Pierce Brosnan

The Thursday Murder Club

01/09/25

Netflix

Oh dear. The first film of the month and it’s a stinker. I haven’t read Richard Osman’s best-selling novel (cosy crime isn’t really my thing) but I’m sure it deserves a better adaptation than this. His podcasts (which I do listen to) show him to be clever and erudite. This movie is neither.

All the right pieces are in play: popular source material, a stellar cast, the prettiest of English villages. There’s even cake – but sadly not enough to sweeten this twaddle.

The Thursday Murder Club comprises four wealthy pensioners: Elizabeth (Helen Mirren), Ibrahim (Ben Kingsley), Ron (Pierce Brosnan) and Joyce (Celia Imrie). They live in a stately home called Coopers Chase, which has been converted into the the most luxurious retirement apartments imaginable, and pass their time investigating the cold case files their fellow resident, Penny (Susan Kirkby), a former detective, has somehow managed to hold onto.

But when money-grubbing landowner, Ian Ventham (David Tennant), reveals his plans to redevelop Coopers Chase, murder is no longer confined to the past. The privileged pensioners can barely conceal their glee at having something real to get their dentures into, much to the dismay of local police officers, Chris Hudson (Daniel Mays) and Donna de Freitas (Naomi Ackie).

Amidst the lightweight sleuthing, some serious issues are raised, including people-trafficking and dementia. But these are hopelessly out of place, treated so glibly that it feels very uncomfortable. There’s some real snobbery at play here too, presumably unconscious: the working-class-man-made-good with his loud voice and tacky McMansion; the upper-class oldies with their mellow tones and oh-so-tasteful decor.

I want to find nice things to say because it’s Helen Mirren, for God’s sake. But hers isn’t even the most wasted talent – at least she’s in a lot of scenes. The wonderful Ruth Sheen barely gets a look in as Aunt Maud. (What’s the purpose of this character? She adds nothing to the plot.)

To quote a catchphrase that’ll only mean something to Gen X, here’s my suggestion: Just Switch Off Your Television Set and Go and Do Something Less Boring Instead.

2 stars

Susan Singfield

Black Bag

15/03/25

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Meanwhile, back in the most unconvincing retirement since Frank Sinatra announced his ‘final’ tour, Steven Soderbergh has a new film. (We reviewed his previous effort, Presence, in January.) So he’s more productive than most of his peers and, if it sometimes feels as though he’s simply ticking some boxes here – “Ooh, I haven’t done a proper spy movie before!” – Black Bag is yet another notch on his belt, even if it seems like his latest opus is a little too understated for comfort.

British intelligence officer George Woodhouse (Michael Fassbender) is contacted by his superior, ‘Meachum’ (Gustaf Skarsgaard), to investigate the leak of a top-secret software programme called ‘Severus.’ (It might just as readily have been named ‘McGuffin.) All we really know about Severus is that, if it falls into the wrong hands, thousands of people could die, though exactly how is a matter of conjecture. Meachum warns George that amongst the suspects is Woodhouse’s wife and fellow-operative, Kathryn (Cate Blanchett), who – George has to reluctantly admit to himself – has been behaving rather suspiciously of late. But he trusts her implicitly… doesn’t he? Meachum gives George a week to find out who is responsible but, shortly afterwards, Meachum succumbs to an unlikely heart attack and dies.

George is a meticulous operative and he promptly invites the four other suspects – all of them fellow spies – to a dinner party at his house, where he spikes a bowl of curry with a truth serum (after first warning Kathryn not to eat any). But who is the most likely candidate for this betrayal? Could it be satellite imagery expert, Clarissa (Marisa Abela)? Her current boyfriend, Freddie (Tom Burke), who is himself having an affair with… somebody? What about the agency psychiatrist, Zoe (Naomi Harris), who is privy to all their secrets? Or her current squeeze, James (Regé Jean Page), a man who is perhaps a little too cool and handsome to be entirely trustworthy?

To add a little extra spice, the agency’s overall boss, Arthur Steiglitz (Pierce Brosnan), would also appear to have some skin in the game…

Black Bag is, I suppose, a slice of cold-war claustrophobia. The title refers to the two-word excuse given by operatives when they don’t want their recent escapades to be investigated too closely. Soderburgh keeps everything bubbling along as David Koepp’s script switches slickly back and forth between the various machinations, and there are some cyber-tech scenes where suspects are investigated by hidden cameras… but there’s a problem here: it’s that I’m simply not invested enough in the characters to care what happens to them. The most interesting scene is the one where the four suspects undergo lie-detector tests and Soderbergh has fun cutting back and forth between their respective POVs, but that’s not really enough to keep me hooked through the entire hour-and-a-half run time.

And the closing scene’s final ‘twist’ doesn’t feel like enough justification for the whole enterprise. So, decent-ish, I guess, but certainly not up there with the director’s finest work.

So, let’s see what he has up his sleeve. It occurs to me that he’s never really done a cannibal holocaust movie. Who knows? It could just happen.

3.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Eurovision Song Contest : The Story of Fire Saga

26/06/20

Netflix

There’s a wonderful idea at the heart of Will Ferrell’s Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga – even if it does boast one of the most unwieldy titles in recent cinematic history. Ferrell plays Icelander Lars Erickssong, a petulant man-child with a determination to win the world’s biggest song contest, an ambition nurtured since childhood when he saw first Abba performing Waterloo. He and his best friend, Sigrit Ericksdottir (Rachel McAdams), perform as pop duo Fire Saga, who play regularly in their local bar to the complete indifference of their neighbours. Even Lars’ father, Erick Erikssong (Pierce Brosnan) – a no-nonsense fisherman – makes it clear that it’s time his son stopped fooling around with music and got a proper job.

But when a series of complex misadventures results in Fire Saga being picked to appear in the regional heats for Eurovision, Lars has his eyes so firmly on the big prize, he is blithely unaware of Sigrit’s long held desire to make their relationship more than just a musical one.

Perhaps the film’s strongest suit is the songs, composed by Atli Övarsson and Savan Kotecha, which, with their “accidentally” suggestive lyrics and bombastic singalong choruses are convincing enough to pass muster as genuine Eurovision entries, whilst still consistently hitting the funny button. But not everything is quite as satisfying here. Having Icelandic characters played by American and English actors might invite accusations of cultural appropriation, especially when those characters are depicted as simplistic, superstitious oafs who believe in the existence of elves. Having genuine Icelanders in supporting roles, including the wonderful Ólafur Darri Ólaffsson, isn’t really enough to stave off those accusations.

On a similar note, Dan Stevens appears as Russian mega-star Alexander Lemtov, who soon begins to pursue Sigrit with singular determination. Again, he’s entertaining, but his motives are never really clear. Perhaps Ferrell, who co-wrote the script, was thinking of some real-life gay musical icons who went through the pretence of heterosexuality in order to placate their fans? Whatever the reasoning, this doesn’t quite come off.

But those reservations aside, I have to admit I am mightily entertained by ESCTSOFS and even feel somewhat moved by its final act. I am also delighted to note that much of the action is set in my home city of Edinburgh (it’s the host for the Eurovision final). Furthermore it’s good to see Ferrell back on some kind of form. If I’m honest, it’s a long time since any of his efforts have made me laugh. A shout out here should go to Molly Sanden who provides the vocals for Sigrit’s performances – and there’s me thinking, ‘Wow, McAdams really can sing!’

If you’re looking for an undemanding, good-time film to while away a couple of hours, you could do a lot worse than this.

3.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again

23/07/18

The reviews have been astonishing: Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again is, we’re told, a glorious piece of feelgood fun; moreover, it has the emotional heft to make us cry. We’re surprised: we’re ABBA fans (because the music is undeniably good, right?) but we both found the first film a sort of okay-watchable-quite-good-nothing-special kind of thing. So what makes it so much better this time?

Sadly, the answer is… nothing. Nothing makes it better, because it isn’t better: it’s worse. It’s weirdly patchy: some genuinely awful sequences interspersed with lovely moments. All together, it’s a mess. Most of it (the prequel section) tells a back story we already know, fleshed out without revealing anything. There are no surprises here. The sequel section fares better, with the multi-talented Amanda Seyfried (Sophie) bringing a much-needed sincerity to proceedings, and wringing every ounce of emotion from the songs (One of Us, which she sings with her estranged husband, Sky (Dominic Cooper), is the highlight of the film for me).

The prequel takes us back to 1979, when Donna (Lily James), freshly graduated from Oxford, unsure of what she wants from life, decides to seek adventure and takes herself off travelling. In Paris, she meets Harry (Hugh Skinner); charmed by his geeky naïvety, she spends the night with him before heading off alone to Greece. En route to the unnamed island idyll that claims her, she meets Stellan Skarsgård’s younger incarnation (Josh Dylan), but he’s off to take part in a boat race, and – while he’s gone – she falls for Sam (Jeremy Irvine), the Pierce Brosnan-a-like, who is absolutely perfect – except for the fiancée he forgets to tell her about. James is a charismatic performer, and her vocal skills are more than up to the challenge (which is more than can be said for poor Hugh Skinner, who has definitely been cast because he resembles Colin Firth, and not because he has any discernible musical ability). Her character is flighty and foolish, making literally no use of that Oxford degree, but she’s engaging and entertaining, and she makes us care about her.

Not much happens in the sequel, which is a shame, because it has all the best songs and all the best actors. I mean, Sophie gets pregnant and feels close to her dead mother, and there’s a party that’s threatened by a storm, but that’s about it. True, Cher is a camp delight, appearing as Sophie’s errant grandmother and stealing the show, and Dancing Queen proves the perfect accompaniment to a lively, animated crowd scene. But honestly, that’s all there is.

There are huge missteps too. I hate the graduation scene where Donna and her friends (Jessica Keenan Wynn and Alexa Davies) sing I Kissed the Teacher to a badly accented Celia Imrie (I think she’s supposed to be Scottish, but I can’t be sure). They’ve changed ‘he’ to ‘she’ in a bid to make the lyrics somehow more palatable, but I can’t see what difference it makes – it’s a good song, but the sentiment is undeniably creepy when filtered through a 2018 lens. It makes me most uncomfortable.

Ach, I don’t know. It’s just a load of mawkish nonsense, unpalatably sentimental and as silly as can be. Thank you for the music, ABBA – but can we stop filming this fluff?

2.8 stars

Susan Singfield

The Love Punch

MV5BMTcyNjAyOTMxMV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwMTM5NDc3MTE@._V1_SX214_AL_

6/12/14

Sometimes in cinema, you encounter a bit of fluff. And other times, you encounter double fluff with extra fluff and i suppose this is the file to which you would safely consign The Love Punch. This light comedy featuring more mature actors than you’d normally expect to see in this kind of story was probably aimed at the same audience that The Exotic Marigold Hotel mined so effectively, but it’s nothing like as assured and it has to be said, it’s profoundly silly, to boot.

Pierce Brosnan plays Richard, an affable chap who works for a multi-national company (in what capacity, we’re never entirely sure.) He’s divorced from Kate (Emma Thompson) with whom he maintain an affable friendship (cynics will mutter that we’re already straying into the realms of the unbelievable.) When the company is purchased by a ruthless asset-stripper, the pension scheme into which Richard and most of his staff have bought, (Kate too, as it happens) is rendered entirely worthless. The head asset-stripper decamps to Paris in order to get married and publicly purchases a ten million dollar diamond necklace for his beloved, whereupon Richard and Kate hatch a plan to pop across the channel and nick it (as you do.) They also enlist the help of their plucky neighbours, Penelope and Timothy (Celia Imrie and Timothy Spall) and with a confidence that belies their humble origins, the foursome set off to take on the bad guys.

The problem is, that the characters manage to assay their chosen mission with such aplomb everything seems faintly unbelievable. And more fatally, there’s never any real sense of danger, no fear that something might go wrong for them, even when Richard and Kate find themselves in the back of a van perched on the edge of a cliff. Obviously, the veteran actors all make the most of this meagre material and the film’s enough to pass an undemanding hour or so, but nothing more than that. This is perfunctory film-making at best. You’ll have forgotten the details before the credits have finished rolling. And will Richard and Kate get back together? Who cares?

2.8 stars

Philip Caveney