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Rambo (2008)
Get in, get out, no distractions.
As the rather contrived title of my review suggests, this film is rather like the mission which it portrays. It exists to serve one purpose: Deliver a level of (literally) visceral action we have not seen in 20 years.
There has rarely been a vessel better suited to this type of endeavour than Stallone as Rambo. Rambo has become the movies' definitive man of action over words. The history of the character (and of the actor playing him) imbue the entire film with the sense that once that low activation energy has been reached, a chain reaction is set in motion which cannot be stopped. Put a bee in Rambo's bonnet, and he doesn't so much shake it out as eat the freaking hat, bug and all.
Do not go in expecting a parable for modern American foreign policy, or any astute political observations on the Burmese situation. Do not expect award-worthy performances or dialogue. This film is here to punt your balls into your throat, and it does so with no mercy and no remorse.
The only reason it doesn't get 9 stars is because it's too damn short.
Diarios de motocicleta (2004)
Beautiful
Walter Salles' (Central Station, co-produced City of God) new film tells the story of the young Ernesto 'Che' Guevara's voyage around South America with his friend Alberto 'Mial' Granado, and the discoveries and personal journey made during the 12000km+ trip. I'll start with the negatives, or negative (for there is only one). I haven't read Che Guevara's diaries, on which the film is based. Nor, indeed, do I know much about his life or his work as a revolutionary. Nonetheless as a 'Great Man's Origins' story, in which category this film definitely sits, the whole thing feels a little too convenient; the influences too obvious, the references too direct. You know throughout this film exactly where it's heading. Having said that, maybe it was foolish of me to expect anything else from a biopic of such a passionately adored character. But that is my only gripe. Set aside the above issue, and what you are left with is a beautiful, beautiful tale well told of two friends sharing an extraordinary experience. I was surprised at Salles' ability to differentiate the characters so clearly despite their almost identical reactions to most situations and events. I was half anticipating de la Serna's Mial to become the antagonist to Garcia Bernal's 'Fuser' (Guevara's childhood nickname) at some point in the film, but that never happened. Instead, Salles' chooses to use Mial as the engine, bouncing off Fuser's introspection to keep the story moving along. In doing so, Mial might be in danger of becoming little more than a plot device, but Salles carves him into a character of equal standing to Guevara, the oil to Fuser's vinegar. De la Serna's performance brings out the quality of the writing of his part; the vices and foibles of the young man, his humour, insatiable appetite for women, and silver tongue are all delightfully handled. By contrast, Bernal's performance is one of introspection. The odd melodramatic asthma attack aside (I'm an asthmatic myself - if you were that hyper during an attack, you'd be dead in about 30 minutes), his performance is spot on. From his leaving his family behind at the start of the film, through his first moment of violent rebellion (throwing a rock at an abusive mining company truck), to his explaining to his friend at the end why he needs to spend a long while alone, Bernal is not overcome by the magnitude of the man he is portraying. He plays him as a kid on his first real adventure away from home, much like any pre-college teen in the UK on his GAP year. The beauty is in the subtleties, and through nuances he suggests that what he witnesses and experiences over those thousands of miles will stay with him and shape him for many years to come. Not much to be said about the rest of the cast. The supporting players do well, even if not a one of them is on screen for longer than about 5 minutes through the whole film. The diversity of locations is astounding, Salles' giving a real sense of what South America might have been almost half a century ago. He finds indigenous Peruvians who still speak Quechua, he shoots in an unspoilt Amazon of timber huts and rafts, he even gathered a skeleton crew (I'm guessing here) and got genuine footage of his two leads in Machu Picchu. This is all ably, and at times beautifully, shot by Eric Gautier (Intimacy). It being about a week now since I saw the film, it has had a chance to settle. The strongest feeling I have for the film now is wonderment. I want to read Che's diaries, I want to go back to South America, I want to meet all these extraordinary people. But above all I want to see the film again, see a young man to whom I can relate, not a revolutionary giant whose name perhaps holds more significance now than his deeds, whose face is emblazoned on more posters and t-shirts than James Dean. Fuser is just a kid like any other. In this film we come to understand how he became Che Guevara, a man unlike any other. If this isn't a shoo-in for a best foreign film Oscar nom, I'll eat my hat. It's gorgeous. The film. Not my hat.
The Trick (1997)
Unexpected, and all the better for it.
I saw this short almost before I was aware short films existed. Back in the days when cinemas still screened shorts before features (I could have sworn it was earlier than '97), I happened upon this little gem quite by accident at my local.
Although my memory of it is rather sketchy, the fact that I remember it at all well is testament to its power as a short. Bereft of dialogue, The Trick is set at an audition for magicians. After an amusing opening effort involving a raw fish (if memory serves), the next audition comes in with no props at all.
Or so it seems.
He pulls a small pen from his breast pocket, and in a succession of clicks, twists, and peels he produces a door. From the pen. He walks through the door and leaves the jury waiting for him to emerge from the other side. He does not, so one of them goes up to investigate, but finds that the magician has vanished. he tentatively opens the door, and... ..I won't spoil it any more than I already have, but the short reminded me somewhat of the milkman sketch by Monty Python, not just in plot but also in tone. Very haunting.
And the props master deserves an Oscar for what he did with that pen.
Big Fish (2003)
Burton back to his best.
Astonishingly original.
Messr's Wallace and August have provided Burton with a script full of warmth and just quirky enough for Burton to cut loose on. Assured direction, aided by fantastic production design from Dennis Gassner and some beautiful cinematography bring out the best of this story and its characters. At some points some characters are deliberately fantastical, the gloss serving to draw smiles ever more willingly from the enraptured audience.
That is not to say that the film is without its mischief. To my mind, one of Burtons's greatest and most defining traits is his ability to quite sharply and deliberately sidestep the proscribed path and follow it at a tangent. He was denied this opportunity by the conformist powers that be for Planet of the Apes, and the film suffered for it. This film contains some of the most delightful examples of said mischief yet, in particular the achingly funny resolution to Ewan Macgregor's confrontation with two martial arts masters in a tent. Tops the Raiders of the Lost Ark "shoot the swordsman" scene for sheer sight gag delight, and is especially biting in this age of wire-fu and CG super-brawls.
So people will insist on throwing hyperbole and comparisons upon this film. The hyperbole will largely be down to the relative lack of pre-release exposure for the film, and the comparisons to other films of fantasy and life stories can largely be ignored. This film is as original as any major studio release since Adaptation, and people's wish to pidgeonhole it or stand it up against films which are a mile away tonally, in content or execution might eventually be its downfall, which is a crushing shame, as it deserves so much more than that.
Burton's assurance on this film has resulted in his best of recent times, evoking memories of The Nightmare before Christmas and Edward Scissorhands, but ultimately Big Fish is far warmer than these, or indeed anything he has ever approached before. Let us hope that with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory he will continue to pick up where he left off in the early nineties.
Ying xiong (2002)
Knocks Crouching Tiger... into a cocked hat.
Now, I don't purport to be any great fan of Chinese period Martial Arts films, nor do I know much of them, but I found Crouching Tiger a little underwhelming. The stilted nature of the leads relationship, although deliberate, grated somewhat with the platonic love idea. I could at no point detect why there was, or ever had been, any feelings from either towards the other. This distraction, and the incomprehensible significance of the sword, pulled me away from engaging in what was otherwise a wonderful film.
Hero shares none of these faults. The story, although similarly told in flashbacks, and in multiple permutations, was far more engaging, linearly easy to grasp, while not being dumb. The photography was beautiful, the effects magnificently well used, and the scale of film beggars belief.
I could find no fault with this film, and only stop short of proclaiming it the best period martial arts film ever, because, well, it's just about the only one I've ever seen. The clarity of the story, the uncluttered, simple yet unforgettably beautiful cinematography and the functionality of the fight/battle sequences are, for myself at least, something of a benchmark.
An American Werewolf in London (1981)
22 years on, more astounding than ever.
I freely admit that I am prone to superlatives when it comes to early John Landis films, but in the case of this particular gem that is because he went so utterly against the mainstream and still carved something accessible but with myriad layers of depth, which still gets the synapses firing a generation later. The joy of the script is perfectly complemented by the offbeat improv of the central characters. The naturalistic tongue-in cheek tone that the 2 American protagonists maintain throughout most of the movie has not dated but, if anything, become more enjoyable, as filmgoers today are much more receptive to genre-bending than they were when this first came out. Indeed, this was one of the first films to successfully combine horror and comedy, which has since become a staple sub-genre in itself (see the Scream saga, Dog Soldiers, etc.) Many dismiss the ending as too abrupt, or downbeat, or just out of keeping with the rest of the film. But the same people will also be unable to come up with a better alternative. Building through the the film is a dark undercurrent, and this sense of malaise comes to a head when David attempts to take his own life in the phone booth in piccadily. This comes directly after trying to contact his parents for the last time, only for his youngest sibling to pick up, alone in the house, and we are left with the distinct impression that the parents will never in fact get the message David asked Max to pass on. If the film had been edited around Jenny Agutter's Alex, we would have a great modern tragedy. Watching it through her eyes is heartbreaking. Istill remember the first time I watched this; it scared the pants off me. The second time I laughed my arse off. On every viewing since then I have come away with something different and new. This is a film that has already proven it can stand the test of time and gets better with repeated viewings and age. Give it a few years, I think it'll be in more than a few official top 10 lists. Oh, and did I mention the special effects?
The Gathering Storm (2002)
Character-driven piece on the private life of the Great Man.
A novel take on one of the most heavily documented characters of the 20th century, this TV drama manages to portray Churchill as infinitely more than the caricature that he has become since the events here detailed. It achieves this in many ways, but I would most like to highlight the subtlety of the writing, which is beautifully teased out by a refined and engrossing performance by Albert Finney. The supporting performances are as solid as you would expect from such a who's who of British Drama, but not once do they draw attention away from the heart of the piece, which is Winston's home life and its relationship with his work. Within the family unit, mention must go to newcomer Tom Hiddleston, playing the great man's son Randolph. He holds his own well in such awesome company, and judging from his onscreen relationship with Finney and Redgrave, I think we will see much more of him in the years to come.