Kill List - Film Review

The follow up to his 2009 crime family drama Up Terrace, Ben Wheatley here delivers what could tentatively be described as his mangum opus, a dark and disturbing thriller that is one part gritty crime story, other Wicker Man style horror, with plenitful mood whiplashes and foreboding.

Jay (Neil Maskell) is a former soldier and private contractor turned professional assassin, out of action for eight months following a traumatic job in Kiev which left him psychologically and physically damaged. When the money runs out due to his sabbatical, he is put under pressure by his knowing, glamourous wife Shel (MyAnna Buring), and young son Sam (Harry Simpson), to get back into the business, in part because his hot tub needs an expensive fix. Following a dinner party gone wrong, in spectacular style, Jay gives in and saddles up with best mate and fellow hitman Gal (Michael Smiley) on a new, seemingly simple contract; kill three men, none of them armed or particularly dangeous.

But in the tradition of such pitch black noir, things are simply not so straightforward. Alarm bells sound immediately as their client (Struan Rodger) seals the deal in blood, literally. Gal's date to the party Fiona (Emma Fryer) pops up suspiciously, both as a new friend of Jay's family and as a mysterious figure in his dreams. As their mission begins, amidst much banter and bravado from the two anti-heroes, more and more warning signs becoming audible, as Jay goes off-road, undone by curiosity about his marks, leading them both down a garden path of depravity and hideously violent retribution. The swirling madness around the pair grows in intensity, becoming deeply personal, hugely worrying, and ultimately insane.

The reason Kill List has such an impact is because it vehemently refuses to set its stall out from the start, instead just hints at the dark road ahead through lingering musical beats and thoughtful camera angles. We open with a domestic argument over bills and toilet roll, hinting rather than revealing at the unusual lifestyle of the central family. Jay is shown to be a caring father and decent husband, but one frustrated and pent up. Shel is portrayed as a loving mother and loyal wife, one who is simply strained by financial problems and Jay's malaise, driven to emotional phone calls to her mother in Swedish which Jay cannot understand. Small details like this, and honest characterisations that are never forced, make these people genuine from the off.

This authentic, almost mundane trait comes into its own with the introduction of Gal. The pair are great fun, with huge levels of bromance chemistry born from their time in the army and beyond, and they smirk at their dual wisecracks, thrive off their witty exchanges born out of years of familiarity. The naturalistic approach is enhanced by much of the dialogue in these scenes being improvised by Maskell and Smiley. That's not to say it's all just potty talk for minutes at a time, as scenes are levened by spectacular set pieces (such as Jay's growing fury at a Christian support group at a restaraunt), and shocking revelations. The film has two moral cores, that being Jay's family as his anchor, and Gal's friendship as his bond.

So the level of shocking is enhanced when things begin to get dark, and very very dark at that, quite suddenly. After a baffling first hit, in which their victim seems overjoyed and thanks his killers, the second dredges up more questions, and answers best left unseen by them breaking into the man's lockup and making a horrific discovery which sees Jay lead the crusade into psychotic punishment, beyond the call. It's a mistake, one that catches up with him. The violence in the film is in some parts routine, but when emotion is brought in becomes horrific and disturbing, every agony stricken moment of a hammer attack felt by the viewer. Sickening as it is, it's also entirely neccessary. Partly to make a point over the profession, also to give us a harrowing look into Jay's black heart that allows his occupation.

The film's final third, almost incomprehensible at times but never failing to engross, lays bare the film's themes and, perhaps, its purpose. Watched literally, it is a shocking, astonishing and deeply unsettling conclusion to a story which had built up to a nightmarish fever pitch, one which doesn't throw out answers and instead takes a whole new level of crazed horror because of the resolutions it doesn't provide.

However, seen metaphorically, it takes on a searing, infused moral parable, by means using character study and down and dirty Ken Loach style character base to let us connect to the players, and then bringing them into a twisted fairy tale of the depraved. Reminscent of the expression "the road to evil is paved with good intentions", Jay's ultimate fate is at the end of the road he started down when he abandoned professional antipathy and instead became a violent vigilante, and even before then by killing people anonymously in order to provide for his family. Much of the chaos that insues is down to his warped psyche, and his willingness to cave in skulls or destroy kneecaps. In the process of losing his soul truly, he loses everything around him. A phrase resonates, unheard or spoken, throughout: heart of darkness.

It's this kind of discussion which the film provokes, something you would never anticipate from reading the blurbs or DVD case plot summary, and why it lingers in the memory so vividly, and why it demands to be watched. Having pottered in the background as minor charaters in films of varying quality in the past, Neil Maskell delivers as the film's lead, a clenched ball of fury also capable of showing a caring, loving side, a 60/40 of dark and light, complex and at times highly intimidating, exactly as you would imagine a man of his ilk.

Rising star MyAnna Buring also brings depth to wife Shel, a role which in inferior hands would likely have been shrill. She manages to make her character a vivid tapestry of various emotions, many of them untouched but suggested by a withering stare of snarky comment. To most films of this ilk or set up, she is a plot device used to force the protagonist into action. In Kill List, she is a three dimensional character with real motives and feelings, living and breathing through the screen. The arguments between the characters, particularly during the virtuoso dinner party scene, are both great spectacles and dauntingly realistic.

And Northern Irish comedian Michael Smiley (best known for playing Tyres in Spaced) really delivers in a serious role, although his charisma and charm comes from Gal's comic traits, his funny one liners and wry humour. But his amiablity and trustworthiness is palpable, and he is the film's most likeable character, a dissolved voice of reason who happens to murder people for cash. Such is the skewed morality of the film.

If there's only one thing you can say of Kill List, it has to be its impact. It hits hard and low, astonishing and pulversing, shocking you to the core. This is a film that defies expectations and never lets you drop your guard, always ready to twist breakneck one way, then slam back the other. You feel every punch, every shot, every moment of pure horror and suspense. Described by one soundbite as "a cult classic in the making", this is indeed a film that is likely to build up a devoted fanbase, and much adulation in the process. Whether you understand it, or come to terms with its ending, is not so black and white, appropriately so.

9/10

Let The Right One In - Film Review

Swedish media really came into its element during the 2000s, what with the success of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (remake by David Fincher in cinemas now), and the surprise international interest in tv series Wallander (remade in English with Kenneth Branagah). And, the subject of yet another redo (which lost the point), is Tomas Alfredson's peculiar, heavily symbolic 2008 drama/horror hybrid, Let the Right One In.

The story concerns troubled, bullied young boy Oskar (Kade Hedebrant), the product of divorced parents, his father being an alcoholic, who has an unseemly interest in murder. One lonely night, he meets new neighbour Eli (Lina Leandersson), an odd girl with a suspicious lifestyle choices and an aversion to the biting winter cold. Tentatively, the pair become friends, and the strong willed, almost benevolent Eli provides submissive Oskar with a stronger core of courage to stand up to his tormentors, and a brighter outlook on life. However, the closer they become, the clearer her quirks her, to the point it is obvious she is not a normal human girl.

One of the glowing positives about Alfredson's film, penned by the original book's author, John Ajvide Lindqvist, is that I'm able to describe the plot with some clarity without mentioning the fact that the Eli's affliction is being a vampire. While countless dross of recent years has used this phenomenon as it's main selling point in the wave of money making Twilight led creative stagnancy, LTROI uses it as a means, and isn't afraid to display the ugly side of the mythological archetype.

While the subplot revolving around the community's disturbed detective work to find the vampire, following the death of a local (Mikael Rahm) connected to an earlier killing spree by Eli's carer Hakan (Per Ragnar), who was collecting blood for his master, focusses entirely on this plot device, it acts almost as a story compromise, neccessary to avoid the viewer becoming too distracted by the meshing of fantasy with realistic, matter of fact framing. Although even this drives home the piece's themes of stigma and victimisation. But the film's heart is very much a coming of age parable, a character driven emotional love story that needs the unreality of mythical creatures to make it's point.


As such, the friendship between Oskar and Eli is vitally played out in avoidance of cliched child's behaviour, and after a slow, cautious start, they begin to get to grips with each other and develop a humorous interest in their respective habits and quirks, growing to the point that Eli loathes her vampirism for posing a threat to their romance. Young Hedebrant and Leandersson manage to bring strong, subtle energies to their roles as equally unique and unconventional adolescents on the fringes of cultural belonging. Simply, they only have each other, and both of the young actors are able to project this feeling throughout, without having to resort to typical child actor methods of gaining sympathy. There are no temper tantrums, bellowed retorts or emotional unyielding and manipulation, it all feels genuine and special.

Which is why the film works so well, and is so memorable, because it's played perfectly by Alfredson (who has admitted he doesn't care for vampires). The film never loses sight of its purpose and message, refuses to fall into the same crowd pandering horror margins which the 2010 reimagining by Micahel Reeves did. In actual fact, the story is barely horror at all, even though the violence is disturbing and grotesque, a vital cog in displaying Eli's perpetual torture. It's really just a story of empowerment through new friendship, which happens to feature a horror-based creature.

The result may bore some, who cannot abide the slow, patient pace and character centred dynamic when they were led to believe this was some cult classic Scandanavian horror bloodbath extraordinaire, rather than a touching emotional piece about two misfits and how they find the strength to endure through their friendship. A dark fairy tale, in effect, which is mounted as a realistic character piece. It's this honest slant which gives Let the Right One In such power, and makes it a must watch.

8/10

We're All Christs - Film Review

After my previous foray into Polish cinema, in the form of Your Name is Justine, bore fruit, naturally it makes sense to go in again. And it's funny what diamonds in the rough you can find when you choose to embrace subtitles.

Wszyscy Jestesmy Chrystusami, or 'We're All Christs', is a bizzare and completely oddball life journey film from Marek Koterski, which looks at alcoholism, religuous symbolism and maintenance man esque guardian angels with never anything less than the mood after seventeen vodkas.

Using a chronologically non-linear format, not to mention numerous digressions into fourth wall breaking narrative trysts, the film tells the story of Adam (Andrzej Chyra as a younger man, Marek Kondrat as an older man) a hopelessly drunken tutor at a Warsaw university, specialising in culture and Christian iconography. An alcoholic, Adam struggles in later years to come to terms with his bizzare life that pretty much alienates him from everyone, in particular his son Sylwek (Michal Koterski). The film is framed by their ongoing conversation, in which they discuss how they remember Sylwek's dysfunctional childhood, utterly defiled by Adam's drinking.

Over the course of his life, Adam figuratively puts all his loved ones on the cross, making them his Jesus by ensuring they pay for his sins, while he makes excuses, misremembers key moments and generally refuses to recognise the reckoning coming, or the efforts made by afore-mentioned angel to steer him down the right path. Instead he ventures down to his local, the bar onboard an anchored barge, and swaps rational explanations with his fellow barflys, who are similarly wary of taking responsibility. Then, the transition, with Adam going from 33 to 55 in the blink of an eye, his son fully grown and struggling through college, acquiring some of his father's more addictive personality traits. Suddenly the whimsy is rather tragic.

Although Koterski clearly has a humourous sensibility, and make no mistake, there are some genuinely hilarious scenes and wonderfully witty dialogue exchanges in We're All Christs (highlights include Adam's botched suicide attempt and his experience of a gypsy rabbit dinner), there's clearly a very serious subject being broached here and it's handled superbly, that being the destructive nature of alcohol on the family, and it's long lasting effects. Rather than going for a cringingly familiar gritty route, Koterski's off-beat and surreal approach means the message is warm but also cutting, amiable but effective.

The aside to Jesus Christ, which provides the source of the film's name and almost all of it's own symbolism, is actually a means to an end and a pretty good metaphor for a socially less divine theme, the punishment of others by the punishing of self. Though never a bad person, Adam is killing his loved ones, so although he may see himself as carrying the cross, they are forced to alongside him. It's a neat analogy, and not as weighty on film as it sounds on paper. If such a thing as religuously charged satire didn't exist before, it does now.

And the two Adams, Chyra and Kondrat, both shine with lovely and soulful performances, both vulnerable, poignant yet comically astute and charming. Chyra in particular, as the younger incarnation, is highly entertaining, and the support don't let anyone down. It's quite an insular piece, with a character limit and many (including Adam's wife and mother) not even having names. The film is sharply and intelligently edited, resulting in plenty of Gilligan Cuts and quick beated cuts, fades, and scene interruptions. It gives the movie a distinctive tone and mood, never trying to make you feel sad, but perhaps sometimes managing it anyway, like a drunken man's funny story.

If unique, truly funny, bizzare and poignant shaggy dog story telling is your thing, the chances are you'll probably find a place in your heart for this wonderful little film, one that has with it's slapstick and ironic wit a pumping, feeling heart. Just don't praise it too loudly, or in too many numbers, of they'll probably remake the bloody thing.

9/10

For Your Consideration: Films You've Never Heard Of

One of my great passtimes is looking for golden nuggets of forgotten film excellence, basically doing some motion picture scouting for those wanting for new viewing material. When it comes to writing my reviews, and picking a film to run my writing hands over, I much prefer something little heard of, whether it be low budget British grime, indie flick or just plain old forgotten about or mis-sold cult property.

There's something very satisfying about finding a movie that you love, but that nobody else seems to be familiar with, and even more satisfying passing on the message. So with that in mind, here's a shortlist of films I recommend that I've dug up from the gaps between the pavement. Not literally, of course. That would be absurd.

I'm hoping to make this a recurring, though not regular, feature, so keep your eyes open for links and your ear to the ground.

London to Brighton

Short on running time and pound signs, Paul Andrew Williams' compact and modest thriller takes a dreary if unremorseful look at the black holes of British soceity, mainly prostitution and the exploitation of children, and picks out a fairly simple story of a girl and an older girl.

Street walker Kelly (Lorraine Stanley) and twelve year old Joanne (Georgie Groome) are in flight from an unseen, traumatic incident, with the former sprouting a monster of a shiner. Their escape is the train journey of the title. While the pair, who it turns out barely know each other, try to get some money together and gather their wits, they are being hunted down by some unscupulous shady guys. Namely, powerful gangster Stuart Allen (Jason Flemying lookalike Sam Spruell), and Kelly's pimp Derek (Eddie Marsan lookalike Johnny Harris). So while we get to see our heroic pair form a close bond, we also learn more about what has them as quarry, through flashback. It's all rather gritty.

It may not be life affirming, but this modest little piece is a decent story well presented with a matter of fact approach that's not original (the British film industry has been churning such chum out by the gallon of late), but is highly effective. Don't expect Guy Ritchie flash in the pan meets Thelma and Louise, this is a tale that is rooted deeply in reality, as drab and pessimistic as it may be. The twists and turns are left until the finale, and here it's a case of shocks rather than swings. A fairly ambitious effort, there is definitely a resonant effect left behind by the homeliness of the film's heart, the relationship between our heroines. It's a nice, sweet notion which has you hoping for a resolution which involves their survival.

Brick

Less of a sleeper and more of a cult classic is Rian Johnson's Brick, which is perhaps one of the most daringly imaginative and original 'gimmick' features of the 2000's, and one of the most enjoyable on a number of levels.

The gimmick is that it's a Dashiel Hammett style noir-mystery-crime-thriller, complete with dialogue and camera focus, which is set in a 21st century American high school, complete with students playing the parts of weary PI's, drug barons and muscle for hire. Brendan (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is the protagonist, a Phillip Marlowe archetype concealing strength and street smart behind a geeky, introvert exterior, who is trying to locate his ex-girlfriend Emily (Emilie De Ravin) after a disturbing phone call, and ends up becoming imbroiled in a narcotics ring run by 'older boy' The Pin (Lukas Haas). Double-crossing and winding, twisting turns commence, filled with an emotional heart.

Because of its vary nature, Brick is never going to appeal to the masses, who will either be confused by its format or baffled by its beautifully written script, full of ironic humour and superlative wordplay. But the real diamond of the flick is just how seamlessly it works, and it very quickly ceasing to entertain by virtue of its hubris, and instead wraps you in by its own virtues. Rian Johnson must have had one hell of a tough ride ever getting such a bizzare creation greenlit by anyone, but he redeems this with something which should not in a million years work, but somehow does. On top of this, we get the joy of seeing Gordon-Levitt graduate from Third Rock child stardom into proper, distinguished film acting. Anyone familiar with Nolanverse will no doubt agree this alone makes Brick worthwhile. The fact it's such a satisfying, stimulating and coveted film is what makes it so damn loved though.

The Wind That
Shakes The Barley

Love him or hate him, Ken Loach is a pillar of British filmmaking, and his filmography from Kes onwards is always a great indicator of its standard in quality. Never one to compromise on his unflinching style, and having absolutely no aspirations towards Hollywood despite its siren calls, his own breed of voyeur style directing will always be the industry, not just a part of it, and its a sign of his ambitions and intent that his most exotic film only takes him across the Irish sea.

Quite a mouthful of a title, The Wind That Shakes the Barley depicts the beginning of the struggles in Ireland, the freedom fighting cause picked up by the little men under the shackles of British occupation, and essentially forming the birth of the IRA and the eventual independence the country gained from the crown. We follow, in far from glamorous rabble rousing and heroic framing, two brothers who play a significant part and provide a rivetting, poignant tale. They are Damien (Cillian Murphy) and Teddy O'Sullivan (Padraic Delaney), the former a young doctor who is scheduled to practice in London, the latter already an established member of a Republican cell. When things kick off, tensions between the British army and the locals boiling over, it starts a slow and palpable march towards full blown battle.

And while we see the rise of the two, along with their fellow fighters (including Liam Cunningham and Laurence Barry), from armed aggressors into figureheads, the film never gets carried away with Braveheart style bravado and hero worship. They are never portrayed as anything other than ordinary folks swayed by principle into a spreading fire of action, and the film never loses touch with it's ultimate sentiment and point, keeping a balanced and neutral moral perspective. That's not to say it isn't moving, but it's the quasi-reality that provides this, not heart string pulling. Murphy and Delaney put on acting masterclasses, with Murphy in particular providing a wonderful arcing character study that is the backbone of the grand story, and an indicator of his extraordinary and underappreciated talents. Gorgeously photgraphed and mounted, showing the genuine beauty of Ireland as a facet for the tale, TWTStB can be described as sweeping but not epic, as stunning but not spectacular, and as emotionally involving but not provocative. The staples of any Ken Loach film, but tied into a far greater vision.

Buffalo Soldiers

Aussie Gregor Jordan's film, which he adapted from Robert O'Connor's book, is one of those films that suffered from it's mishandling, and again is an example of a cult film instead of a generally appreciated one. The reasons were political, namely the film's 'unpatriotic' sentiment and unfavourable attitude towards the US military, quite a clash considering it was initially to be released just after September 11th, 2001. Obscurity beckoned, despite a great cast and intriguing premise.

It's 1989, West Germany, and the Berlin Wall is about to fall. At an American garrison, Ray Elwood (Hollywood enigma Joaquin Phoenix) is bored, morally loose and eager to get his hands on some green. Having used his connections, being that he is adjutant to the base commander Colonel Berman (Ed Harris, playing wonderfully against type), he establishes a drug ring within the GIs, but his life of ill-gotten gains and luxury is put on the wire by the arrival of new enforcer Sergeant Lee (Scott Glenn), and in particular jeoprady is his scheme to sell a shipment of 'lost and found' weapons to local gangsters. But he still finds time to woo his new enemy's daughter, Robyn (Anna Paquin).

Immorality is the name of the game in the seductive Buffalo soldiers, as we have an anti-hero seemingly without a good cause, soldiers more intent on getting high than vigilant, and disciplinarian honchos cast as villains. But that's part of the film's charm, because above all else it's a richly black comedy that mines its humour from subtle character movement and Coen-esque farce. There are no sacred cows here, and clearly Jordan doesn't care a great deal who you root for, which is just as well. While Phoenix revels in a rare charismatic character, Harris has fun as an incompetant officer, and Glenn is menacing and borderline psychotic. It's great to see established names playing with their images, and that alone should sell the film. But there's also a noir-ish double crossing plot and general explosions. It's a highly entertaining and enjoyable flick, if one without moral fibre. Watch out for the stone tankers scene.

Dead Man's Shoes

Although This Is England proved to be a big hitter, and a highly popular effort, the rest of Shane Meadows' modest back catalogue more often than not gets little in the way of widespread interest. Which is a real travesty, because aside from the black mark of the messy and disorganised Once Upon a Time in the Midlands, it provides a selection of top notch, down and dirty excellence.

The pick is this, a sleepy town set rendition of Death Wish. Former squaddie Richard (Paddy Considine, who wrote the script) returns to his deadbeat hometown on a mission. He intends to get even with the local drugdealing thugs, led by Sonny (Gary Stretch), who terrorised his mentally challenged brother Anthony (Toby Kebbell) while he was away. But what starts out as a series of vicious pranks, intending to put the gang on edge, slowly begins to mutate into dark and grisly violence as the unhinged Richard shows his true colours, and in turn we learn the full implications of what happened to incite his blood vengeance.

Starting out as a low key drama, Dead Man's Shoes really earns its points with a disturbing escalation into horror thriller, giving the film's violence a powerful punch as it springs out of almost nowhere. We rarely see Richard when he is going about his mission, rather get to know him through quiet interludes where he reminsces with his brother about better, poignant times. Screen time is shared as we get a very intimate perspective of the bad guys as they fall apart, stricken by fear and very real confusion over the hunt they are now on the brunt of. The climax to this, which includes a brilliantly executed acid trip sequence, is shocking and brutal, but provides the impetus for the film's real conclusion, a far quieter and more foreboding sequence that hammers home the twisted creature that Richard has come. For this, we have Paddy Considine, ever superb but truly magnificent here, intimidating yet unsettling yet sympathetic and very human. Toby Kebbell, in his breakthrough role, and former showman boxer Gary Stretch also impress, as do the non-professionals portraying the gang members. The raw realism, provided by improvisation and subtle reactions, is what gives the film an edge over other, similar films. It's very unoriginal, but its slant really is, and in the long run is a truly memorable film.

Narc

Joe Carnahan's small, taut thriller makes its intent clear from the start, opening with a searing and disturbing drug addled chase which culminates in the killing of a junkie, and in the cross fire the accidental shooting of a pregnant woman. Whatever you might say about the chaotic Smokin Aces, or the blockbuster A-Team adaptation, these few minutes justify the director's status.

The rest of Narc follows the same brutal and unfliching approach, as suspended narcotics detective Nick Tellis (Jason Patric) reluctantly agrees to assist in the cold case investigation of an undercover cop's murder. The only person still determined to keep the case going, bloody mindedly so, is the dead man's partner, rogue ball of fury Henry Oak (Ray Liotta), and the pair form an uneasy partnership as they revisit the case and begin to make breakthroughs that a paint a dark and disturbing picture of what happened one rainy morning.

With claustraphobic camera angles, poorly lit rooms and Cliff Martinez's low rumbling score throughout, Narc builds an ominous atmosphere as it reaches for its rivetting conclusions and horrifying twists. The tempered sense of mutated justice and cruel priorities gives momentum to Oak's tragic quest, one that Tellis is wrapped up in to the point of smothering. The brutality of the world they inhabit is palpable in the walls, with crime scenes sickening places and the Detroit winter blanketing their efforts in a pall of symbolic half-light. Often wasted in inferior roles, Liotta is dynamic as Oak, a virtuosos performance that is his most memorable and worthy since Goodfellas. Patric holds his own, as do the cast of limited screen time supporting characters. While it perhaps goes for a gambit too far in it's sad and ambiguous finale, Narc burns onto your memory it's blistering energy like a dark star. How it is so often ignored is a real mystery.