

One such commoner is ‘Ploughman’ (Andrew Garfield), who has recently lost his wife and two children to the plague and is feeling pretty desolate. He’s reluctant to give away any more of the pittance he’s earning. When armed men come to his village demanding money (and threatening to take wives away to use as prostitutes when their husbands can’t find any spare dosh), something inside Ploughman snaps – and it turns out he can be pretty handy with that hooked scythe he carries with him. The armed men are quite literally cut down to size and it isn’t long before Ploughman is being followed by lots of other disgruntled commoners. Soon they have joined up with a bigger band of travellers, led by former soldier, Wat Tyler (Cosmo Jarvis), and seditious monk, John Ball (Jamie Bell). The ever-growing tribe marches towards London, where they aim to present their demands to The King…

The Uprising is a grimy, dingy affair that paints a picture of a nation betrayed by the ruling classes. It’s rather worrying that the ensuing events feel so familiar and that the mounting anger and savagery – and the ultimate betrayal suffered by those seeking justice – feels somehow inevitable. But Greengrass manages to milk the events for every bit of tension they contain and the climactic confrontation has me holding my breath as it builds to a thrilling climax.

While this is a story dominated by its male protagonists, there’s also a compelling turn by Thomasin McKenzie as Alyce, a young woman with her own reasons to harbour resentment towards her despotic rulers, and from Katherine Waterston as Richard’s mother, who conveys the woman’s inner conflict through a series of glacial expressions.

While this can hardly be described as an uplifting couple of hours at the cinema, it’s nonetheless a gripping (and, according to Wikipedia, pretty accurate) account of a historical event that for most of us has been allowed to drift into obscurity. But you’ll doubtless leave the cinema reflecting, as I do, that similar iniquities have been allowed to transpire again and again across the centuries and that it’s always the have-nots who are destined to pick up the tab.

This is hard, relentless cinema but Greengrass is an accomplished director who knows exactly what he wants to say and doesn’t hesitate to ram his message home with the impact of a medieval battering ram.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Digger

02/10/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Digger appears to have polarised the critics. Several of the major players have delivered two-star reviews and grumbled that the film is ‘pretentious’ and ‘a holy mess.’ Only a few have been more positive in their appraisals. Perhaps that explains why I go along to this IMAX showing with such low expectations, but it fails to account for the fact that I enjoy the film as much as I do. For me, it’s wonderful to see Tom Cruise stepping away from the action-movie arena he’s been fixated on for so long, to work on something more unconventional. There’s been talk of an Oscar nomination, and I won’t be a bit surprised it that comes to pass; to my mind, he should have already won one back in 1999 for his performance in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia.

Here he plays Digger Rockwell, an obscenely-rich oil magnate, living alone in a country house with his faithful cat, Maggie, a scrawny beast who appears to be knocking at death’s door. Digger is the owner of many oil-drilling platforms in the Arctic and he’s intent on plundering every last drop he can get before his licences come up for renewal. When he’s warned about the possibility of an impending environmental catastrophe, he glibly shrugs the matter off, even though his resident expert, Ganesh (Riz Ahmed), has been warning him about this for years.

When the unthinkable actually happens, Digger is called in to help US President Compson (John Goodman) to deal with the developing situation. Compson is ill with (as he puts it himself) ‘ass cancer’ and isn’t really firing on all cylinders. (Remind you of anyone?) Digger falls back on his preferred method of doubling down and telling it like it is…

The film begins as a kind of Kubrickian black comedy, à la Dr Strangelove, with the various characters flailing about as the stakes rise ever higher – but something mysterious is going on behind the scenes, with bewildering cutaways to something that suggests that not everything is as straightforward as it appears. And who is the mysterious Kenny (Jesse Plemons), who keeps turning up and asking Digger such strange questions?

Directed and co-written by two-times Oscar winner Alejandro G. Iñárritu, Digger keeps quite a lot up its sleeve and it would be criminal to reveal any more about where this story is actually headed. Let me just say this: be prepared to have your brains well and truly scrambled. Cruise immerses himself in the character(s) he plays and he’s backed up by a stellar cast of actors including Sandra Hüller and Michael Stuhlbarg in what amount to little more than cameo roles. The film’s main premise examines the ways in which so many heinous, hubristic characters are elevated to heroic levels long after their deaths: how villains are neatly regenerated as heroes.

Pretentious? Maybe it is, but I for one would rather see a film that swings for the fences (and maybe even misses a couple of them in the process) than happily pursues something we’ve seen a hundred times before. The small audience at the screening I attend would suggest that the naysayers are having their inevitable effect on Digger‘s takings at the box office, but I truly believe that this film attempts – and largely accomplishes – something really extraordinary.

Why not go along and judge for yourselves? And yes, I appreciate the irony of one critic telling you to ignore the warnings of others, but I have always valued originality and, to my mind, this film has it in… ahem… spades.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Sense and Sensibility

25/09/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

If there’s a Jane Austen adaptation available, of course I’m going to see it. The advance press hasn’t been too kind to this latest version, scripted by Diana Reid and directed by Georgia Oakley, but that doesn’t deter me. Am I expecting to love it as much as I do the book? Of course not. Do I think it’ll measure up to Ang Lee and Emma Thompson’s superb Oscar-winner? Again, no. But it’s thirty-one years (THIRTY-ONE YEARS!) since Thompson and Kate Winslet represented the titular traits so it seems reasonable to revisit Austen’s first-published novel and open it up to a whole new audience.

Daisy Edgar-Jones and Esmé Creed-Miles are credible as the older Dashwood sisters, Elinor and Marianne, whose fortunes have taken a sudden tumble following their father’s death. Their half brother, John (Tom Brooke), has inherited Norland Park and, egged on by his ghastly wife, Fanny (Stacy Martin), not only declines to offer his stepmother (Caitríona Balfe) any money but also wastes no time in turfing his three sisters out of the only home they’ve ever known. Thirteen-year-old Margaret (Bodhi Rae Breathnach) is distraught.

Enter kind-hearted distant relative, Mrs Jennings (the ever-fabulous Fiona Shaw), whose son-in-law, Sir John Middleton (Turlough Convery), just happens to have a spare cottage on his Devonshire estate. It’s a bit of a comedown for the Dashwoods but they’re grateful to have somewhere to go, not to mention relieved to escape from Fanny’s mean-spirited carping. All would be well – if it weren’t for Elinor’s unspoken attachment to Fanny’s brother, Edward (George MacKay). Devonshire is an awfully long way away from Sussex…

Still, they soon settle down in Barton Cottage, enjoying the beaches and beautiful countryside and befriending the taciturn Colonel Brandon (Herbert Nordrum). And when Marianne falls (quite literally) for the charming, raffish Willoughby (Frank Dillane), it seems her future, at least, is secured.

Except, sadly, it’s not.

The three sisters are well-cast, and I like the easy, naturalistic way they speak to one another in private. They’re tactile, which cements the realistic nature of their relationship, and their mutual care is palpable. Elinor’s sense (rationality) and Marianne’s sensibility (emotionality) are heightened, the juxtaposition between the two brought into sharp focus. Arguably this is a tad overdone but I don’t really mind.

Reid’s script foregrounds the perilous position of unmarried women in the Regency period, so that we can clearly see what’s at stake for Elinor and Marianne – and how much Elinor is prepared to give up for her principles. I love the party scenes: the dancing is far less mannered and restrained than we’re used to seeing in period drama; instead it’s wild and unfettered, an escape valve for all the lust and passion the characters are forced to repress. I also love the the atmospheric soundtrack by Roger Goula, which draws upon traditional English folk music.

Less successful are the numerous outside scenes. Austen’s interiority is integral to her books, reinforcing the constrained nature of her heroines’ lives. Although the cinematography (shot in 35mm by Arnaud Potier) is undeniably gorgeous, the emphasis on vast woodlands and open vistas belies that somewhat, suggesting an almost Brontë-like connection with the wider, natural world.

In addition, some of the minor characters are criminally underused, most notably Eliot Sumner’s Mr Palmer and Chloe Pirrie’s Lady Middleton. These two intriguing personalities are nicely set up and then given nowhere to go. And don’t speak to me about the barely-contextualised duel, which appears out of nowhere and jars horribly with the rest of the film.

Overall, however, I quite enjoy this iteration of Sense and Sensibility. It’s lively and engaging and successfully embodies the heart of Austen’s novel.

Whatever your persuasion, try to bypass any prejudice. You know it makes sense to see this film.

Sorry (not sorry).

3.8 stars

Susan Singfield

Hope

25/09/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Billed as ‘the most expensive Korean film ever,’ Hope is a two-and-a-half-hour movie with a brilliant ninety-minute action thriller wrapped up inside it.

We’re in South Korea, somewhere near the Northern border, and police chief Beom-seok (Hwang Jung-min) is having a bad day. Something big and deadly has been leaving a trail of havoc around the quiet suburb where he lives. At first, he assumes that some kind of wild animal is responsible but whatever is killing livestock and people with equal abandon doesn’t appear to be eating any of the meat. Beom-suk and a local hunter, Sung-ki (Zo In-sung), set off separately trying to track down the culprit, but it’s some considerable time before we discover that the beast isn’t a bear or a tiger but an extra terrestrial.

Then a fearless shotgun-toting policewoman, Sung-ae – played by KPop star, Jung Ho-yeon – drives at reckless speed to Beom-sok’s rescue, prompting a series of propulsive chase sequences. While these are splendidly filmed and at times breathlessly exciting, the action keeps being interrupted as the plot heads off into some odd cul de sacs.

A long sequence where an old man tells Sung-ae about a bout of diarrhoea he had in the woods is a notable culprit – it’s clearly supposed to be howlingly funny but really isn’t – and scenes depicting an alien autopsy also manage to go on far longer than is needed. The aliens themselves are created with CGI and this element too is unpredictable, swinging wildly between impressive and shonky.

And perhaps most puzzling of all, why would the lead aliens need to be played by Michael Fassbender and Alicia Vikander, since they don’t look anything like the actors and only speak using an invented language with English subtitles? Somewhere, there must be a couple of under-employed voice actors shaking their heads in disbelief at the missed opportunity.

Director Hong Na Jin makes everything look astonishing in that glossy, wide screen way, and there’s enough in this to make me think the man is a talent. But it’s only as the film ends that I realise Hope is only Part One of something much bigger. Whether I’ll be tempted out to Part Two is a matter of conjecture, but action fans will get a suitable fix here. Just be prepared for the less-assured elements.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

NT Live: The Misanthrope

22/09/26

Dominion Cinema, Edinburgh

This is Molière as you’ve never seen him before – unless, of course, you witnessed earlier iterations of Martin Crimp’s adaptation in 1996, 1999 or 2009. The key difference in 2026 is that there’s much more at stake.

The French playwright’s 1666 comedy of manners satirised French salon culture, where superficial manners and flattery were social currency. His aristocratic protagonist, Alceste, rails against the hypocrisy, refusing to play by the generally-accepted rules. But in King Louis XIV’s court, his principles cost him everything: a lawsuit, his social standing – and the love of his life.

Directed by Indhu Rubasingham, the National Theatre’s new version replaces Alceste with Alice (Sandra Oh), a Booker-winning novelist known for her bold political opinions. And, while previous productions of Crimp’s Misanthrope were criticised for a lack of jeopardy (Michael Billingham famously wrote that he could see this Alceste being offered “a Guardian column or a spot on Channel 4), the times have changed. Cancellation culture and social media pile-ons are very real threats. Alice really is risking her neck.

It’s astonishing how apposite the plot is. Alice is supposed to be travelling to Berlin to collect a literary prize of €200k – but the press have unearthed an old interview where she expresses an opinion at odds with current thinking. Her playwright friend, John (Paul Chahidi), urges her to issue a generic apology but Alice refuses. Why should she bow to public pressure and lie about how she feels? If the prize committee renege on their deal, then so be it. She has her film star lover, Stefan (Tom Mison), to comfort her, doesn’t she?

Well, to a point…

Stefan is everything that Alice usually despises: vain and vacillating, with no hidden shallows, let alone depths. He’s charming and handsome, attentive and sweet, but he’s hardly someone to rely on. Just ask his ex-wife, Elaine (Jemima Rooper), who has to dash to London from Paris when Stefan fails to collect their kids from school.

When superfan Esmée (Imogen Elliott) asks for an autograph in her battered copy of Alice’s critically-acclaimed novel, John persuades Alice to give the girl (“It’s woman, actually”) a hearing. Predictably, Esmée has a manuscript of her own that she’d like Alice to read. Like Alceste before her, Alice offers a scathing critique of the deliciously dreadful prose – with terrible consequences. Esmée, it transpires, is an influencer with hordes of followers. If Alice was in hot water before, she’s about to feel the temperature rise…

Crimp’s script is witty and lyrical, written in rhyming verse to mirror Molière’s original. It’s so cleverly done that it takes me a while to notice; when I do, it’s to laugh out loud at some of the more audacious pairings (“We’ve fucked it / why not just sit back and deconstruct it?” or “People will praise a pile of shit / if they’ve dressed up and paid fifty quid for it.”). The juxtaposition of highbrow and lowbrow works really well, reinforcing the theme of a social veneer obscuring the gritty truth.

Rubasingham’s direction is pacy and fluid; the ninety-minute running time flies by, reflecting Alice’s almost manic mood. Robert Jones’ set reveals a series of drawing rooms – each more stifling than the last – until the final party scene, where the walls disappear and scores of chandeliers drop from above. Alice’s isolation is emphasised by Tim Lutkin’s lighting, a single spot highlighting her variance from societal norms, as everyone around her is dressed in Baroque costume while she’s still wearing her customary trouser suit.

Oh is fabulous in the central role, giving us a complex character we can both admire and despise. Cannily, Crimp never reveals what Alice’s objectionable opinion was, so we’re not able to judge her based on our own position. Instead, we have to consider the abstract premise: what is the point in demanding outward conformity to a set of beliefs that are not truly held? And who are the gatekeepers deciding what’s acceptable?

Once again, I find myself mentally thanking whoever it was who came up with the idea of live-streaming theatre. I love being able to see London shows for the price of a film ticket – and Edinburgh’s luxurious Dominion Cinema offers a real sense of occasion.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield