Mark Bonnar

Napoleon

25/11/23

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Over his long career, Ridley Scott has taken on all manner of subjects, in pretty much every genre you can name. It’s interesting to note that his very first feature film, The Duelists, was set during the Napoleonic era, so perhaps it was only a matter of time before he returned to the period and took on the story of the little Corsican – a subject that has brought many other directors to their personal Waterloo. In this particular case, it’s taken forty-six years to get there.

Some cinephiles will tell you that the ultimate Napoleon movie has already been realised way back in 1927, when Abel Gance produced a staggering version of the great man’s life under the same title. It was certainly remarkable and I speak as someone who sat through one of Kevin Brownlow’s restorations of the film in the early 80s – all five and a half hours of it (complete with a live symphony orchestra and several judicious toilet breaks). Compared to that, Scott’s two hours and thirty-eight minutes seems relatively jaunty.

Those who have complained that this version is historically inaccurate may be missing the point. Scott is clearly far more interested in the legend than the reality. It’s a matter of record, for instance, that Napoleon probably owes his defeat at Waterloo to the fact that he suffered from bleeding haemorrhoids and couldn’t sit on his horse – but that’s a film that nobody wants to see.

And yes, Joaquin Phoenix may be too old for this role, and surely needed some de-ageing for those early scenes, but he makes a great job of it, mining the man’s hubris and determination to the core, even descending into brattishness when taunted with the spectre of England’s superior navy. Vanessa Kirby offers up a more opaque Josephine, playing everything so close to her bosom that we’re never entirely sure if she actually loves her husband or merely sees him as her personal plaything. Their complex relationship is at the beating heart of this film and perhaps it would have been more fairly titled Napoleon and Josephine.

The inevitable result is that pretty much everybody else in the film is reduced to cameo roles, including Rupert Everett as the Duke of Wellington and an unusually hirsute Mark Bonnar as Napolean’s early confidante, Junot. David Scarpa’s screenplay makes a determined attempt to find some humour amidst all the pomp and misery.

But of course, Scott is the king of spectacle and if it’s battle scenes you’re looking for, there are plenty of them here, so thrillingly recreated that I find myself wincing at every explosion, every visceral thrust of a sabre. Each of the major confrontations is depicted in a different way and I particularly relish the scenes set in the Russian winter, where Napoleon is left bewildered by the fact that his adversaries refuse to meet him on the battlefield, even choosing to torch Moscow rather that surrender it to him. This is stirring stuff, the awful choreography of destruction played with absolute conviction and I cannot think of a director who could have made a better job of it.

Producers Apple Films have already announced that a four hour plus director’s cut of Napoleon is waiting somewhere down the line, and while this has worked for Scott before with Kingdom of Heaven, I’m not convinced that a longer film can hope to add much to the exhilarating theatrical release, which has me gripped pretty much from start to finish.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Scenes for Survival

27/08/20

BBC iPlayer/YouTube

Scenes for Survival is a series of short digital artworks created by leading Scottish theatre and screen talent, co-produced by the BBC and the National Theatre of Scotland.

It’s a mixed bag, that’s for sure, a veritable cornucopia of ideas, all inspired by or relating to lockdown. Their variety is their strength; there is a sense of universality, of common suffering. Some of them are frustratingly short: the briefest of glimpses into a situation or psyche, and – inevitably – some are better than others, although they’re all high quality, as they should be, with actors, writers and directors of such calibre.

The obvious standout so far (they’re still being made) is Fatbaws, written by Douglas Maxwell and performed by Peter Mullan. It’s a simple, cheeky little idea – a man being bullied by the birds in his garden – but the writing is exquisite and Mullan’s performance is jaw-droppingly good, a masterclass in character acting. No mean feat when two of the characters are a crow and a pigeon.

I also like Larchview by Rob Drummond, where Mark “Ubiquitous” Bonnar plays a disgraced minister making a public apology for breaking lockdown rules. His progression from phoney contrition to peevish defensiveness is deftly conceived, and there’s redemption too, as he begins to hear the emptiness of his excuses, and a real sense of remorse emerges. It’s cleverly humanising – and Lord knows our politicians need a bit of that.

Alan Cummings stars in Johnny McKnight’s twisty three-parter, Out of the Woods. It’s a shaky hand-cam thriller, depicted as a series of FaceTime calls between a man and his mother and his child. He’s creeping through the woods to his estranged partner’s house; he’s picking up their daughter, but her other dad is not to know…

But honestly, even if these don’t appeal, there are so many to choose from, there’s something here for everyone. Retired Inspector Rebus (Brian Cox – not that one) puts in an appearance, courtesy of Ian Rankin, and there are contributions from many of Scotland’s best-loved creatives, including Val McDermid, Elaine C Smith and Janey Godley.

So, take a peek. See what tickles your fancy. Because strong original content has been a rarity for the past few months, and these are a real treat, as well as a vital documentation of our times.

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield