Film

I, Daniel Blake

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21/10/16

If everything had gone to plan, this film wouldn’t have seen the light of day. Ken Loach’s previous movie, Jimmy’s Hall, was intended to be his swan song. And though that was a decent enough film, it was hardly up there with his finest work.But clearly, a look around ‘Benefits Britain’  – as engendered by the Tory party’s heartless policies – has stirred the veteran director out of retirement. I, Daniel Blake is not so much a film as a protracted howl of anger – and it’s one of the finest polemics I’ve seen on the cinema screen.

Dan (stand-up comedian, Dave Johns) is a carpenter who has recently suffered a serious heart attack. Told by his doctor that he’s not fit to go back to work, he signs on, but soon discovers that  the ‘decision-maker’ has deemed him ‘fit for work.’ Of course, he has no income, so if he wants money, he’ll have to apply for Jobseeker’s Allowance. This obliges him to trudge around Newcastle looking for jobs that he isn’t fit enough to accept even in the unlikely event that he gets them. During one trip to the Job Centre, he encounters Katie (Hayley Squires) a young single mother with two kids to look after. She’s recently been relocated from London to Newcastle and is desperately trying to find work. Dan befriends her, and becomes a kind of surrogate grandfather to the two children.

All the familiar Loach tropes are here – non actors, giving every scene a shot of verité, semi-improvised dialogue and a story that meanders from incident to incident with little in the way of a traditional story arc. But what there is in abundance is a sense of simmering anger, an incomprehension that life in this green and pleasant land could have come to this sorry state of affairs. There are scenes here that would move the most implacable viewer to tears (a scene set in a food bank is particularly affecting). If this should prove to be Loach’s final film, it’s a hell of a leaving card.

This should be required viewing for every politician in the land.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

My Scientology Movie/Going Clear

14/10/16

With its unusual release scheduling, it was actually quite difficult to see Louis Theroux’s My Scientology Movie. Most cinemas seemed to be showing it as a one-off on Monday 10th October and, we were dismayed to discover, tickets had sold out across all venues in Edinburgh, days in advance.

Really? Were we not going to be able to see it? Luckily our local indie – the lovely Cameo Picture House – eventually decided to put on a couple of extra showings, so we trooped along last night, late to the party but glad to have blagged a pass. And these extra shows all sold out too, so it seems odd that it’s not been given more of an airing, unless the scarcity is a strategy in itself. If it is, it’s working…

The film itself is a bit of a curate’s egg. It’s hard not to enjoy Theroux’s antics: he’s immensely likeable – quirky, funny,serious, demanding, self-reflective – and the film is never less than entertaining, engaging my attention throughout.

But… well, it’s impossible to ignore the emptiness at the film’s core. It’s supposed to be a documentary about Scientology, and it isn’t really. Not much is illuminated here.

I’m minded, this morning, to watch Alex Gibney’s 2015 Scientology documentary, Going Clear, referenced by Louis Theroux in the Q & A session broadcast after his film. So I rent it from amazon – and the comparison is stark. Gibney’s film is a much richer affair, explanatory and revelatory in a way Theroux’s is not. It’s clear that Gibney’s movie has impacted on Theroux’s, made him realise he needs a different angle to give it a USP – but, honestly, I don’t think his solution really works.

Going Clear is truly an exposé. It traces the origins of Scientology, reveals plenty about L Ron Hubbard’s motives (primarily to make a lot of money and pay no tax) and raises a lot of important issues that Theroux just doesn’t touch upon. There’re those Sea Org members, for example, who work for 40c per hour, a slave wage that has led to the FBI investigating  the church on suspicion of human trafficking.

From Theroux, I learn that the Scientologists are neurotic about their privacy, that they don’t welcome journalists, that they go out of their way to intimidate those who speak out against them. I learn that new recruits sign up for classes and pay their way up the scale, and that those who reach the upper echelons become members of the elite Sea Org (no mention here of the menial work they are expected to do). I learn that the church is rich and litigious. I don’t learn much else.

And this vacuum is a fatal flaw. Okay, so it’s fascinating to watch former Inspector General Marty Rathbun run the full gamut of emotions, to witness the mixture of contempt and awe he still feels for Scientology. It’s painful to witness his inability to examine his own culpability and the naked defensiveness that emerges when he’s questioned. But even here, Gibney elicits more than Theroux. In Going Clear, Rathbun admits to feeling shame, to regrets that haunt him all the time. We also gain a greater understanding of why people choose to stay in a cult that bullies and abuses them: some have grown up within its confines; others can’t bear to admit that they have been so duped, so compromised. Some are frightened, not just of the persecution they know follows those who leave, but also of what might be revealed: the regular ‘audits,’ where their deepest, darkest thoughts are analysed, are all recorded and kept on file. And they all know that these can be used against them, should they try to break free of their cage.

Theroux does succeed in showing us clear evidence of the Scientologists’ stonewalling technique: by talking to him only about trespass and private vs. public access, they manage to dominate the conversation and stymy all efforts to find out more. He attempts to fill the space left by their silence, hiring actors to recreate some of the church’s practices as described to him by Marty. But it’s not clear to see what these achieve: the young hopefuls are game and give it all they’ve got, but it isn’t real, and it certainly doesn’t have the impact of the reenactments in, say, Joshua Oppenheimer’s The Act of Killing, where the subjects were telling their own tales. Nor does it carry as much weight as the testimony of Tom Cruise’s ‘arranged’ girlfriend, Nazanin Boniadi, or Sara Northrup’s painful description of being cut off from her daughter, who chose to stay with the church when her family left.

Theroux’s My Scientology Movie is thoroughly enjoyable, but curiously dissatisfying as a documentary, revealing little, leaving the church’s shiny facade pristine and unscratched. If you want to be entertained and amused, then Theroux’s film will deliver the goods. But if you really want to learn about Scientology and its dodgy practices, then Gibney’s is the one to watch.

My Scientology Movie: 3.3 stars

Going Clear: 4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

Supersonic

14/10/16

If the Gallagher brothers hadn’t existed somebody would probably have had to invent them. The story of their meteoric rise from two monobrowed wannabes living on a council estate in Burnage to one of the most successful rock bands in history makes for enjoyable, sometimes hilarious, viewing.

This fast paced rock doc, culled mostly from home movie footage, interviews and news clips,  looks at the three eventful years where Noel, Liam and the other members of the band went from playing to half a dozen people at King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut in Glasgow to headlining at Knebworth.

It’s all here, spiced with that irrepressible Manc wit – the rehearsals, the recording sessions and, above all, those great songs from Definitely Maybe and (What’s The Story) Morning Glory? which, as Noel correctly asserts, are going to be played for many years to come. The film wisely eschews going beyond the glories of 1996 – the disappointing third album, Be Here Now, doesn’t even merit a mention and we’re not privy to footage of that final tour where the brothers fell out so violently that they are no longer on speaking terms. (They are both billed,  separately, as executive producers on this film.) But it’s not all sunshine and roses – there’s a section about Noel’s abusive relationship with his father and the cool dismissal of first drummer, Tony McCarroll, is examined in unflinching detail.

Talks of a possible reunion linger on but surely it’s better to remember them as they were in those first few years – swaggering scallies with their collective gaze fixed unerringly on the glittering prizes. That they managed to achieve their goal in such a short space of time is remarkable – and as rock docs go, this is one of the better ones.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

The Girl on the Train

10/10/16

The Girl on the Train‘s transition from page to screen was inevitable: Paula Hawkins’ novel has been a huge hit, its popularity earning its author over ten million dollars, and pretty much guaranteeing that this film adaptation will attract a large audience.

It’s a thriller, of sorts, unpicking the tangled lives of three women. Rachel (Emily Blunt) is a tragic figure, an alcoholic, obsessed with her ex-husband, Tom (Justin Theroux), and the baby she never had. Anna (Rebecca Ferguson) is Tom’s new wife, and Megan (Haley Bennett), is a neighbour who works as Tom and Anna’s nanny  (yes, they do have a baby) and seems to have the perfect life – at least, as far as Rachel can tell from what she glimpses from the train. Let’s be honest, the story stretches credulity at times, and it’s kind of irritating that the women are all defined by their motherhood – or lack thereof. It verges on the histrionic in places, and there are moments where it lacks pace or drive. But, where it works, it does work well.

There’s a change of location: we’re in New York instead of London, but this isn’t detrimental to the film. In fact, the cinematography is lovely; the contrasts between the urban mayhem and the glassy smoothness of the lake help add a layer of eeriness and tension to the piece. And the shift is only geographical: the social and sexual mores of affluent white suburbanites seem similar in both locales.

Emily Blunt in particular deserves some accolades: she absolutely convinces as the drunken, broken Rachel, desperately searching for a way back to herself. And there’s a stellar supporting cast, including the ever fabulous Allison Janney and the ‘why-doesn’t-she-do-more?’ Lisa Kudrow.

Overall, then, it’s kind of… okay. There’s a soggy middle section where your mind might wander, but you’ll be pulled back in for the rather racier (if somewhat predictable) ending.

If you liked the book, you’ll probably like this.

3.8 stars

Susan Singfield

War On Everyone

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09/10/16

Writer/director John Michael McDonagh dazzled with his first two movies – The Guard and Calvary, both set in Ireland – but his relocation to New Mexico for the nihilistic War On Everyone has resulted in a decidedly botched end-product. It’s a bit like one of those budget boxes of fireworks you buy cheap after November 5th – sure, there are some stunning pyrotechnics in the box, but there’re also a lot of damp squibs and even a few complete duds.

Bob and Terry (in what may or may not be a knowing nod to The Likely Lads) are a pair of corrupt cops, careering gleefully around their home town, taking bribes, sharing class A drugs with their perps and mercilessly beating up anybody who stands in their way. Much of this is presented as knockabout comedy, though most of it is very hard to laugh at. Bob (Michael Pena) appears to be the brains of the operation, a man as likely to start discussing philosophy in the course of his duties, as he is to read the Miranda rights. Terry (Alexander Skarsgard) is a hulking boy child who idolises Bob and doesn’t have much in his life, other than an addiction to the songs of Glenn Campbell and a complete belief in his partner’s genius. When the two men are sent to investigate a stabbing, they start to uncover a high-level crime syndicate, headed up by the suave and cultured Lord James Mangan (Theo James, channelling a young Rupert Everett). Much blood, gunfire and reckless driving ensues…

This is a film that will inevitably divide audiences. It’s true that there are inspired moments here – a scene where the two cops stand over a stabbed man, while his wife sobs helplessly in the background, yet somehow can’t stop themselves from eating burgers is brilliant; likewise the scene where Terry waltzes new girlfriend, Jackie (Tessa Thompson) around his empty flat to the strains of Rhinestone Cowboy is an unexpected joy amidst all the senseless violence and destruction – but for every scene that impresses, there’s also an artless collection of ‘jokes’ about Islam, gays, blacks and women, that are so stunningly inappropriate that it beggars belief – it’s as though McDonagh is trying so hard to be ‘cool’ that he’s lost all sense of quality control and, overall, the film suffers for his woeful lack of insight.

This is a shame because there are enough excellent moments here to convince you that the film could have been superb, if only McDonagh had managed to rein in some of its baser elements. As it stands, this can only be described as a great big missed opportunity.

3 stars

Philip Caveney

Amanda Knox

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03/10/16

Amanda Knox is a household name, known around the world as a convicted murderer, a promiscuous young woman who killed her flatmate, Meredith Kercher, as part of a twisted sex game. No matter that her conviction has been overturned; no matter that the stories about her are founded on nothing more than prejudice and conjecture: her infamy precedes her, and those who’ve swallowed the tabloid tales remain convinced of her guilt.

This Netflix documentary doesn’t ask whether she’s guilty; her innocence is assumed as a given, and – once we hear the self-satisfied testimonies of Giuliano Mignini, the chief prosecutor, and Nick Pisa, a tabloid journalist – it’s easy to see why. By his own admission, Mignini finds Knox’s behaviour inappropriate: he doesn’t like the fact that she is seen kissing her boyfriend just hours after learning of her flatmate’s death, and paints her as the ‘whore’ to Kercher’s ‘Madonna'(“Maybe,” he hypothesises, “Meredith didn’t like coming home to find men in in her house…”). There’s literally no evidence to support Knox’s conviction, except for a soon-retracted confession, extracted after several gruelling hours of being interviewed/harangued and slapped around the head. Mignini is just a misogynist, reading a young woman’s sexuality as a sign of evil.

Nick Pisa doesn’t fare any better: he relishes the salacious details Mignini feeds to the press, laughing and crowing at the scoop, openly revelling in the fact that there’s blood, murder, young women, sex. Juxtaposed with footage of the crime scene, and interviews with Kercher’s family, the sheer heartlessness of this is hard to watch. And the tabloid’s gleeful exploitation of poor Kercher’s death means that Knox’s life is also destroyed: a young woman, wrongly accused of a dreadful crime, her diary exposed to the world, her (frankly unremarkable) sex life made public and used to shame her… for what?

Her boyfriend, Raffaele Sollecito, was always portrayed as her dupe, a nice young man being manipulated by a Jezebel. What emerges here is a different view: he is indeed a nice young man – and as innocent as his girlfriend of this revolting crime.

Okay, so this isn’t as detailed an exposé as Serial or Making a Murderer – it would be interesting to learn more about how the judicial system got it so wrong – but it’s a compelling documentary nonetheless, and at least gives Knox an opportunity to set her critics straight.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

 

Deepwater Horizon

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03/10/16

The name is synonymous with one of the worst industrial accidents of all time. In April 2010, the titular drilling rig suffered a catastrophic explosion that spilled millions of tonnes of crude oil into the Gulf of Mexico, causing untold damage to the eco-system. The environmental impact was unprecedented – but Peter Berg’s film is much more concerned with the human story behind the disaster. One hundred and twenty six crew members worked aboard the Deepwater Horizon and, sadly, not all of them lived to tell the story.

The events are seen largely from the POV of engineer Mike Williams (Mark Wahlberg). We first join him at his home, shortly before he leaves for an eventful three-week shift on the drilling platform and we catch his interplay with his wife, Felicia (Kate Hudson) and his young daughter, Sydney (Stella Allen). Barely ten minutes in, we care about him. And then we’re aboard the rig, watching as he goes about his daily routine, exchanging pleasantries with the other crew members and noting the concerns of safety officer, Jimmy Harrell (Kurt Russell), who feels that safety checks are being ignored because the drilling is forty three days behind schedule, something that’s encouraged by BP executive, Vidrine (John Malkovich, playing a character almost as oily as the stuff the crew are drilling for). Of course, history tells us that something went badly wrong and the suspense racks steadily up to the moment when it actually does.

From here on, we’re in disaster movie territory, as all hell breaks loose. It’s a horribly immersive experience and there’s barely time to draw breath as the crew run desperately around the rig, trying to stay alive. Strangely, it’s only after the blitzkrieg of special effects is over that the emotions are hit – there’s a key scene here that had me filling up and it will be a stony individual indeed, who doesn’t feel similarly compelled.

Ultimately, Deepwater Horizon is a tale of heroism – both Williams and Harrell went far beyond what might have been expected of people in such circumstances. It also makes for a thrilling cinematic experience. As the credits roll, we see the real people behind the story, who – surprise, surprise – are nothing like as photogenic as the actors who portray them, but it drives home the fact that this is a true story, where once again corporate greed puts profits above human lives.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

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01/10/16

Based on the popular novel by Ransom Riggs, Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children is a Tim Burton film, that doesn’t feature his usual cohort of friends/family and is largely set in North Wales. Jake (Asa Butterfield) is unusually close to his secretive Grandfather, Abe (a scenery-chewing Terence Stamp) who often regales him with stories about a children’s home he spent time in during the Second World War.

When Abe is (rather horrifically) murdered by an odd looking monster (one that appears to have stepped out of a Guillermo Del Toro film), Jake accompanies his hapless father, Franklin (Chris O Dowd) to the remote Welsh island where the home was located and which is now no more than a burned out ruin. Jake has a vague notion of finding some answers about his Grandpa’s death, but almost before you can say ‘time travel’ Jake has somehow found his way back to the 1940s, where the home functions in a weird time-loop, presided over by the titular Miss Peregrine (a remarkable turn from Eva Green) who amongst her many talents has the ability to transform herself into a bird of prey. The children at the home all have odd powers of their own which range from invisibility to internal bee-keeping and the possession of a second mouth at the back of the neck. (Always handy). But the home is under threat from the evil creatures that control the monsters. They are led by Barron (Samuel L Jackson) a vile looking shape-shifter with a predilection for eating human eyeballs…

Like most Burton movies, this is often very nice to look at (he started off as an illustrator and that always shows) but there’s something curiously unengaging about the film, which is packed full of over-complicated incident, yet rarely manages to exert any kind of grip on the attention. It seems to go on for an inordinately long time, before it finally reaches a climax in an exotic location (Blackpool) where screenwriter Jane Goldman has to find something useful for every one of those peculiar kids to do. Despite all the monsters rampaging across the screen, there’s no real sense of threat here and it isn’t very enlightened to have the one black actor in the film cast as a child-murdering villain.

There are admittedly a few nice moments dotted about (a spirited tribute to the ‘fighting skeletons’ sequence from Ray Harryhausen’s Jason and the Argonauts being one of them) but ultimately this isn’t Burton’s finest moment. For a film that’s so packed with fantasy elements, MPHFPC is long on exposition and woefully short of magic.

2.9 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Hell or High Water

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30/09/16

Brothers, Toby and Tanner Howard (Chris Pine and Ben Foster) are industriously robbing a series of small banks in West Texas and going to great lengths to conceal all evidence of their crimes. They aren’t doing it for the usual reasons, though, but in a desperate attempt to pay off a crippling loan on their late mother’s ranch, in order to secure the future of Toby’s two sons from his failed marriage. When the robberies come to the attention of aging Texas Ranger, Marcus Hamilton, (Jeff Bridges), he resolves to solve one last case before he retires…

Hell Or High Water is a searing look at the underbelly of America, where ordinary people struggle to make ends meet and where the real criminals (at least in the view of writer Taylor Sheridan) are the bankers, who make a rich living from foreclosing on those who can no longer afford to pay for their homes. It’s a side of the USA we rarely glimpse in movie theatres and for that at least, it deserves our attention. There’s plenty here to enjoy. Bridges excels as the crusty-as-last-month’s-tortillas lawman, forever bickering with his Native American partner, Alberto (Gil Parker), while lamenting a way of life that seems as doomed as the ranchers we glimpse herding their cattle away from a raging brushfire. And can we really take wholeheartedly against the Tanner brothers, when they are in such a desperate plight?

This is an unapologetically elegiac story, as stripped and spare as the desert landscapes in which the events take place – but as with Sheridan’s previous script, Sicario, it’s almost exclusively a man’s world and you’ll have to look very hard indeed to spot a properly developed female character. Forget the Bechdel test – all we are offered here is a parade of hookers, harpies and harridans – a shame, because just like Sicario, this is an otherwise assured production, strong on action and the hard bitten verbal interplay between its main characters.

The ending hints at unfinished business but wisely leaves us wanting closure. It’s a lean, taut action movie but the inclusion of some decent female characters would have lent it more depth, and assured it a higher score from yours truly. It’s good, but ultimately a bit of a missed opportunity.

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney

The Magnificent Seven

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26/09/16

This was always going to be an important film for me. In 1960, when I was nine year’s old, my father took me to see John Sturges’ original version of The Magnificent Seven. It’s one of the first movies I can remember seeing on the big screen. I recall being thrilled by it and it was certainly instrumental in kindling the flames of what would become a lifelong obsession with all things celluloid. But of course, its storyline (itself inspired by Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai) wouldn’t really fly in this day and age. It tells the story of seven heroic cowboys who come to the aid of a village full of ‘lowly’ Mexican peasants who are being terrorised year after year by a gang of marauding bandits. If somebody was going to remake this particular classic, they would have to find a new approach – and to director Antoine Fuqua’s credit, he’s managed to do that.

If this version of the tale resembles another classic Western, it’s actually High Noon, where a bunch of townsfolk fail to come together to challenge a force of evil. Here, the denizens of Rose Creek are threatened not by bandits but by greedy industrialist Bartholomew Bogue (Peter Sarsgaard, doing the latest in a long line of creepy, evil stinkers). Bogue wants the land on which the town is built so he can mine it for gold and has offered each family a pittance in exchange for what they own. Anyone who  defies him is summarily executed and this includes the husband of Emma Cullen (Hayley Bennett), who, looking for revenge, sets out to recruit some help and chances upon law officer, Chisolm (Denzel Washington) as he goes about his deadly duty. He listens to her tale of woe and finally gets interested when she mentions Bogue. It’s clear from the start that there is some unfinished business between the two men. Chisolm promptly recruits a band of misfit heroes to help him rescue the town… they comprise an ex-confederate sniper (Ethan Hawke), a roguish gambler (Chris Pratt) a Mexican gunslinger (Manuel Garcia-Rulfo) a Chinese knife fighter (Byung Hun-Lee), a native American bowman (Martin Sensmeier) and a shambling mountain man (a barely recognisable Vincent Donofrio).

From there on, it’s pretty much a series of spectacular shootouts, set amidst stunning widescreen locations. (There’s an irony here in that the seven set out to protect Rose Creek and by the film’s conclusion, there’s not much of it left standing, but we’ll let that one go). Critics have complained that the film isn’t realistic (no, really?) but I think they’re missing the point somewhat. As a rip-roaring entertainment, The Magnificent Seven mostly succeeds in its aims and if it doesn’t quite match up to its famous progenitor, well, that was a shootout it was frankly never going to win, because what passed for valour in 1960 is going to look pretty reprehensible in 2016.

My favourite bit of dialogue in this version? Emma Cullen proudly telling the other townspeople that she’s quite clearly the only one with enough balls to take on the bad guys. Give this movie a fighting chance – it’s at least earned the right to that.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney