Film

God’s Own Country

06/09/17

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

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

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

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

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

 

Detroit

30/08/17

Kathryn Bigelow’s angry howl of a movie deals with the infamous Algiers Motel Incident of 1967, one of the most shameful abuses of civil rights in America’s history. It’s certainly not an easy film to watch, but it’s undeniably powerful and recreates the events with an almost forensic eye for period detail.

Melvin Dismukes (John Boyega) is the luckless security guard who finds himself drawn into events at the motel after one of the residents plays a practical joke with a starting pistol, a joke that goes horribly wrong. A bunch of Detroit police officers, led by the openly racist Krauss (Will Poulter), enter the motel with guns drawn, determined to find the ‘sniper’ they believe is holed up there. Dismukes has the unenviable task of trying to maintain some kind of equilibrium amidst the rising tension, while Krauss, already in trouble for shooting an unarmed man in an earlier incident, is determined to make an arrest. The problem is, he isn’t particularly choosy about how he selects the so-called perpetrator.

The film quickly develops into a tense confrontation between the police and their captives, who are subjected to a terrifying ordeal that some of them, sadly, do not survive. The film then goes beyond the incident itself to examine the resulting trial and its woeful  verdict. Brit actor John Boyega plays Dismukes with dignity and steely determination and there’s a fine turn from Algee Smith, as a vocalist on the edge of stardom, whose life is suddenly and irrevocably affected by the events at the motel. But it’s Poulter who is the revelation here, playing a ruthless, smirking scumbag, a role that’s about a million miles away from his usual comfort zone. Clearly, Bigelow spotted something in that angelic face that was capable of portraying evil – and it’s interesting to note that the actor was attached to the role of Pennywise in the upcoming It before a change of director prompted him to bail out.

Detroit won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. It’s long and harrowing and some liberties have been taken with the real story (the police officers’ names, for instance, have been changed, presumably in an attempt to protect the film-makers from lawsuits), but it’s nonetheless an important and profoundly affecting film that absolutely deserves to be seen and heard . I would strongly suggest that you grab the opportunity to do exactly that.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Dark Side of the Moon: The Full Dome Experience

27/08/17

Dynamic Earth, Edinburgh

Of all the shows we have attended at this year’s Fringe, (and there have been many) this is perhaps the hardest to review – but for me at least, it’s one of the most irresistible. Under the museum’s gigantic dome, usually reserved for films about space exploration and wild-life documentaries, some genius has decided to project a series of eye-popping visuals while Pink Floyd’s classic 1973 album, Dark Side of the Moon plays in its entirety.

This record formed the soundtrack of my life through many of my formative years and it is wonderful to have the opportunity to listen to it again, played loud with no interruptions, while spectacular images swirl and swoop above and around me. These range from pulsing abstract patterns to CGI animated landscapes. Planes soar in crystal clear skies, bricks tumble in all directions and endless constructions stretch to infinity in all directions. Occasional feelings of motion sickness soon pass, and mostly the results are simply jaw-dropping.

It’s clear that I’m not the only one attracted to this. All of the twice-nightly showings quickly sold out and extra dates had to be added to cope with the demand. Sitting spell bound in my comfortable seat, I am transported back to my youth – and listening to David Gilmour’s thrilling guitar work on Money actually gives me chills.

Okay, I appreciate this isn’t everybody’s cup of tea, but for me at least, it’s an absolute joy from start to finish. I hope Dynamic Earth will take the hint and put on a few more shows like this.

5 stars (for Pink Floyd Fans)

4 stars (for the uninitiated)

Philip Caveney

Atomic Blonde

 

 

22/08/17

All those idiots who perpetually bleat that there could never be a female James Bond might care to check this out. If there were any lingering doubts that Charlize Theron can convince as an ass-kicker after Mad Max: Fury Road, then this should dispel those notions completely. Here she plays MI6 agent, Louise Broughton, a kind of Jane Bond figure who apparently subsists on a diet of neat vodka-on-the-rocks and cigarettes, whilst rocking a series of 80s fashions and performing extreme chop socky moves to the strains of classic rock songs. (This is the second film this year to use Flock of Seagulls’ I Ran to excellent effect. Just sayin’).

It’s November 1989 and the Berlin Wall is about to take a permanent dive. Broughton is sent over to Berlin to team up with fellow agent, David Percival (James McAvoy), a man who presents such a dodgy persona, it’s a wonder he can find his own reflection in a mirror. Somebody – Code Name ‘Satchel’ – has procured a list of British agents and their nefarious dealings during the Cold War, a list so incendiary that it mustn’t be allowed to fall into enemy hands. Broughton’s job is to find the list (and hopefully Satchel) and bring them both back to Blighty. But it isn’t an easy task when she can’t trust anybody…

What this basically boils down to is an excuse for a series of bruising action sequences, in which Broughton takes down what seems like a whole army of men, using any weapons at her disposal – a stiletto heel, a frying pan, a bunch of keys – she’s not fussy, she’ll employ anything that comes to hand. The highlight here is a long fight scene on  a staircase. Shot in a continuous take, it sets the bar high for pain and punishment and there’s no doubt that director David Leitch, fresh off John Wick: Chapter Two, knows how to stage a convincing punch-up. I loved the fact that people don’t emerge from one of these skirmishes with a polite spot of blood at the side of their mouth, as we so often witness in this kind of film – no, we regularly see Broughton’s bruised and swollen face and limbs and we quite understand her habit of taking occasional ice baths.

Rather less successful, however, is the plot, which is so labyrinthine as to defy all understanding. Virtually every character we meet is double-crossing somebody else or working for somebody else or pretending to be somebody else. By the conclusion, I thought I had a handle on most of it but I wouldn’t want to testify to it in court – or indeed, in the kind of rigorous debriefing that is used as the framework for Atomic Blonde. There are excellent supporting roles from the likes of Toby Jones, Eddie Marsan and John Goodman, as various men in suits, but this is undeniably a showcase for Theron’s star power and she makes the most of it.

A simpler plot would certainly have made this a better film, overall, but action junkies will love the fights and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t find them thrilling. If Leitch can marry those superior action chops to a simpler, more convincing storyline, who knows what might be achieved? Here, he manages to win on points rather than achieving a knockout blow. But it’s certainly worth the price of a ringside seat.

3.5 stars

Philip Caveney

A Ghost Story

14/08/17

Unless you’ve been living in a cave for the last few months, you’ll already have heard about this film. It’s the one where Oscar-winning actor Casey Affleck spends most of his time hidden under a bed-sheet – the one where Rooney Mara has to eat an entire chocolate pie in one take, even though she’s never actually eaten pie before… Seldom has so much information been spread in advance of a film’s release. And then there’s that killer trailer, which really raised my expectations for this.

So, is the actual film any good? Well, the answer to that question isn’t as straightforward as you might hope.

This is the story of handsome young couple, C (Casey Affleck), and M (Rooney Mara), living together in a modest clapboard house, somewhere deep in the heart of Texas. When C is killed in a car crash  – don’t worry, this really isn’t a spoiler – he somehow finds himself rising up from his death bed, cloaked in his funeral shroud. He returns to his house, where he watches in silence as M goes through a lengthy grieving process before finally moving on with her life and leaving for pastures new. C is doomed to remain tied to the house, waiting for something – we’re not sure exactly what – to happen and, as we eventually witness, he is destined to be there for eternity, even able to somehow loop back around to revisit the past.

The film unfolds at such a funereal pace, it makes a Terence Malick film seem like Fast and Furious by comparison. Indeed, at times it’s less like a motion picture and more like watching a series of still images in an art gallery. Obviously, this is no accident on the part of writer/director David Lowery, who clearly wants you to meditate deeply on the subjects of bereavement, mourning and the passing of time, but I’d be lying if I claimed that the film doesn’t sometimes test my patience to the extreme. Which is not to say that there aren’t some brilliant ideas in here. There are, but they take an inordinate amount of time to reveal themselves. The conviction remains that this could have been a brilliant short but, even at an economical 92 minutes, it drags its heels more than you’d like.

Weirdly, the images do tend to stay with you long after the closing credits, but this doesn’t feel like enough to recommend it to others. It feels to me that there’s the ghost of a very good movie in there somewhere, but it’s too tightly wrapped in its funeral shroud to ever claw its way out. Definitely a marmite film, this, and I’m already bracing myself to hear from those who will inevitably jump to its defence. But I was left wanting more. And that makes A Ghost Story a major disappointment.

2.5 stars

Philip Caveney

England is Mine

10/08/17

England is Mine, the Morrissey biopic, is a bit of a let-down – much like the man himself. And, believe me, this is not a sentiment I’m happy to express. I loved Moz as a teenager and young adult; I still love the Moz I carry in my heart. It’s just hard to reconcile the boy he was with the immigration-hating Farage-fan he has become in later life. I hoped the film might redeem him – and it does, to some extent – but it’s a weak, diluted story, that leaves out all of the interesting bits.

There is stuff to admire: Jack Lowden is ace in the lead role, convincingly conflicted, straddling that odd line between shyness and arrogance. The first forty minutes or so are very good indeed, conveying a real sense of the stultification Steven Patrick felt, trapped in a world where no one saw more for him than the same as they had, all repetitive jobs and dull relationships. Linder (Jessica Brown Findlay) is a lone bright star, opening up the world to him. And Billy Duffy (Adam Lawrence) offers another ray of hope, another route out of this Billy Liar life: these two characters are particularly well-acted, their larger-than-life personae portrayed with impressive subtlety.

There are lots of enjoyable little references to Smiths lyrics too: we see young Moz standing ‘under the iron bridge,’ walking through ‘a darkened underpass,’ staring at ‘the rocks below.’ He and Linder enjoy their afternoons at the cemetery, claiming words as their own, or producing the texts from whence they were ripped. There is fun to be had in spotting these.

But, honestly, it’s not enough. Where’s the music? I’m assuming efforts were made to secure the rights to at least some of the Smiths’ output? Or did writer/director Mark Gill really want to make a biopic that misses out the legacy of its main man? Okay, okay, the story ends before the Smiths begin, but surely the closing credits could have incorporated something relevant? Instead, the music throughout fails to set the scene: it’s all the stuff that Moz enjoyed, but there’s no context for it, nothing to show how wonderfully out of step he was. There’s a poster for Duran Duran at the end, which goes a little way towards establishing this idea, but there’s nothing aural to consolidate it. It’s a film about music. The soundtrack really matters here.

Also, there’s half an hour where nothing happens. Almost literally nothing. Moz has lost his rubbish job; his dreams of stardom are in the dust, because Billy Duffy has left him behind. He’s depressed. He takes to his bed. On the rare occasion he gets up, he mopes. If ever there’s a perfect moment for a montage sequence, this is it. We could have whipped through this in five minutes and then moved on. Instead, we’re there with him: bored, fed-up and underwhelmed.

‘To say the least, I’m truly disappointed.’

3 stars

Susan Singfield

47 Meters Down

27/07/17

You may experience a scratching noise during screenings of this film. Don’t be alarmed, it’s only the sound of viewers drawing a line through ‘Swimming with Sharks’ on their bucket list – or quite possibly, somebody from the Mexican tourist board composing a letter of protest.

Lisa (Mandy Moore) has been unceremoniously dumped by her boyfriend, just weeks before the two of them were due to jet off for a dream holiday in Mexico. Trying to make the best of things, Lisa offers the place to her younger, more outgoing sister, Kate (Claire Holt). Kate’s method of getting Lisa over this obvious downer is to take her out dancing, encouraging her to snog a local hottie and then to enlist her on a ‘swimming with sharks’ experience in a rusty, leaking old tub, with a crew that take absolutely no notice of the fact that Lisa has never scuba dived before. Health and safety? Pah! This is Mexico! Who bothers with such outmoded ideas? They even practice the outlawed art of ‘chumming’ – throwing rotting fish into the water to attract the bigger sharks.

Needless to say, it works and the sisters are soon in a ramshackle metal cage, surrounded by giant fish. But, after an ancient piece of machinery fails, they promptly find themselves at the bottom of the ocean (47 meters down, obvs) with their oxygen fast running out and some (entirely convincing) CGI sharks prowling around in search of sustenance. These scenes are undeniably effective, generating almost unbearable levels of tension and making viewers feel every bit as breathless as the sisters.

Rather less seaworthy, however, are the passages where the young women discuss their relationship (as you tend to when surrounded by sharks) and the way they feel obliged to keep reminding each other of how long they have left before their oxygen runs out. Worse still is the presence of jobbing actor, Matthew Modine as Captain Taylor, (he might just as well have been called Captain Exposition). Unseen for most of the film, he’s required to keep warning the women, via a dodgy radio link, that divers who take on too much oxygen or attempt to surface too quickly, can suffer from ‘the bends’. This may cause hallucinations, he tells them, repeatedly. Just in case we’re in any doubt about some of the things that occur in later scenes.

The ending is divisive. A gentleman sitting next to us expressed his views in no uncertain terms, (“That was a load of shit!”), but I actually liked the fact that it tries for something less straightforward than is usual in movies of this genre.  Director Johannes Roberts definitely has a flair for terrorising audiences, so it will be interesting to see where he goes next. (Hopefully somewhere that comes equipped with a better scriptwriter).

While this film has some evident flaws, there’s no denying the enduring appeal of sharks vs humans. But if you’re one of those intrepid people who are planning this kind of holiday experience in the near future, I’d give this one a wide berth.

3.5 stars

Philip Caveney

The Big Sick

23/07/17

The Big Sick is a fascinating movie: a rom-com for the modern age. Despite being produced by Judd Apatow (Bridesmaids, Knocked Up), the ‘com’ part of the equation is relatively subtle, avoiding (for the most part) the broad, scatalogical approach for which he is famed. Instead, this is a gentle, honest exploration of cross-cultural love and the complexities of modern relationships.

Based on the true story of writers Emily V. Gordon and Kumail Nanjiani, the film charts the initial stages of their romance as they negotiate the choppy waters of one-night stands, reluctantly-developing feelings and parental expectations. When a sudden, devastating illness is added to the mix, it seems as if the relationship might break under the strain.

Kumail Nanjiani plays himself, which adds to the sense of truthfulness. His performance is both charming and understated, with a quirky mix of confidence and modesty, which is very appealing indeed. He doesn’t self-aggrandize, but nor does he self-deprecate in that ostentatious, humble-bragging manner some comedians employ. And his account of his family is affectionate and kind, even though he’s largely shown in opposition to them. They want him to become a lawyer; they want him to be a devout Muslim; they want to arrange his marriage to a Pakistani woman. None of these things coincides with what Kumail wants for himself: he’s an aspiring stand-up comedian; he’s not sure about his faith. But his parents (Anupam Kher and Zenobia Shroff) are not his enemies: they are his family and they love him as much as he loves them. Their marriage is happy, and so is his brother, Naveed (Adeel Ahktar)’s: they all just want the best for him. The women they introduce him to are not awful; they’re real, believable people: attractive, intelligent, with interests of their own. But Kumail has fallen for Emily (played by Zoe Kazan). And she doesn’t fit the mould because she’s a white American.

As for grad-student psychologist Emily, she’s appalled to discover that Kumail is considering an arranged marriage, and that his plans for the future don’t necessarily include her. She’s in love with him, and devastated by the realisation that he’s caught between two worlds. “I can’t be the reason you lose your family,” she tells him. It’s too big, too much.

When Emily falls ill, however, Kumail is forced to confront his feelings and make a decision. He can’t coast along trying to appease everyone forever.

It doesn’t sound very amusing when it’s summarised, but this film is as irreverently funny as it is moving. Holly Hunter and Ray Romano are hilarious as Emily’s bickering parents, and Kher and Shroff’s disapproving double act is also excellent. The scenes backstage in the comedy club are illuminating, and benefit from a convincing shot of authenticity – after all, this is a world that seasoned stand-up Nanjiani knows well.

Really, this is a delightful film, with such a lot going for it. But don’t go along expecting a gross-out comedy. This is something way more interesting.

4.4 stars

Susan Singfield

Dunkirk

22/07/17

Christopher Nolan must be one of the most eclectic directors currently working. From The Dark Knight to Inception – from The Prestige to Interstellar, he seems to favour no particular genre, preferring to go wherever his fancy takes him. But I would never have predicted he’d direct a classic war movie like Dunkirk… but then, of course, this coming from the same man who made Memento means that it’s actually nothing like Leslie Norman’s 1958 film of the same name. This version employs experimental time frames to tell three interlinking stories. Powered along by Hans Zimmer’s urgent soundtrack and decidedly spare in its use of dialogue, the film grips like a vice from the opening shot to the closing frame.

The first strand concerns a young soldier, appropriately enough named Tommy (Fionn Whitehead) who is desperately making his way to Dunkirk beach in the hope of finding a boat to take him to safety. Along the way he meets up with the strangely taciturn Gibson (Damien Bonnard) and with Alex (Harry Styles – relax, it turns out he can act). The three men brave the dangers of ‘The Mole,’the perilous wooden jetty that leads out into deeper water where the larger ships can dock, but finding a safe berth is not easy and they are forced to seek alternative means of escape. The soldiers’ story plays out over one week.

Next up, we encounter Mr Dawson (Mark Rylance), a quietly spoken boat-owner who answers the desperate call for help and sets off for Dunkirk from his home port in Devon, with his son, Peter (Tom Glynn-Carney) and George (Barry Keoghan), a young lad desperate to prove himself to his parents. On the way they pick up ‘the shivering soldier’ (Cillian Murphy), a man so traumatised by his recent experiences that he can barely speak and who is clearly in no great hurry to return to France. This story is enacted over the course of one day.

And finally, in the deadly skies above Dunkirk, we meet Farrier (Tom Hardy) and Collins (Jack Lowden), two spitfire pilots charged with the thankless task of taking on the might of the Luftwaffe, buying time for the fleeing army to make its escape. In what at first appears to be a perverse move, Nolan keeps Hardy’s distinctive features mostly hidden behind goggles and an oxygen mask – but then you realise that he’s doing it for a reason – to emphasise the fact that the individual pilots who took part in this conflict remain largely unknown. Their tale, dictated by the amount of fuel that a Spitfire can carry, takes only an hour.

But of course, the three strands are interwoven like an expertly braided length of rope and it’s to Nolan’s credit that the ensuing events never become confusing, even when one particular character appears to be in two places almost simultaneously. What this film does splendidly is pull you into the heart of the hurricane and hold you there in almost unbearable tension.

This is after all not a film about bloodshed – in fact we see very little of that onscreen. It’s more about the brutal realities of survival, the mental toll on the participants and the quiet heroism of those who participate in the carnage. It’s the true life story of a military miracle, pulled off against all the odds. It may not be Nolan’s finest achievement – I’d hand that accolade to The Prestige – but it’s nonetheless a superbly affecting film that justifies all the rave reviews it’s been getting.

Where will Nolan go next, I wonder? Well, I suppose he’s yet to make a teen romance. But I won’t hold my breath.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Whist

22/07/17

Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s a rainy morning in Edinburgh, the perfect time to seek escape from reality. Upstairs in the bar at the Festival theatre may seem an unlikely location for such an escape, but it’s soon to be transformed into a landscape of the imagination, courtesy of dance company AOE and some nifty virtual reality headsets. Helpers are on hand to show us initially around what looks like a random selection of rather unprepossessing objects; we are told that, when these shapes are looked at through our headsets, they will unlock a series of sequences inspired by the work of psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud.

So, we allow ourselves to be fitted out with said headsets and we regard the first object we come to and… wow, this actually works! All of a sudden, I am standing mid-air in the centre of a dilapidated room, a room I can see in perfect detail, whichever way I choose to look. I can’t help but notice a rather ominous wooden chest in the corner and, as I watch (rather nervously, it has to be said), a woman emerges from the box and starts to chalk obscure symbols all over the wooden floor…

It’s hard to fully describe the impact of these ‘visions’. There’s a kind of voyeuristic pleasure in observing the various characters that wander in and out of the (seemingly unconnected) sequences and, often, a startling moment when they look directly at me and I become convinced that they know I am here, that they can see me watching them. The scenes range from the creepy to the baffling to the vaguely erotic. In my favourite sequence, I’m standing on a dinner table, my feet resting on a plate of bloody hearts. Around me, three diners are tucking in to the raw meat, drinking wine and shooting me challenging looks. I feel obliged to keep spinning around to make sure I take in all of their reactions. One of them looks a bit handy with a steak knife and I get the distinct impression they don’t much like me standing in the middle of their dinner…

There’s no through-storyline here. Each individual scenario is something that could have evolved from a dream or, more accurately, a nightmare. Birth seems to be a recurring theme and also, the subjugation of women. There’s a moment when I really want to step in to help somebody who is being manhandled, but I can’t, because I’m not actually there even though it feels like I am – and then there’s a moment when I suddenly find myself drifting alone through the cosmos and I nearly cry out with the wonder of it. I look down and it feels like I could fall forever…

The experience lasts an hour (which is probably just about the right duration) and I have to say, it’s pretty intense. For a while after it’s over, I have the conviction that the real word I’ve returned to is pretty damned strange (particularly when I spot Jarvis Cocker standing on the other side of the road) but that feeling soon passes. After all this is Edinburgh and the festival is fast approaching. Why shouldn’t Jarvis Cocker be around? Whist feels decidedly like it should be part of the festival, but it’s here right now and it’s one of the strangest, most immersive experiences I’ve ever had.

I urge everyone who can to pop along to the Festival Theatre and give it a try. It’s there until early August. There’s a limit of twenty participants per show, so get those tickets booked and dive right in. You’ll be intrigued, delighted, maybe even a little bit freaked… but I’m pretty sure you won’t be bored, not for a moment.

5 stars

Philip Caveney