Half Pint Reviews: Ravenous & Face

A new feature today, one I'll probably start to utilise a little more often, is Half Pint reviews. The idea behind this is that I pick out a couple of films to give a quick going over and a rating, rather than delving into the detail I usually do.

To start us off, a pair of contrasting but obscure little gems from Antonia Bird, both featuring Robert Carlyle.


Ravenous


A bizzare little slice of horror and blacker than black comedy, Ravenous charts a somewhat disturbing and borderline supernatural tale of cannibalism in 19th Century frontier California. A box office lead balloon, following development hell that saw original director Milcho Manchevski fired, the film has slipped into obscurity despite it's uniqueness.

John Boyd (Guy Pearce), a veteran of the American-Mexican war, is promoted to Captain after single handedly capturing an enemy command post. However, it soon emerges that he is a coward who only managed to infiltrate the enemy lines by playing dead as his men were killed around him. Found out by his commanding officer, General Slauson (the late John Spencer), Boyd is dished out an unofficial punishment by being sent to the sleepy, dysfunctional Sierra Nevada outpost Fort Spencer.

Here, he is third in command of a skeleton eight man detachment, consisting of the neurotic Colonel Hart (Jeffrey Jones), simpleton Private Cleaves (David Arquette), stuttering Chaplain Toffler (Jeremy Davies), drunkard Major Knox (Stephen Spinella), borderline psychotic Private Reich (Neal McDonough) and Native American brother and sister George (Joseph Running Fox) and Martha (Sheila Tousey).

Their sitcom-esque boredom is struck off when a freezing, starving traveller, Calqhoun (Robert Carlyle) arrives at the camp. He recounts how his wagon convoy ran into foul weather and terrain, became stuck in a mountain cave, and how he has escaped the cannibalism that gripped them in order to survive. The garrison saddle up for a rescue mission, which quickly turns pear shaped, and upon his return to Fort Spencer, Boyd is shocked to find that nobody believes his story. Already despised and distrusted, things get worse with the arrival of the camp's new commanding officer, the seemingly impossible arrival of a very much known character. A battle of wills follows, as Boyd is stuck between any moral fortitude he possesses and the need for surival as the twists and shocks pile up.

Ravenous takes enormous risks as a film, some of which pay off handsomely, others which take some getting used to. First off, our protaganist Boyd is a coward. He shys away from conflict, painfully so at times, and his being found out on a number of occasions is difficult to watch. His fellows are not much better, with only Reich providing any real threat. Guy Pearce takes introverted, thoughtful steps towards the role, a quiet figure who, despite being the leading man, doesn't utter a full sentence for the first twenty minutes of the film.

The approach, however, is the big deciding point on whether you can enjoy the piece. Rather than take a serious approach to a fairly absurd story, Antonia Bird goes for a surreal, unsettling plan of attack in which pitch black moments are presented as bizzare knock about farce. Music choice sees a potentially tense chase being overlayed by slapstick, upbeat western campfire tunes. The characters, with a couple of exceptions, string together oddball dialogue, whether by failing to put any point into the words or by contradicting themselves constantly.

By refusing to take itself seriously, Ravenous in a roundabout way becomes more unsettling than it would had it gone for standard, campy horror in the mountains, defusing the impossibility of the plot and the stretches it takes for the benefit of our entertainment. Pearce is typically reliable, a surprisingly subtle perfomance, and Robert Carlyle displays chameleon abilities to channel characters within his character, and suitably menacing and superior when needs be. Jeffrey Jones is a lot of fun in his role too.

So, a hugely unpredictable horror thriller/dark comedy hybrid with plenty of laughs and thrills, as one would hope for, but one that leaves you wondering what would have resulted had the film gone down the conventional route.

7/10




Face


A perhaps unfairly overlooked, virtually unheard of London gangster thriller, Face takes a low key, almost relaxed approach towards the ramifications of a job gone wrong and the treachery that follows.

Ray (Robert Carlyle, bearing a flawlessly toned down Cockney accent) is a firmly established professional criminal, a former socialist protestor turned armed robber.

Along with his close friend Dave (Ray Winstone), simple sidekick Stevie (Steven Waddington), fixer Julian (Phillip Davis) and newboy Jason (Damon Albarn), he orchestrates a robbery of a security depot intended to earn the gang £2 million to split between them.

However, despite carefully planned routine and precision, they in fact only scalp £300k, resulting in some tension within the crew. Ray attempts to pass this off, settling on his cut and happy to share the night with girlfriend Connie (Lena Headey). But when the next morning comes, each of the men have had their money stolen, with trusted friends killed in the process. Realising his precarious predicament, with nobody to trust and the police taking a keen interest, Ray leads the group's efforts to find the loot before he walks into the sunset.

Rather than going for sensationalised gangster lifestyles, or Guy Ritchie style high thrills and beat thumping style, Antonia Bird instead takes a straight forward approach to the story, with Ken Loach style honest camera angles and techniques, lettling a shadowed but fairly simple plot provide the entertainment and interest rather than jazzing it up. Even gunfights and action sequences, not to mention the violence, occur almost naturally, making them more piercing without build up.

This, in turn, gives a great opportunity for a character study of Ray to occur, highlighting his contradictory views and confused lifestyle, a million miles away from the old life that still presents itself to him on a daily basis. It's a subtle, honest perfomance by Carlyle, almost the hero of the story, bringing a realistic degree of pathos and complexity to his character and expressing more through mannerisms than lines of dialogue.

Ray Winstone plays against type as a more pent up, straight collared type, no sign of the wolfy voice and demeanour. He isn't even the hardest man of the group, let alone the East End. The rest of the cast play their roles well, bringing various, neccesary energies to the story, while a laid back choice of music brings an odd relaxed aptmosphere to a fairly frantic and stressful story.

A very watchable crime flick without pretensions or the need to steal Scorscese style tub thumping or British gangster snarls, Face is a film that perhaps would benefit from a little more energy, a little less detachment.

7/10

Red Riding (1974): Film Review

The opener of the ambitious and fairly epic trilogy of adaptations based on David Pearce's labyrinth, apocryphal novels, this perhaps does not constitute as a film for review since it was aired on Channel 4. But given it's cinematic structure, production values and approach, I deem it worthy of scrutiny based on it's own merits. So, here we go.

In 1974 Yorkshire, a young local girl has gone missing, sparking the interest of the downbeat and insular community. Local boy Eddie Dunford (Andrew Garfield) returns home and walks into a job at the town paper after a stretch studying journalism in London, and quickly develops an interest in the case, despite the reservations of his editor Bill Hadley (John Henshaw) and close friend Barry (Anthony Flanagan).

His instincts prove correct as he notices a recurring theme of disappearing local youngsters, all of whom have seemingly vanished without a trace. Despite his findings, he is treated with general contempt by the local police, represented by the intimidating and coarse Bill Molloy (Warren Clarke), and the silent Maurice Jobson (David Morrissey), who have no qualms with showing their dissatisfaction at his 'interference'.

The effort seems to have been in vain anyway, as the missing girl is found dead on a building site owned by a local industrialist, swan's wings stitched into her back after being severely abused and murdered. Put onto a different story, Eddie cannot resist the lure of the mystery, leading him into a neo-noir world of shadowy secrets. Along the way, he meets and falls for one of the bereaved parents, Paula (Rebecca Hall), and finds an illegal plot to clear land by the police and orchestrated by the powerful John Dawson (Sean Bean), a scheme intertwined with the murders.

Eddie is repeatedly punished (he is turned black and blue by the black and blue numerous times) for his trespassing, but the personal significance really reaches a head with the suspicious death of a friend, and the overpowering silence of those in the know. Despite everything, Eddie's crusade gathers pace and cost as he seeks to expose and bring down Dawson and the local mafia type organisation.

Red Riding 1974 is best summed up, in terms of plot, aptmosphere and mood by one line spoken by a minor character in the final act, which becomes a recurring phrase throughout the trilogy: "This is the North, where we do what we want".
Director Julian Jarrold paints a bleak, overwhelmingly grey picture of 70's small town and poverty stricken Yorkshire, a blunt and near feral world where the smart talking Eddie is shot down for his extrovert approach, surrounded as he is by no-nonsense, harsh men brought up at the coal face and dedicated to a working man mentality bereft of any change. The cinematography evokes memories of Seven's dauntingly colourless landscapes, a constant smoky haze coating council houses, gypsy settlements and pub basements. This in turn lends itself to a dour, hopeless mood of cruelty and despair, where an idealist like Eddie and his conspiracy-obssessed friend Barry are not permitted to grow. The people of this world are not allowed to think outside of the box they live in.

Andrew Garfield, barely before his career exploded into life with The Social Network, leads a dynamite cast with a genuine charm and confidence, a very likely fish out of water without the dark thinking to ever consider himself out of his depth. Eddie's struggles start out through a desire for truth and a loathing of the fat cats, an idealism which is blunted when the personal toll of mission makes things a matter of vengeance and redemption, ironically bringing him down to the level of his enemies.

He is assisted ably, with the film's general second billing and villain status being thrust upon the usually heroic Sean Bean. He oozes charisma and experience as the darkly dissembling Dawson, a local likely lad who's hit the big time, his smart suits and fancy cars (not to mention a bizzare manor house) at odds with the rough local accent and his small town views and attitudes. Likeable at turns, he is also terrifying at others, a clear indicator that Eddie is not fighting his battle on level terms.

Rebecca Hall, still flitting between big star mainstream and character actress, brings complexity and depth to the emotionally damaged and morally tortured Paula in a superb, subtle performance that is probably the pick of the bunch. Hugely attractive yet unquestionably untrustworthy and potentially dangerous, she provides the conundrum to intoxicate Eddie for better or for worse, and provides all the motivation the hero needs to make things personal. In one particularly stand out scene, an argument between her and Eddie sees Paula once again tap into the open source of cynicism in their life, effectively shooting down Eddie's moralistic crusade, and immediately crumbles when she sees the heartbreak in his eyes. It's a deeply human, conflicted moment.

There is further good work among the others, with Anthony Flanagan unpredictable and paranoid as Barry, Hemsworth typically laconic and pragmatic as the editor, and David Morrissey sinister and myserious in a near wordless role. Warren Clarke enjoys a memorable scene with Eddie, where his foul mouthed bile provides both gallows humour and genuine terror. There is further sterling support in small roles from Peter Mullan, Mary Joe Randle, Eddie Marsan, Robert Sheehan (as the film's most bizzare character), Gerard Kearns and Cathryn Bradshaw as Dawson's near insane wife, a woman who holds many pieces in the complex jigsaw.

With a towering script which perfectly balances plot and dialogue, action and pondering, and a well judged backing soundtrack, 1974 rises out of it's status as a TV Movie and looks and sounds for all the world like a conventional cinema crime thriller, a neo-noir with an unorthodox setting. The background of the misery suffered by the 1970's working class, and the reign of terror caused by the Yorkshire ripper, provide perfect placement which gives the piece a vital sense of authenticity. In that regard, costume and make up work is also spot on, leaving us in no doubt of the era. In many ways Red Riding isn't so much about missing children and corruption as it is about inclosed community and cultural divides, of how the North and Yorkshire sit almost on their own plain of existence.

The only criticism is that one of the key points of the film, a vital plot point, is finally addressed almost off hand in the closing stages.

A dark, grimy and cynical story both in terms of tale and look, 1974 draws you in with it's complex mystery and keeps that attention at a vice like grip with emotional connection and intensity, delivering a desperately bitter sweet conclusion that both draws to a close a wonderful story and also leaves you salivating at the prospect of two more to come. A flagship effort.

"This is the North, where we do what we want"

9/10

Heartless: Film Review

In line with my reviews of little noted, but certainly worthy releases from recent years, Heartless is yet another genre splitting gem that had eluded me frustratingly.

Phillip Ridley's first film for 14 years, the all ranging artist writes and directs this horror/psychological thriller/drama amalgamation that's heavy on symbolism and metaphor as well as genuine shocks, thrills and emotional poignancy.

Jamie (rising star Jim Sturgess) is a young photographer, left cripplingly shy by a series of oversized 'port wine stain' birthmarks, the most prominent of them a heart shaped mark over his left eye. Hidden behind his hood and left to live a lonely existence in London with his religuous mother (Ruth Sheen), Jamie wanders the city streets at night, set in a belief that he will never be granted a happy ending, or the beautiful family he craves.

Things change, however, when he begins seeing demons ransacking back alleys and abandoned buildings, drawn to molotov cocktails and screeching unintelligible cries, seemingly unnoticed by anyone else. Disturbed by these sightings, Jim is left with little outlet to express his concerns, even when the demons themselves begin attacking citizens in seemingly random, horrific killings, which are attributed to a local gang leader. Despite making friends with new neighbour AJ (Noel Clarke), an amiable and openly friendly but ambiguous figure, and having the complete trust of his brother and fellow snapper Ray (Justin Sallinger), Jamie becomes more insular and tortured.

The turning point is reached when a personal tragedy at the hands of the monsters leaves Jamie emotionally destroyed and ultimately vengeful. After escaping the attack relatively unscathed, he buys a gun from local shopkeeper Vinnie (Fraser Ayres), and seeks mortal retribution, overcoming suicidal urges and haunted by the memory of his deceased, loving father George (Timothy Spall). Any plans he has are turned upside down when he is approached by the source of the chaotic goings on, 'Papa B' (Joseph Mawle), a Satanic figure living inside a burnt out tenement flat. He is offered a faustian bargain: Papa B will remove the birthmarks that have ruined Jamie's life, and in exchange Jamie will be required to perform a small service on occasion (in this case, blasphemous vandalism). The offer is accepted, and Jamie is transformed by self immolation.

With a new lease of life, Jamie is able to find a new confidence in himself, and even romance and fall in love with a beautiful model, Tia (Clemence Poesy). His happiness is brought to an end, however, by the arrival of Papa B's consigliere, Weapons Man (Eddie Marsan), where it becomes clear that Jamie has naively stumbled into a trap, and now owes his dark master a human heart.

In a dream like haze, Jamie is torn from one side to the other as he ponders his long awaited happiness and contentment against the sin of murder and the loss of his soul. As the darkness and violence escalates, he is brought further towards the truth and final realisations which draw a question mark over everything that has occured.

The most distinctive thing about Heartless is it's setting and the aptmosphere it builds, creating well defined parables and turning London into a miserable, hopeless hell threatening to eat up Jamie and his loved ones. Mainly seen at night, and lit in unearthly fashion by street lights and free flames, there is a double faced edge which becomes oppresive and perfectly representative of the young hero's environment.

The hints towards the dark and sinister underbelly are made clear from the start. The film opens with the random shout of "You're gonna fucking die!", a line of some significance by the film's stunning and brain freezing climax. Characters speak of the hell in which they live, with a hard ingrained weariness at the freak violence around them, youth crime boiling over the edge of the pan. This is backed by a morose, tingling soundtrack from the deeply underrated David Julyan (Memento, The Prestige), and some wonderful cinematography.

Jim Sturgess, accelerated towards the big time by his superb performance in Peter Weir's The Way Back, delivers a perfect turn as the tortured hero, tapping into dark areas which trigger both empathy and sympathy before his nearly understandable bloodlust is roused and perfectly represented. He is ably supported by the supporting cast, Noel Clarke and Timothy Spall particularly impressive in small but significant roles. The real grabber of attention and praise, though, is veteran character actor Eddie Marsan's single scene, a dynamic display as the terrifying yet hilarious Weapon's Man, an inspired series of monologues and verbal wordplay.

The story twists and turns, and the rivetting and upsetting conclusion leaves much ambiguity over horrendous events, and takes on an almost Buddhist end to a riddle we were barely aware of. In that vain, there are many visual and spoken metaphors to be decoded with some ease, a form of self justification in explaining away seemingly inexplicable acts of violence with actions of the realm of Hell, all part of a plan to create a balance when harmony threatens. The final scene may bring a tear to your eye, without you even being sure why.

Overall, Heartless is an emotionally draining, intellectually challenging film heavy with subtext that ultimately revolves around suffering within rather than without, and is backed by a superb set up and great performances sure to stay with you for some time. The real mystery for me, once more, is how such a well made and assembled piece was allowed to slip under the radar.

8/10

The Escapist: Film Review

Seeing as how Rupert Wyatt's new take on The Planet of the Apes saga is imminent, it seems a good time to look back and reflect on his debut from 2008, his only other film, and a cracking and challenging little piece without it's deserved appreciation.

Lifer Frank Perry's (Brian Cox) hopeless existence inside a maximum security and slightly surreal prison block is turned upside down when he learns his young daughter, who he hasn't seen since she was a little girl, is on her death bed as a result of drugs. Desperate to see her one last time and make things right, he concocts a mad scheme to escape the four walls that dominate his life, roping in a group of his fellow cons. But as the day quickly approaches, a battle of intrigue with fellow inmates puts the whole plan at risk.

As the story pans out, we are treated to a split narrative, with scenes of the actual escape in baffling circumstances mixed with the build up and ulitmate explanations.

After receiving the key letter, Frank immediately starts scouting his surroundings, finding weak spots which could be exploited. Convinced that hope isn't misplaced, he approaches long term fixer and half friend Brodie (Liam Cunningham) with his ideas. Hugely reluctant to take the risk, knowing just how badly things can go wrong, Brodie is finally swayed by Frank's passion and determination to make things work. To aid in the impossible task, the pair draft in thief and strongman Lenny Drake (Joseph Fiennes), who's own hopes of approaching parole have been destroyed by Frank's former cellmate.

However, their best laid plans are threatened by the intervention of the two villians of the wing. Sadistic drug addict Tony (Steven Mackintosh) gets wind of the escape, blackmailing Frank into providing a large cache of his tipple in exchange for his silence. Tony's status and own safety are secured by his brother, the wing's psychotic and widely feared capo Rizza (Damian Lewis). So then there was four, as Rizza's own chemical wizz Batista (singer Seu Jorge) is brought in. To add to the mix, Frank's new cellmate, the young and naive Lacey (Dominic Cooper) becomes entangled in the operation and finds himself both the object of Tony's sociopathic tendencies and the beneficiary of Frank's unexpected protection. All the while, the dangerous descent and then ascent out of the nightmare prison is seen in almost fantasy tinted scenes. The film veers from twist to shock that leaves you wondering how things could possibly end up as they do. A stunning reveal at the end, one Christopher Nolan would be proud of, both provides the film a sudden poignancy and gives the title a completely different meaning.

Using a group of underappreciated but hugely talented character actors, mixed with unconventional casting choices, Wyatt (who co-wrote the script) creates an aptmosphere of stoic silence among the protaganist, building instead on unspoken and subtle reactions to give as a gauge of the characters, with the exception of two.

The first thing to reflect on are the skills of debutant Wyatt, who shows himself to be a ferocious and highly confident director who clearly has brought a lot of influences into his pacing and storytelling. The initially jarring split narrative gives the film a balance and of course, as things turn out, is hugely vital in plotting a tale that would otherwise have been a rather disposable escape yarn. He creates a wonderfully oppressive and creepy aptmosphere in the unnamed prison block, marrying old fashioned settings and practices with modern appliances and background in Gilliam esque mood setting.

This works in tandem with an understated script, allowing the actors to feed off character traits and more realistic turns, which massively aids in preventing sentamentalism creeping in. It brings the best out of a group of superb actors. Brian Cox, so often wasted in cheap villain roles, is in career defining form as the quiet, hard bitten Frank, conveying emotional pain and desperation with a single facial expression. His journey is reflected not by exposition and overlong verbal ruminations and internal dialogue, but by his slumped shoulders and unapologetic acceptance of his dire surroundings.

He's backed by an ensemble cast, with the ever reliable Liam Cunningham injecting amiability and solidity into his role as the blank canvas Brodie, while Joseph Fiennes plays against type as the aggressive and bitter, but highly resourceful Drake, a million miles away from his leading heart throb roles of the nineties. Seu Jorge acquits himself well as a drug dealer, and Dominic Cooper (pre-big break) shows a nicely subtle side as a young man with good intentions thrust out of his depth.

The two standouts are the brothers, two surprise casting choices in Steven Mackintosh and Damian Lewis. As the creepy, sinister and loathsome Tony, Mackintosh nails the jittery personality and provides a real fearful nature around the druggie, an irrationality and unpredictability which provides a very genuine risk to our heroes' hopes and dreams.

And as Rizza, Lewis's presence dominates the story, although his screentime is limited. He transforms himself from amiability to become a complex and fascinating but terrifying character who could easily carry a whole film. Ruthless and unnerving, Lewis's cockney accent and clipped speech pattern, coupled with dead eyed stares and an odd campness, teases questions and answers that go unprovided. Seemingly a plot device on legs with a feminine stut, he soon because the antithesis of Frank, a man reliant on the bars and cells for his power. He is easily one of the best villains I've seen on screen for some time.

On reflection, it is incredible to think that this film struggled to find a distributor, hence why it went so unnoticed, and also that Wyatt was able to weave such a tapestry and hugely impressive tale on such a tight budget and time constraints. A small independent film with all the appearances of a barn storming British film industry flagship.

Like so many films of it's type, The Escapist could well have been improved with an extra half an hour of screen time, as morish as it and also because of the tantalising prospect of developing the characters further and adding more variables. As it stands though, The Escapist is a surprisingly thought provoking piece that goes beyond the run of the mill it seems to be, and deserves both a watch and a place in your DVD collection.

8/10