Film

The Batman

04/03/22

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Director Matt Reeves’ modest ambition for The Batman was to make ‘the best Batman movie yet.’

Well, he hasn’t done that – but he’s certainly made the longest. Weighing in at a bum-numbing two hours and fifty minutes, it brings to mind the conviction that while ‘less’ is often ‘more’, ‘more’ usually equals ‘less’ when it comes to movies. And, while this just about scrapes four stars in its present bloated form, it would have scored much higher with some judicious editing. I mean, like, excising fifty minutes.

What is it about Batman that makes directors keep returning to that oft-plundered well? The fact that this is a comic-book hero who doesn’t have any super powers is always appealing, and there’s that delicious interplay between the vigilante who takes the law into his own hands and those misguided fools who see him as a hero. In this regard, The Batman feels a lot more nuanced than many of its predecessors, but it’s also sobering to think that the best film of the franchise is the one that he doesn’t even feature in.

Joker, thanks for asking.

Mind you if you thought Christopher Nolan’s depiction of Gotham City was dark, prepare to turn the palette down several notches. Reeves’ Gotham (shot in studios all over the UK) is filmed in tones of obsidian and anthracite. In this Gotham, it never seems to stop raining and the city is ruled by corrupt public officials, who gleefully take bribes and exploit the working classes for their own enrichment. (Remind you of anywhere?)

It’s Hallowe’en and a masked villain called The Riddler (brilliantly played by Paul Dano, though we don’t actually see his face until late on in the proceedings) is gleefully murdering those in power, who have allowed their standards to slip. Batman/Bruce Wayne (Robert Pattinson), though hated by most of the police force, is invited to investigate the crimes by Commissioner Gordon (Jeffrey Wright), the only cop who trusts him.

The Riddler is leaving cryptic clues at the scenes of the crime and Batman is good at deciphering them. In the course of his investigations, he comes into contact with Selina Kyle (Zoe Kravitz), crime kingpin, Carmine Falcone (John Turturro), and The Penguin (an unrecognisable Colin Farrell, hidden beneath layers of latex and sounding for all the world like Robert De Niro).

As the proceedings unfold, it becomes clear to Bruce that his own father, whose murder initiated Bruce’s transition into the Caped Crusader, might not have been as innocent as his son has always supposed. Batman also comes to realise that there are many people out there who follow his vigilante tactics with relish – and who would really like to be him.

And, as loyal butler, Alfred (Andy Serkis) is quick to point out, Bruce’s father might have done the wrong thing – but for very sound reasons.

There’s a lot here that I really like. It offers a much more interesting vision of DC’s premier hero than we’re used to seeing – but too much time is spent wandering along dark alleyways that don’t advance the plot enough. It’s only as I’m starting to grow impatient with the film that it finally coalesces and ramps up the suspense, as it heads into a vaguely apocalyptic climax that is weirdly prescient and also, in a strange way, uplifting. Reeves has already proven his worth with the likes of Cloverfield and his astute retooling of the Planet of the Apes trilogy – but, inevitably, The Batman just feels too long for its own good.

This is a shame because Pattinson really works in the lead role (for once, I actually believe that nobody would suspect his Bruce Wayne of being Batman, since the two personas are so different). Kravitz is also compelling in the Catwoman role, and I fully expect to see her return to it. A nifty coda shows us exactly where Reeves plans to go next and, given the projected casting for the next lead villain, I have to confess I’m suitably intrigued.

But please, Matt, next time around… can we just have a bit less?

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Cyrano

25/02/22

Cineworld, Edinburgh

The story of Cyrano de Bergerac is a rather unlikely one; nonetheless, over the years it has fired the imaginations of film and theatre directors alike, sometimes with spectacular results. In 1990, it brought director Jean-Paul Rappeneau and his lead actor, Gerard Depardieu, much acclaim in a movie adaptation of Edmond Rostand’s source play. And, a few years earlier than that, Steve Martin had already turned it into the much-admired contemporary comedy, Roxanne.

In both films, of course, Cyrano was a character with a comically oversized nose – something that his adversaries mentioned at their peril.

In Cyrano, director Joe Wright adopts a different approach. The hero of his story, though a brave and valiant soldier, is small of stature; and, as portrayed by Peter Dinklage, this simple premise turns out to be a masterstroke, the character’s inner turmoil told mainly through the cleverly nuanced expressions on his face. Everything else about the story stays pretty much the same – though I should probably add that this is a musical version, with songs by Aaron and Bryce Dessner.

Cyrano is desperately in love with Roxanne (Hayley Bennett), a poor and (it must be said) somewhat shallow young woman, who is considered a great beauty in her home town. She is pursued by many men, among them the rich but odious De Guiche (Ben Mendelsohn). When Roxanne summons Cyrano to meet her in private, he dares to hope that she might have reciprocal feelings for him; instead she confesses that she has fallen in love with Christian de Neuvillette (Kelvin Harrison Jr), a handsome new recruit to Cyrano’s regiment. Could Cyrano keep an eye on Christian and protect him from any harm?

Cyrano is so enamoured of Roxanne that he reluctantly agrees to help – and, when it turns out that Christian isn’t very good with words, Cyrano becomes the man who writes the many love letters that ‘Christian’ regularly sends to Roxanne. As Cyrano unfurls the deluge of longing he has nurtured for so long, the task nearly unhinges him.

Filmed on location in Southern Italy, Cyrano makes few concessions to realism. Instead, Wright’s film plays out through a series of highly stylised backgrounds with garish costumes, masks and makeup used to create a vibrant world that seems to virtually pulse with colour. Soldiers practising with swords move gracefully into dance routines, while large stretches of the dialogue are spoken in rhyme. It’s only when the film reaches its later stretches (and the location switches to the snow-covered heights of Mount Etna) that the brutal reality of war seems to bleach all colour from the screen and the story descends headlong into tragedy.

The songs are distinctive, plaintive and affecting, particularly in the scene where three soldiers, about to go out to their deaths in battle, leave letters to their loved ones, singing the words as they hand the pages to a messenger. It would already have been the film’s most moving sequence, but thoughts of the current conflict in Ukraine seem to lend it extra poignancy, and my eyes fill as it unfolds. If you’re already familiar with the story of Cyrano de Bergerac, you’ll know that there’s also a coda to this tale that isn’t exactly the happy ending you might have wished for.

This is undoubtedly Dinklage’s film, revealing impressive new depths to his acting, but Bennett is good too and her final scenes with Dinklage will probably send you out into the night with tears running down your face. If I’m making it sound like something of an ordeal, it really isn’t. Wright is adept at making every scene look ravishing, as he did in his under-appreciated adaptation of Anna Karenina. It’s the very theatricality of the telling that makes this film so powerful – and, in its own way, unique

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Uncharted

20/02/22

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Has there ever been a truly satisfying movie adapted from a video game? Not that I’ve seen.

It’s a conundrum when you consider that most games are cinematic in their scope and yet, time and again, they somehow fail to make the transition. Uncharted has been wallowing in production-hell for a very long time. Indeed, the original plan was to have Mark Wahlberg play young adventurer Nathan Drake, but time has moved on, and he has to be content with playing the father-figure, Sully, to Tom Holland’s Nathan.

Holland, fresh from box-office-conquering success in Spider-Man: No Way Home, could probably have chosen pretty much anything for his next project, so it’s interesting that he’s gone for this. He’s a self-professed gaming fan, so perhaps that’s what lured him. I should perhaps state at this point that I have never played the Uncharted game – in fact, apart from a few goes at Tomb Raider way back in the day, I have never felt the need to scratch the gaming itch.

Uncharted is a fun project, which makes no secret of the fact that it’s highly derivative, borrowing heavily from films that have gone before it: a splash of Oceans 11, a measure of National Treasure and a great big dollop of Indiana Jones. Indeed, the script, put together by no less than five screenwriters, openly references the latter movie several times, just in case we’ve missed the allusion.

When we first meet Nathan, he’s hanging grimly onto a shipping container trailing out of the back of a transport plane (as you do), a sequence lifted directly from the Playstation game that inspired the film. It’s pretty full on for an introduction, but happily the story then skips back to young Nathan’s life in an orphanage and his hero worship of his younger brother, Sam (Rudy Pankow). Sam is obsessed with the idea of finding treasure – specifically the lost gold of Spanish explorer, Ferdinand Magellan. But after breaking too many rules, he’s obliged to skip town and, after that, Nathan only hears from him occasionally, via a series of mysterious postcards from all around the world.

Back in the present day, Nathan is approached by Sully, who’s looking for somebody to help him find a lost treasure and, of course, it turns out to be the same one that Sam was looking for all those years ago. Sully also mentions that he knows Sam, so Nathan dutifully enlists with him. What follows is an elaborately plotted heist-treasure-hunt-action-spectacular. Thrown into the mix are Antonio Banderas as the ruthless Santiago Moncada, a man whose family history makes him believe the treasure rightfully belongs to him, his vicious hench-woman, Braddock (Tati Gabrielle), who is very handy with a blade, and another treasure seeker, Chloe Frazer (Sophia Ali), who might be trustworthy, but probably isn’t.

The action set pieces are nicely done, though the film’s 12A certificate sometimes jars with the onscreen violence. Vicious punches leave not a hint of a bruise and there’s what must qualify as the least bloody throat cutting-scene I’ve ever witnessed on the big screen. It just feels odd. But I enjoy the banter between Nathan and Sully, and a climactic sequence featuring helicopters and Spanish galleons is definitely a highlight.

All in all, this is a pleasant way to spend a couple of hours, but there’s nothing in Uncharted that will linger long in the memory. Fans of the game will doubtless complain that this doesn’t stick closely enough to the source material, while for me, the inevitable post-credit sequence which teases a second instalment, doesn’t feel in the least bit tempting.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Freaky

18/02/22

NOW Cinema

Our on-going efforts to catch up with some of the movies that were lost in lockdown continues. Freaky was released at the worst possible time for a film of this kind. Here is something that really needs to be seen with a bunch of friends, in an actual cinema, to be fully appreciated. But, needs must and all that.

To be honest, Christopher Landon and Michael Kennedy’s spoof slasher movie starts unpromisingly as we see four teenagers gorily despatched by the Blissfield Butcher, a masked killer in the (jugular) vein of Michael Myers. Indeed, there are clear nods to Halloween and other classics of the genre, but the problem is that there’s no real suspense generated here, the killings suspended in that lonely wasteland somewhere between horror and comedy.

Just as I’m thinking of reaching for the ‘off’ switch, however, the film plays its trump card, as The Butcher (Vince Vaughan) attacks troubled teen Millie (Kathryn Newton) with an ancient Aztec dagger and things change significantly. For this, it turns out, is a body-swap story (working title Freaky Friday the 13th). Now Millie is running around in the body of a six-foot-plus male serial killer and she’s having the devil of a job convincing her best friends, Nyla (Celeste O’ Connor) and Josh (Misha Osherovich), that she’s worthy of their trust.

Meanwhile, The Butcher is wandering gleefully around the high school in Millie’s petite frame, exacting bloody revenge on everyone who is mean to him – and that vengeance is not exclusively directed at his fellow students, either. Teacher Mr Bernardi (Alan Ruck) is also due a healthy dose of comeuppance.

And suddenly it’s working! This edgy mix of killer-thriller and high school romcom feels fresh and inventive, while Vaughan gives a nicely nuanced performance that’s much more adept than the high-camp caricature familiar from this genre. Newton handles her inner malevolence with skill and Osherovich, as Millie’s snarky gay friend, is given some genuinely funny lines to deliver. As he observes to Nyla: ‘You’re black, I’m gay. We are SO dead!’

The subsequent killings have much more impact now that we actually have characters that we can care about – and the pace is too frantic to allow time to consider the improbabilities of the plot.

But, you can’t help but wonder, how on earth are they ever going to tie these various strands into a satisfying conclusion? Suffice to say they do, and, most refreshing of all, there’s no attempt to dangle the possibility of a sequel.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Death on the Nile

12/02/22

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Kenneth Branagh earned himself a lot of brownie points for the sublime Belfast, but quickly squanders most of them in this, his second Agatha Christie adaptation. While it’s a definite improvement on his previous attempt, Murder on the Orient Express (which suffered from a bad case of too many actors in cameo roles), it still struggles to escape from the suffocating confines of the genre.

Mind you, it opens with a totally unexpected sequence set in the First World War, where we meet a digitally de-aged Poirot as a solider in the trenches, already flexing his powers of deduction. And then we are offered an origin story for that famous moustache. Interesting…

But all too soon, the action has moved on to 1937 and more familiar territory. Poirot is in a nightclub, fussing over some desserts, listening to blues singer Salome Otterburn (Sophie Okonedo) and watching as a certain Simon Doyle indulges in some rather dirty dancing with his fiancée, Jacqueline de Belfort (Emma McKey). The fact that Doyle is played by the recently disgraced Armie Hammer is, um, awkward, to say the least (and when I reflect that the previous film had a pivotal role for Johnny Depp, it makes me wonder is there isn’t some kind of ‘Curse of the Christies’ going on here).

Anyway, six weeks later, Doyle is climbing aboard a cruise ship in Egypt with his new bride… Linnet Ridgeway (Gal Gadot). Things get even more uncomfortable when Jacqueline arrives and spends her time glaring balefully at the newly weds over the lobster and fizzy wine. Honestly, if looks could kill!

Okay, this is Christie territory, so it’s a hardly a spoiler to say that somebody winds up murdered, which puts a proper crimp on the festivities. The perpetrator could be any of the passengers, all of them played by well know faces: Annette Bening, Dawn French, Jennifer Saunders, Russell Brand, Letitia Wright. Place your bets, folks – unless, like me, you saw the 1978 version or have read the book, and already know whodunnit.

Which, I must confess, spoils it somewhat.

It’s all handsomely done and this time around there’s enough focus on the various players to make it feel that they’re more than just cardboard cutouts. Egypt is lovingly recreated in CGI and the shameful opulence of the era is shown in unflinching detail. Here is an age where somebody can throw the contents of a champagne glass into the Nile and declare ‘there’s plenty more where that came from’ while starving people watch in silence from the river bank.

Okay, it was a different time, but at the end of the day, this feels hopelessly antiquated and badly in need of updating. Diehard Christie fans will doubtless tell themselves that Branagh has done his subject proud, and yes, perhaps he has – but I for one will be in no great hurry to see another Poirot movie. Unless, that is, it can offer something more unexpected than an origin story for some facial hair.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Belle

10/02/22

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Writer/director Mamoru Hosoda’s Belle, is a modern re-working of Beauty and the Beast (renamed here in the subtitle as The Dragon and the Freckled Princess). This animation is a delight: a fresh, thought-provoking take on the fairytale. Is it sentimental? Yes. Does that bother me? Not one jot.

Suzu (voiced by Kaho Nakamura) is a troubled seventeen-year-old. Her mother died when Suzu was a little girl, and she’s never really come to terms with the loss. She is moody and taciturn with her father (Kôji Yakusho), and struggles to express herself. Suzu and her mother always used to sing together, but now – even under the patient guidance of her mother’s choir friends – Suzu can’t find her voice; she’s desperately shy and self-conscious.

But in the virtual world of ‘U,’ Suzu can use an avatar and, at this remove, her emotions all come tumbling out – in song. Her haunting voice and plaintive lyrics attract a lot of attention, and, as Suzu’s best friend, Hiroka (Lilas Ikuta), is a tech-savvy genius, her alter-ego, ‘Belle’ soon becomes a star. In U, at least, everything is going well… until a mysterious beast disrupts one of Belle’s performances, and she embarks on a quest to discover his identity.

This Studio Chizu production is gloriously animated. The real world backdrops are rendered in intricate detail, in stark contrast with the dizzying, eye-popping invention of the virtual world. And the story works well: the characters are fully-rounded – complex and flawed; their relationships are credible. The not-so-subtle allusions to Twitter pile-ons and trolls – represented here by Justin (Toshiyuki Morikawa) and his vigilante group – depict the problematic aspects of social media, but the main impression is one of positivity. U is a place of opportunity, an egalitarian space, where preconceptions don’t count.

Perhaps the film’s greatest strength is in its message that our virtual selves can work in harmony with our real selves, serving to bolster our confidence. Belle allows Suzu to sing again and, having practised in the safe space of U, she feels able to open up at school and home. We hear negative stories all the time, about how fake images and pretence are damaging our lives. But Hosoda asks us to see things differently, to consider how we might harness this technology to become the best versions of ourselves. It’s a fascinating take.

My only quibble is with the cinema rather than the movie. This is a children’s film, squarely aimed at a middle-grade to teen audience. So why is it only showing once a day, at 8pm, when most youngsters are at home, getting ready for bed? Of course, it works for adults too, and I enjoy it immensely, but it seems a shame to limit its potential in this way.

4.1 stars

Susan Singfield

Pig

06/02/22

Now TV

I’m late to this, mostly because of my inability to find the film showing at a cinema anywhere near me. But I’ve heard good things about it and eventually, I chase it down on the small screen. My expectations are that it will turn out to be a kind of ‘John Wick with a pig’ scenario, which isn’t a prospect I relish, but happily it is gentler and a bit more nuanced than that.

Disturbingly, though, days after the viewing, I’m still not entirely sure what it is.

Nicholas Cage plays ‘Rob,’ who ekes out a precarious existence in a tumbledown cabin in the middle of a forest in Oregon. He makes his living from harvesting truffles, along with his beloved er… pig (Brandy), who has a snout for that kind of thing. Rob is visited from time to time by young entrepreneur, Amir (Alex Wolff), who sells those foraged truffles in Portland, where they are prized by chefs at the fancier dining establishments. It’s an odd arrangement but it seems to work.

But things take a nasty turn when Rob is attacked one night and his pig stolen. So, with Amir as his driver, Rob sets out for the big city with only one thing on his mind: to get his pig back. It’s nothing to do with the truffle situation, though. Rob loves her and cannot envisage life without her.

As he and Amir travel through the city, it soon becomes clear that Rob has been here before. Once upon a time, it transpires, a near legendary chef and the very mention of his full name – Robin Feld – is enough to invoke awe in everyone who hears it. (It’s hard to imagine that the names of Jamie Oliver or Gordon Ramsay could inspire such respect.) Along the way, Rob has some strange encounters. He volunteers to be beaten up in a private fight club (as you do), he cooks food for Amir and his ruthless father, and he makes it clear that he has nothing but contempt for his former career and for the customers who used to flock to him for his gastronomic delights.

Pig is an odd film, to say the very least. While it’s refreshing to see a Nicholas Cage project that doesn’t require him to chew the scenery, it’s also probably true to say that most of what’s going on here is in the subtext. Rob is a shambling, monosyllabic central character, covered with bruises and blood throughout the film – a scene where he books a table at a swanky restaurant and none of his fellow-diners raise so much as an eyebrow actually beggars belief – and he is single minded in his determination to get that pig back, come hell or high water.

Debut director/co-writer Michael Sarnoski’s fairy tale seems to be suggesting that greeting violence with love (and food) is the way to solve problems, and perhaps he’s right on that score, but ‘turning the other cheek’ is hardly a revelation, and it doesn’t seem enough to hang an entire movie on. While it’s also true to say that Pig never goes anywhere you expect it to, it feels somehow as though the stakes need upping a little.

Bacon sandwich, anyone?

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

The House

06/02/22

Netflix

It’s a cold Sunday afternoon, with the threat of snow hanging over it. We’ve nothing pressing to do, and we’ve already braved the elements for a bracing walk. We don’t want to go out again. It’s warm in our lounge, and there must be something worth watching that we haven’t already seen… But what?

The House pops up as a suggestion, and we’re intrigued.

Originally billed as a miniseries, The House appears on Netflix as a portmanteau, and is – I think – all the better for it. Viewed as one, the themes coalesce, and the strange beauty of this piece is given time to develop.

The house in question is a rather lovely one: three storeys of opulence and grandeur. Enda Walsh’s script shows it to us in three different times: the past, the present and the future.

Chapter One, And Heard Within, a Lie is Spun, is an eerie origins tale, directed by Emma de Swaef and Marc James Roels, and brought to life via some very spooky felt dolls. Mabel (voiced by Mia Goth) is a little girl. It’s some time in the 1800s, and her father’s fecklessness means her family is impoverished. Raymond (Matthew Goode) is a decent man; it’s just that he’s not very good at making money or managing his alcohol intake. One night, he wanders drunkenly into the forest, and meets a mysterious being, who offers him a way out. The enigmatic architect, Mr Van Schoonbeek, will build him a house. It is a gift. The only catch is that they have to live there – and that doesn’t seem like a catch at all. What could go wrong?

A lot, as it happens. Mabel is disconcerted to discover that Mr Van Schoonbeek keeps making changes. Big changes. Such as removing the staircases, so that she and her baby sister, Isobel, are trapped on the upper floor. Her parents seem caught up in the house’s spell, lured by its riches, and all too soon are literally defined by what they own…

Chapter Two, Then Lost is Truth That Can’t Be Won, directed by Niki Lindroth von Bahr, takes us to the present day. The house is now part of a suburban row, and is in the process of being renovated.

By a rat.

Said rat, known only as The Developer and voiced by Jarvis Cocker, is a hard-working soul. He has everything riding on the success of what seems to be a solo project, and – as his constant calls to the bank confirm – is relying on a quick sale. At first, he’s confident. His plans are meticulous. He has dedicated his life to this money-making scheme, sleeping in the basement for months, doing the place up room by room. It’s a wonder of high-spec luxury. But when he spies a fur beetle scurrying along the kitchen floor, he realises he has a problem. He fills in gaps in the skirting boards and throws around a liberal amount of beetle-poison, but all to no avail. He has an open viewing scheduled. What is he to do?

In Chapter Three, Listen Again and Seek the Sun, director Paloma Baeza offers us a washed out dystopia, set in the near future. Floods have risen, and the house looms precariously out of the water, an island in a never-ending sea. It’s all studio apartments now, owned by a cat called Rosa (Susan Wokoma), who dreams of restoring the dilapidated building to its former glory. The Pinterest-style boards attached to her wall show an ambitious vision, but she’s fighting a losing battle. All but two of her tenants have left, and those who remain, Jen (Helena Bonham Carter) and Elias (Will Sharpe), pay their rent, respectively, in crystals and fish. Which is all very well, Rosa tells them crossly, but no plumber will accept them as currency so no, sorry, she can’t do anything about the horrible brown water that’s coming out of the taps.

When Cosmos (Paul Kaye) arrives, the truth becomes clear: Rosa needs to let go of her attachment to the house if she wants to survive.

Taken as a whole, these three stories amount to a gentle polemic, an admonishment to us all to realise what really matters before it’s too late to save the world. It’s beautifully done. The tales are fresh, engaging, and quirkily animated – a lovely way to while away an hour and a half.

4.1 stars

Susan Singfield

Munich: The Edge of War

06/02/22

Netflix

History has not been kind to Neville Chamberlain. He’s generally depicted as the naïve fool who, despite good intentions, utterly failed to put the stops on Adolf Hitler. It’s interesting to note that this Netflix film, based on a novel by Robert Harris, chooses to view his actions in the lead up to World War 2 in a more sympathetic light. Could it be that the man actually knew what he was doing?

This is a handsomely mounted production that struggles to create any real sense of suspense, because… well, unlike say Quentin Tarantino, director Christian Schwochow decides to stick closer to the truth. Plot spoiler: Hitler does not get mown down in a hail of bullets by the film’s heroes a la Inglourious Basterds. Just so you know.

We first meet Hugh Legat (George McKay) and his friend, Paul Von Hartmann (Jannis Niewöhner), in 1932, when they are celebrating their graduation from Oxford, along with Paul’s Jewish girlfriend, Lena (Liv Lisa Fries). Paul is singing the praises of a certain Adolf H, who – he genuinely believes – represents the best future for his homeland. Hugh is understandably horrified. Shortly thereafter, Hugh visits Paul in Munich, where the latter seems even more bullish about his adulation for the Führer – and the two friends fall out with each other.

The action moves on six years, and Paul’s views have changed for the better. He’s realised that his earlier beliefs were short-sighted to say the very least and is now involved in a clandestine plot to bring Hitler down before he can do any more damage. When he discovers that his old pal, Hugh, has become private secretary to Neville Chamberlain (Jeremy Irons), Paul spots an opportunity to get to the British PM, in order to urge him not to sign the upcoming Munich agreement.

Hugh, somewhat reluctantly, finds himself once again on his way to Germany.

McKay, having spent a lot of time running like the clappers to avoid impending carnage in 1917, finds himself doing something similar here, only this time, he’s attempting to head off an entire World War. (So no pressure there.) He’s very engaging as a young man trying to do his level best, whilst struggling with tantrums from his wife, Pamela (Jessica Brown Findlay), who seems to take it personally that her husband thinks preventing a World War is more important than ensuring he’s home for dinner every evening.

Niewöhner has a smouldering James Dean-ish quality that augers well for his future, while Irons is typically assured in his depiction of Chamberlain, giving us a bumbling, frightfully British sort of chap, who is obsessed with making recordings for the good old BBC and won’t tolerate anybody speaking out of turn. Ulrich Matthes, meanwhile, gives us one of the most terrifying screen Hitlers I can remember.

Matters become more complicated when Paul discovers that a childhood acquaintance, Franz Sauer (August Diehl), is now a leading officer in the SS and that the two of them are going to be spending a lot of time together. What’s more, Sauer is also clearly suspicious about his former schoolfriend’s intentions and has an unfortunate habit of turning up in all the wrong places.

Munich: the Edge of War offers an entertaining couple of hours, but the protagonists never seem to be really imperilled. While this may work in the source novel, it prevents the film from ever going into the kind of overdrive its final stretches require.

3.6 stars

Philip Caveney

The Souvenir: Part Two

04/02/22

Cineword, Edinburgh

Joanna Hogg’s The Souvenir was a well deserved indie hit back in 2020. It relates the story of young film student, Julie (Honor Swinton Byrne), whose life becomes inextricably entangled with the mysterious Anthony (Tom Burke), a secretive alpha-male who claims to work for the foreign office. Julie quickly learns that Anthony cannot be trusted and that he has a propensity for selling off her treasured belongings in order to fuel an all-pervading drug addiction. It’s a powerful story, one with a heart-rendingly tragic conclusion.

It therefore came as something of a surprise to learn that a sequel had been commissioned. Shot last year, and newly arrived in the cinemas, it’s already been garlanded with high praise and five star reviews from many of the UK’s most prestigious critics. Like the previous film, it boasts Martin Scorcese as executive producer and takes up where the last film ended, with Julie trying to come to terms with Anthony’s suicide, whilst simultaneously attempting to continue her schooling, working alongside a bunch of fellow students to produce her graduation film.

Along the way, Julie experiences a disastrous one-night-stand with actor Jim (Charlie Hutton) and continues to kindle the scorn of the egomaniac fledgling director, Patrick (Richard Ayoade), who offers some of the film’s funniest lines. ‘You’re literally forcing me to have a tantrum!’ he screams at one point. It’s the late 80s, which probably explains why nearly every character we meet smokes continuously – on film sets, at the dinner table, even in the cinema. The film occasionally feels as though it should carry a government health warning.

As before, Hogg makes no attempt to disguise the fact that Julie is rampantly over-privileged. Here is a student with no side-job, who nevertheless lives alone in a swanky, central-London apartment, and is able to call upon her rich parents, Rosalind (Swinton-Byrne’s real life mother Tilda Swinton) and William (James Spencer), to further fund her filmmaking efforts to the tune of ten thousand pounds, which they are able to do without an eyebrow being raised.

The first half of the film works well, concentrating on Julie’s efforts to process her grief. She makes regular visits to a counsellor, visits Anthony’s parents and even drops in on some of his shadier acquaintances in her search for answers. The second half of the film takes us headlong into the filmmaking process, with Julie struggling to get her ideas across to the cast and crew who’ve been assigned to work on her vision. A decision to abandon her original project (a film about the working classes in Sunderland) is probably a wise move – anything she might have had to say about that subject would have smacked of appropriation.

Instead, she tries to capture the details of her doomed relationship with Anthony on film. This is meta to say the very least. Now we’re watching Julie watching actors playing her and Anthony, enacting scenes from her recent history – and then, when we see the finished film, it’s viewed through Julie’s gaze so she appears to be starring in a film about her own life titled… er… The Souvenir.

To my mind, this second half is both more ambitious and less cohesive than what’s gone before. Which is not to say that there isn’t plenty here to admire, just that it feels a bit scattershot – and the film’s final sequence would have impressed me a lot more if I hadn’t recently seen it done better – and more confidently – in TV series Landscapers.

But that’s hardly Hogg’s fault. She’s clearly a talented filmmaker, but I’m hoping now she’ll apply those talents to something entirely different, rather than The Souvenir: Part Three.

Only time will tell on that one.

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney