Film Review - W.E.

I'm a big fan of Madonna's. More for her music than her film career, but if anybody is going to see the good in a film she's co-written and directed, it's me.
Oh dear, then.
Actually, it's not quite that bad. It's gorgeous to look at; the cinematography, art direction, costumes, hair and make-up are all immaculate. Andrea Riseborough is phenomenal as Wallis Simpson, injecting her with an infectious verve by a simple glance over the shoulder, or the phrasing of an off-hand comment. Even Laurence Fox makes a decent job of reprising Colin Firth's Bertie, albeit in what is barely more than a cameo. And, of course, the Golden Globe-winning end credits song, performed by Her Madgesty herself, is rather lovely. Erm, did I mention the cinematography?
The story involves a rather dull woman, Wally- played by a dreadfully wooden Abbie Cornish- who, in 1998, becomes inexplicably obsessed with Wallis Simpson. As she plods through her miserable little life, her mind wanders off to the life of her idol, and we get random flashbacks of Wallis's developing relationship with Edward, Prince of Wales. Unfortunately, this 1998 story is exceptionally dull. Bad relationships exist, but Wally's relationship with her husband pushes credibility a bit far, as there appears to be no reason at all why these two would still be together. Every time the film flashes forward to this section, it grinds to a halt, and you're longing to be whisked away again. Permanently. It improves slightly as she befriends a "Russian intellectual" security guard at Sotheby's, but don't expect to be swept away by romance.
The Wallis/Edward sections are more successful, although their episodic nature is frustrating to watch. The story makes significant leaps where I would have preferred to see the filled-in gaps. This film is as much about Wallis & Edward as The Iron Lady is about Thatcher's political life.
Madonna's direction is confident and stylish, but there are times where more is less. Lots of close-ups, headlines, jewellery, jump-cuts, slo-mo... Sometimes, a scene just needs to play out. Madonna appears to suffer from ADD (or at least assume her audience does) as no shot seems to be held for longer than ten seconds. She has much to be proud of here, but ironically would likely have been more successful had she not tried so hard.

Film Review - Margin Call

Greed, it turns out, isn't quite so good after all. 

With the world on the brink of economic collapse, a rather timely film has been made to show us how this sort of thing happens. Well, sort of.

We get something of an after-the-fact account of a bank that has just discovered it has gambled too much, at too high a risk, and is due to implode. They decide, therefore, to sell off their debt-ridden assets as though they have value, to minimise the damage; the catch being that it will actually destroy the entire economy, rather than just the company. To paraphrase Jeremy Irons's character, "It's happened before, and it'll happen again. We can't help ourselves."

So this isn't so much an education on the banking crisis, what we actually have here instead is a pretty decent edge-of-the-seat thriller. The star-studded cast are all excellent, although Jeremy Irons and Paul Bettany do appear to suffer from the increasingly-familiar Wandering Accent Syndrome. The script is clear enough to follow, even if the specifics of complex economics are over your head (as they are mine).

Since the film ends before any kind of tax-payer bail-out would have occurred, the full implications of their actions are only hinted at. Even though we know these people are the enemy of civilization, the film does a pretty decent job of humanising them, and you may even find yourselves rooting for them, come the opening of trading. Fingers are pointed, bucks are passed, jobs are lost, promotions are made, and by the end it's difficult to know who's to blame anymore. The most accurate answer, of course, is all of them.

Film Review - J. Edgar

Much like The Iron Lady, this is one of those political biopics that's generated interest more for its central performance than story or plot. And I'm someone who finds Leonardo DiCaprio, like Tom Cruise, rather samey as an actor. Sometimes his performance is acclaimed, sometimes it isn't, and I usually can't tell the difference. Here, at last, I have seen a unique range in his performance that does stand out; and I do mean in a good way.
I've always found ageing makeup problematic in movies, as it's frequently unconvincing to the point where it's distracting. Here, the makeup on DiCaprio is noticeable, but believable, and I believe a lot of that is down to DiCaprio's performance. Old man Edgar moves and talks differently to young man Edgar. Armie Hammer, on the hand, demonstrates his acting inexperience here, as his "old man" is never convincing, despite his best efforts. I can't put my finger on what Hammer's doing wrong- I just know DiCaprio's got it right.
That said, whilst J. Edgar is certainly a better film than The Iron Lady, on a performance level, DiCaprio's doesn't even come close to Streep's.
In my opinion, a biopic is successful if it's told you the story of someone's life in a way that leaves you feeling like an authority on the subject. However, J. Edgar left me with an urge to Google. It seemed to assume I already knew who he (and several of his colleagues) were, and, mostly, I didn't. That may be down to my own lack of education, but surely any film needs to establish its characters on its own? I've certainly come to expect better from Clint Eastwood in recent years.

Film Review - War Horse

I will not cry. I will NOT cry. I WILL NOT CRY. Oh, damn you, Spielberg!
War Horse has divided critics; some claim it is Spielberg's best in years, and one of the best films of the year, others claim it's blatantly sentimental. The truth is, they're both valid arguments.
It's definitely Spielberg's best in years, but it doesn't take much to beat Indy 4, and Tin Tin felt twice as long as this, despite being much shorter. Gorgeous to look at, it has some truly stunning sequences, and from the moment the horse is cornered by a tank, the film takes off to another level, especially emotionally. Unfortunately, this comes at least two-thirds into the film, up until when it's been a rather plodding, clichéd watch.
Consisting of various vignettes as the horse moves from person to person, country to country, some are more successful than others, and regrettably the most tedious are also the longest. One in particular involving a girl and her grandfather is especially grating, largely due to the dreadful performance from the girl with a French accent straight out of 'Allo 'Allo.
She's not alone. Newcomer Jeremy Irvine, who plays the boy who trains and raises the horse, is little more than acceptable. It is largely due to his somewhat stiff performance that the first half of the film didn't resonate with me emotionally, and even the mighty Peter Mullan as the boy's father is given little more to do than hold back drunken hiccups.
Familiar faces come and go, and the story progresses in a way that's easy to follow and never boring, although there are moments that feel shockingly incompetent for someone of Spielberg's calibre.
But just as you've written the film off, the final acts grabs hold of you and shakes you until you cry. And once you start, you won't stop. You know how the final moments play out long before they happen, but there is emotionally something satisfying in that.

Film Review - Shame

Having made a rather big splash at the festival circuit last year, expectations have been high for this, as critics have been falling over themselves to sing its praises. However, a gritty British drama about sex addiction in New York is going to be something of a hard sell to a mainstream audience. No pun intended.
Much has been made of the explicit nature of its sex scenes, but anybody expecting to be titillated will be sorely disappointed. Yes, Michael "tripod" Fassbender has the kind of body that most men can only dream of, and there's more than enough female nudity to equal it, but to say it doesn't glamourise sex is an understatement. The emphasis isn't so much on the sex as it is on the addiction; the way an obsession can control you, and the detrimental effect it can have on your life and relationships.
This is a film that says more in its silence than it does in its dialogue. Its pace is carefully measured, and yet you still find yourself hoping that a central character can sort himself out, despite his having demonstrated some hugely unsympathetic behaviour, particularly towards his sister.
The film's conclusion is perfect- nicely circular and ambiguous enough to open up discussion- and this is the film's greatest strength. The more you talk about it, the better you realise it is. I'd recommend seeing it with somebody, but a date movie this is not.

Film Review - The Artist

Can a silent movie about the end of silent movies be relevant to a modern audience? No surround sound, no technicolor, no widescreen...? The answer is a resounding yes.
Cinema at its best is about keeping your eyes glued to the screen- whether you're looking at something beautiful, exciting, impressive, amusing, involving, emotional... Well, looking away is not an option here, but fortunately it has all of the above anyway.
From the off, Jean Dujardin is an utterly compelling screen presence. He has the requisite old-school looks, charm and sheer physical presence; conveying drama, humour and some pretty nifty footwork in the process, without coming across overly hammy (unless required). Berenice Bejo is just as captivating as the usurping new star Peppy Miller, beaming from the screen with an irresistible radiance.
But their symbiotic relationship is greater even than the sum of its parts. Their chemistry is palpable, and as the same forces that bring them together tear them apart, it leads to some genuinely edge-of-the-seat (and surprisingly dark) moments.
If I had a criticism, it might be that I didn't quite feel as emotional a connection as I would have liked, but that's not to say I wasn't wholly invested throughout.
And yes, the dog absolutely steals the show.

Film Review - Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

Basically more of a rehash of (rather than a sequel to) the over-rated 2009 film, I was unsure as to how I felt about the original and this has nicely cleared up matters.
I'm finding the Holmes/Watson relationship irritatingly smug (in a George Clooney/Brad Pitt in Ocean's 11 kind of way), and the oneupmanship between them (and again with Irene Adler) is extreme to the point where it actually doesn't make any sense. Considering these are people who supposedly have affection for each other, they seem more than happy to put each other in life-threatening situations. But of a laugh, innit? Well, no. It's repetitive, tedious, and complete bollocks.
Guy Ritchie's visual style is getting rather tired now. Sherlock, the supposed sleuth, spends far more time shooting and fighting in slow motion than he does doing any kind of actual sleuthing.
I'm as bored writing about it as I was watching it. I'm done. If there's a third one, I won't be attending.