Looper - Review

There can’t be much doubt that Rian Johnson simply isn’t used to this kind of fanfare. With his third film, after exceptional though oft-unseen debut Brick and warmly received The Brothers Bloom, one of Hollywood’s rising filmmakers blasts into the big time with the ambitious and meticulous Looper, blockbuster plot framing with the character based sensibilities of an indie flick.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt is Joe, a mob hit man with a very specific remit. This is 2047, and time travel will soon be invented, meaning that Joe’s job is to stand in a field outside Kansas City waiting for an individual to arrive from the future, where he can promptly gun them down and dispose of the body. Technological advancements thirty years down the line have made corpse hiding virtually impossible, enabling our protagonist’s morally skewed profession.

There is a snag, of course, as the job is on a set contract; after thirty years have passed, an older version of said looper will arrive at the execution point, to meet the same fate as the other bagged and tagged victims. The inevitable occurs, when Old Joe (Bruce Willis) materializes. But this time things are different; he isn’t hooded or restrained, and is able to outsmart and over power his younger counterpart before escaping. Due to his time paradox inducing mistake, young Joe is now at the mercy of violent mob boss Abe (Jeff Daniels) and his goons, and has to track down and kill Old Joe before they get to him. 

But Old Joe isn’t content to simply sit things out; he has arrived in the past with a mission. In the future, a malevolent crime figure dubbed ‘The Rainmaker’ is wiping out all of the Loopers, and has already seen to his wife. He intends to find the Rainmaker’s infant-self and kill him. Naturally, young Joe must stop him, leading him to a farm housing single parent Sara (Emily Blunt), whose son is possibly the target. What follows is a mind bending, second-guessing chase thriller with plenty of shock twists.

One skill that Johnson has always seemed to possess is his ability to take a core element which, in the hands of a lesser scribe, would be a gimmick, and then run with it and birth a story of great depth and compelling quality. This comes to the fore in Looper, in which the time traveling future self angle isn’t the real focus of the plot or the film’s heart, but merely part of the set up delivering a far more human, intelligent tale. It creates plenty of fascinating situations and game changers, but ultimately serves as a means to an end. The basic framework may be high concept, but the fully fleshed narrative isn’t.

This is helped by Johnson’s superb screenplay, a witty and darkly humorous tome that toys with many of the common elements seen in time traveling stories but never plays them straight, avoiding lengthy conversations and digressional mind blowing theatrics. Certain set pieces, in particular a subplot involving Paul Dano’s fellow gunman and his own future variant, milks the plot maker for all its worth but does so in the interest of pitch black horror and entertainment, not indispensable machinations. Johnson exploits the time travel aspect, he isn’t a slave to it, and the care he has taken with the story is clear to see, with key elements introduced quickly and naturally to serve as well established Chekhov’s Guns that save on accusations of contrivance later down the line.

Showing the film’s pleasingly dysfunctional character, there’s a strong Western vibe that plays throughout, from the showdown at the farm set up to the sneering gun slinger mobsters and use of anachronistic weapons like pea shooters and blunderbusses. Joe may be an assassin for a crime syndicate, but is treated more like a rider for the local outlaws. This infusion of themes and nuances allows for a character driven, cynically logical execution of a fundamentally nebulous concept, showing Johnson’s cool and confident grasp on the material.

Beyond the filmmaker’s superlative handling, we have a film which technically is top class, such as the brilliant visual eye and attention to detail and Nathan Johnson’s excellently tone dictating score, minimalist yet atmospheric. Key scenes go without music and, framed brilliantly, conjure up a level of tension and unpredictability which have you scrambling forward on your seat. Scenes are edited together sharply, including one excellent sequence showing Joe’s life in China after earning his silver during the ‘present’ timeline, his fading from Gordon-Levitt into Willis.

This is another of the film’s glowing achievements. While Gordon-Levitt’s prosthetic make up may take a while to get used to, his performance as a younger version of Brucey is absolutely phenomenal, a subtle and well schooled interpretation and mannered impression (not impersonation) of the screen icon’s many mannerisms and inflections. Right from the opening narration, Gordon-Levitt has Willis’ speech patterns down to a key, an uncanny and spookily effective echo. That’s not to say that his turn is one long mimic, as the rising star is able to imbue the part with heart and honest characterization which makes him a compelling protagonist. The young actor has already described Looper as the best thing he’s worked on, and by extension it’s probably his best display to date.

Though he could just as easily play himself and coast through the film, Bruce Willis turns things up a notch and shows the acting smarts he possess which rarely shine through in more brainless fodder, bringing embittered and cynical fatalism to Old Joe reminiscent of his career best form in Twelve Monkeys. Strong performances from Emily Blunt, suitably unglamorous and conflicted here, and impressive child prodigy Pierce Gagnon as the mother and son duo bring much needed depth and complexity to an arc which on auto pilot would have aimed for sentimental exploitation. Gagnon in particular is funny and startlingly intelligent as young Cid, the best child performance seen on screen since Hunter McCracken in last year’s TheTree of Life.

While lazy generalizations and misleading blurbs may push you towards Pusher with the expectation of no holds barred sci-fi thrills, you will undoubtedly come out of Rian Johnson’s latest and greatest marveling at the sight of a filmmaker breathing life and smarts into a tired trend and ultimately putting forward a distinctive and memorable viewing experience that transcends various genres and cinematic niches. Intelligent while incredible, haughty but heartfelt, full throttle yet thoughtful; Looper is blockbuster filmmaking at its stylish, nuanced and spectacular best.

9/10

 

Prometheus - Review

33 years and plenty of hushed talk after the series’ nucleus, Ridley Scott finally returns to the world of xenomorphs and interstellar terror with the hyped and hotly anticipated Prometheus, prequel to Alien and a film ditching claustrophobic thrills for near biblical levels of creationist exploration theory and an origin story for humanity.

In the year 2093, archaeologists Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace) and Charlie Holloway (Logan Marshall-Green) lead a multi-billion dollar expedition to the far side of the galaxy after discovering a series of pre-stone age cave paintings suggesting at the source of life on Earth. With the posthumous backing of philanthropist Peter Weyland (Guy Pearce in old man makeup), the spaceship Prometheus arrives at the star system’s only life sustaining moon, and the crew (including Idris Elba’s captain, Michael Fassbender’s resident android David, and Charlize Theron as company baton wielder Vickers) quickly set about an ancient temple-like underground structure.

Given what genre we’re dealing with, things will not go according to plan, and that’s not taking into account the plans we’re not aware of. Rather than a place of worship, the temple in fact seems to be a cesspool for a strange alien lifeblood, one that doesn’t take a liking to contact, as indicated by the dead humanoids they find on sight, apparent ‘engineers’, and by the series of fatal events which sees the ship’s crew dwindle and the intention of the life hosts revealed as malevolent. Cue race against time to stop apocalyptic end game and plenty of backstabbing double play.

While taking the dead ‘space jockey’ from Alien and playing it into a much denser back story of 2001 style ambition is certainly a great concept of re-imagination and exploration, there’s just the slightest sniff of desperation about Ridley Scott coming back to the cultural phenomenon he birthed. This certainly becomes apparent in light of his recent body of work, a series of underwhelming fare high on visual appeal but low on compelling depth. By stark contrast, Prometheus is a film certainly great to look at but trying to do far too much without necessary clarity in a relatively short time frame.

The result is a film which feels, especially by the end, incomplete. Given that Scott is the granddaddy of Director’s Cuts, this shouldn’t really come as a huge surprise, but the lack of buzz around some kind of huge extended version suggests we shouldn’t get our hopes up. The viral marketing campaign, focusing on Weyland’s launching of the star searching enterprise, is as good as teaser material when you consider that the loose ends left hanging don’t come from a lack of platform for the events of the film, but from within the events themselves.

Like his previous work Robin Hood, Prometheus clearly suffers from writing room rigmarole. A quick look back at the project’s history confirms this, with the infamous Alien Harvest concept cannibalized to incorporate a more cinematic and standard sci-fi thriller drafted by two independent writers, original scribe Jon Spaihts and then Lost show runner Damon Lindelof. A lack of balance in the script comes about from this, as too many elements clash and fail to gel, while scenes bounce into each other at high speed with a lack of natural pacing or flow.

That’s not to say that Prometheus isn’t enjoyable, it’s just tragically wasteful and something of a let down. Of the cast, the more interesting characterizations too often put on the backburner for less satisfying pseudo-science and attempts at archetypal scares. The most memorable character is Michael Fassbender’s synthetic David, a nuanced and mannered artificial person modeling himself on T.E Lawrence and thinly disguising his ulterior motives behind a veneer of composure and politeness. His scenes are often the best, while Charlize Theron is similarly impressive as the equally ambiguous Vickers, a cold and cynical presence who you just know is set to pose problems. Ironically, given his reputation for not putting stock in his actors, Scott is able to frame both characters stylishly and effectively.

Not so the rest, sadly. While she is undoubtedly a quality actress, Noomi Rapace is not given much to do other than action girl protagonist shtick and her character is badly underwritten. Her in-film lover Holloway, played by Tom Hardy look-a-like Logan Marshall-Green, is also inconsistent in his handling, while Guy Pearce’s casting just comes across as strange given the circumstances (he never appears in his normal guise, only dressed up as a 103 year old) and excellent actors such as Idris Elba and Sean Harris are wasted on bland plot-pushers.

The lack of clear reasoning within the story is ultimately what sabotages the good work Prometheus is trying to pull off however, with motives and revelations reached for no visible reason and undercooked plot elements stinking of contrivance. One egregious twist in the second act in particular lacks any logic, and has the viewer question why such clandestine shadow play is necessary when it has no bearing on the plot. For any hope of resolution to these multiple hanging questions, one must look to deleted scenes.

So in short, Prometheus is a film that aims high and fails to hit its haughty and ambitious marks, striving for something more than it can achieve. Elements within the film suggest potential for more, but frankly it has to settle for being entertaining and distracting rather than compelling or memorable on any level; Ridley Scott’s greatness-free rut carries on, a backwards step for inspiration proving just to be a backwards step for reasonable fare.

7/10

Headhunters - Review

When things are hot, they’re really hot it seems. Continuing the trend of high caliber Scandinavian exports (and naturally already billed for an American remake) comes Morten Tyldum’s Norwegian hit Headhunters, a viciously unpredictable thriller based on Jo Nesbo’s novel of the same name already garnering something of a cult following in Western media.

Diminutive Roger Brown (Aksel Hennie) is a slick hotshot leading a double life of desperation, a successful corporate head hunter spending well beyond his means to lavish riches on his glamorous wife Diana (Syvonne Macody Lund). To maintain his decadent lifestyle, Roger happens to steal highly valuable pieces of art in his down time, often from prospective recruits.

This reckless pursuit catches up with him when he encounters highly esteemed business honcho Clas Greve (Hollywood Dane Nikolaj Coster Waldau), a former Special Forces soldier turned CEO who just happens to possess a priceless painting believed lost during the Second World War. Seeing the chance of a life time, Roger cannot help himself. But he quickly regrets it as Greve strikes back and sends him into a head spinning fight for his life, a battle of wits and wills he’s not cut out to win.

Unashamedly putting stylized thrills before grounded substance, Headhunters gains most of its plus marks in the pure entertainment stakes, playing with the audience’s expectations and often dumping them into the same unknowing quagmire as the unsympathetic protagonist. There’s no denying that the often farcical plotting and suspense filled chase are a joy to watch unfold, often reminiscent of a shaggy dog story while also proving to be reasonably thought out and planned with a series of well hidden Chekhov’s Guns and idle foreshadowing.

 

The tone of the film does, however, mean that while we certainly enjoy the action we never particularly engage with it on anything other than a visceral level. Much like in David Fincher’s The Game, each plot twist or set piece, such as a car crash or sickly hiding place, gives fuel for fun but no for any kind of emotional journey that is being undertaken. While Roger is a haughty force brought down to Earth by events out of his remit, it’s hard to really care that he’s being brutally squeezed since he’s unapologetically unlikable from the first moment, despite Aksel Hennie’s fine work.

This cheerfully amoral stance comes back to bite the film’s own rear when things start to become more personal, meaning that an emotionally charged showdown is mostly wasted on viewers by this stage more interested in knowing what spanner will be thrown in the works. It also doesn’t help that the main motivation for the deadly game of cat and mouse is barely exposed, revealed by a single line of dialogue at the end of the second act and never fully elaborated on. Throw these elements together and you have an endgame lacking in intensity.

That’s not to say that it doesn’t work, of course, and the final few gambits to tie everything together certainly please as the rest of the piece did. Though he’s wasted in terms of characterization by a modest running time and lack of real development, Nikolaj Coster Waldau is a strong presence as Klas, an authentically intimidating villain, and Syvonne Macody Lund puts in a subtle turn as wife Diana, bringing a bit more reality to proceedings tied up in the slapdash.

But ultimately, Headhunters is a film that aims, above all else, to entertain and engross as a thriller, and certainly does so throughout its brisk length. It’s simply a shame that a little more substance couldn’t have been mixed with the seductive style.

7/10

Fish Tank - Film Review

While it seems that every week the British film industry trundles out its latest urban despair story, lately heading more into gangsta wannabe culture and hollow shells, occasionally a tale worth spinning makes an appearance amidst the uniform gloom. Case in point, Andrea Arnold’s Fish Tank, a suitably dysfunctional coming of age flick aimed at all the right marks.

Council estate wildcat Mia (Katie Jarvis) is a listless, aimless 15 year old with too much time, angst and anger on her hands, taken to blow ups with friends and pointless fisticuffs with strangers. Days toiled away on cheap cider and unfocussed motion are changed, however, when her inattentive mother (Kierston Wareing) gets a new boyfriend, the dangerously charming and charismatic Connor (Michael Fassbender). Womanly curiosity piqued by his Irish brogue and eccentricities, Mia forms a bond with Connor and through him begins to channel her energies into her only passion; dance. But, given the dysfunction around them, and her particularly destructive behavioral traits, it’s only a matter of time before things start going wrong…

It’s not hard to notice just how much of herself Arnold has poured into this slickly moving, no frills piece, which serves almost life a semi-autobiographical study in cynical ascent to adulthood and responsibility. Each scene passes with an almost daunting level of authenticity, dictated by the irrational actions of people with little to be rational about and stuck in a constant cycle bereft of incentive. When it comes time to escape, Mia ironically is able to make the trip because of the very same raw animal determination which had previously been her anchor.

That’s not to say that Fish Tank is an arduous slog through repetitive, depressive realism. While the protagonist’s life, aptly described by the title, is certainly not a fountain of joy, it still holds a degree of warmth that she has simply outgrown. And the arrival of Michael Fassbender’s Connor certainly injects more fun into proceedings, a childlike glee from little things like car journeys, nice music and fishing trips. When things take a more serious turn, there’s a degree of regret that the more innocent times have passed.

 

The very fact that such a sentence can be used to describe the narrative flow and tone of a film with the content on show is a glowing testament to Arnold, who manages to convey a huge degree of humanity and empathy with a minimum of fuss or visible effort. And, through her words, Katie Jarvis gives the film its spiky emotional core. An amateur and non-actor, Jarvis certainly isn’t mannered with her performance, but the genuine spark visible from first glance is clearly very real, and very beneficial. She is Mia, in essence, for better or worse, fragility barely hidden by crude demeanor and cruder tongue.

On the more finessed front, current Hollywood star Fassbender is equally outstanding as Connor, another honest and ambiguous turn from an actor reveling in excellent, often funny and witty material. While our opinions as viewers may vary on his motives or morality, they will not ask questions one could only put to a person of fiction. It’s this degree of realistic characterization, the kind that allows us to form judgments rooted in reality, which makes Fish Tank shine while other similar fare fail to ever really register.

Don’t expect Billy Elliot-style uplifting emergence, but by the same token there’s no sense that the slog is futile. Taking in real themes of escapism and borrowed optimism, Fish Tank’s core is one open to improvement and taken to leaps of faith in search of greater things, something that Mia learns the hard way. To make one’s life better, you have to take a step and take inspiration from even the darkest of personal events. Even somebody stooped in gloom should be able to appreciate that.

Moving along nicely and displaying a flair for non-flashy heart of character and passion that permeates deeply, Fish Tank is a classic both in its genre and on its own two feet, led by a memorably real leading turn and a filmmaker at the height of her powers, standing confidently on her own turf. A must see.

9/10

Biutiful - Film Review

A trademark of Mexican director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu’s body of work is a lingering feeling of melancholy, unresolved sadness, that while running through each story never becomes the predominant tone. In other words, on paper it may be depressing, but in practice it is something somehow more hopeful.

Case in point is his 2010 drama Biutiful, an expansive personal story following the final days of Uxbal (Javier Bardem), a Catalan single father to two children of small means, resorting to petty criminality and fixing with his brother, as well as occasional work as a psychic, in order to make ends meet. His already Spartan life is given an expiration date when he is diagnosed with untreatable prostate cancer, while the ugly side of his profession rears its head with a pair of tragedies lumbering more guilt on his shoulders. Overburdened and facing mortality, Uxbal must bring his affairs to a close and insure his family will live on beyond his passing.

Playing out more like a novel than a motion picture, Biutiful not only gives a warts and all character study for a desperate, conflicted man but also goes into literal depths with those around him. This includes rounded portrayals for his duplicitous brother Tito (Eduard Fernandez), the Chinese sweat shop owners (Taisheng Chen & Jin Luo) who Uxbal is in coercion with, an illegal immigrant couple (Cheikh Ndiyae & Diaryatou Daff) from Senegal doubling as family friends, and the protagonist’s estranged, bi-polar wife Marambra (Maricel Alvarez).

Subplots that in most films would serve as quick cut conflicts for the anti hero are here explored for what they are, unsavory slices of life aimed at the film’s focus of fractured, un-glossed humanity. While the flip side of this immersive depth and detail is a slow, contemplative pace, it also serves as a looking glass perspective on the kaleidoscope existence of one man’s life. Uxbal, while far from an admirable subject, is not judged by the film’s story but presented as is he is, objectively and intimately.

 Providing sympathy for a morally ambiguous character isn’t a cheap process by exploiting the presence of his two young children (played with aplomb by Hanaa Bouchaib & Guillermo Estrella), but rather with a refreshing honesty and, above all else, a wonderful central performance by Javier Bardem, who received his second Oscar nod for his meticulous and committed turn. Engaging and interesting, his Uxbal is totally authentic as a real man facing very real problems with all the strength and inner inspiration he can muster.

He’s backed by the uniformly superb cast, each underplayed with suitable restraint and subtlety, with the exception of the appropriately nuclear Maricel Alvarez, who’s own inner conflict is portrayed as damaging but not irredeemable. Redemption itself plays a part in the film’s subtext, but is kept there firmly by Inarritu’s close control of the narrative’s direction. This is not a heart string pulling weep fest aimed at cheap sentimentality, and delivers its emotional power through turn of event and not exploitation.

While this does mean a degree of dissonance in viewing, a barrier between audience and characters, it also respects said viewer’s intelligence and moral mileage sufficiently to let you present your own conclusions, whether they be as cold or empathetic. Similarly, certain story points are presented but not milked, such as Uxbal’s apparently legitimate ability to speak with the dead, a crux that could easily have been the film’s major focus. These are all strands, in essence, towards one modest but compelling tapestry.

It is a tapestry, in fact, which doesn’t simply dump you into the doom and gloom that would seem logical, but instead somewhat closer to a state the title misspells. Fully atoning for one’s misdeeds may not be possible, but shelving one’s pain for the happiness of those more important and averting the sins of the past really is a redemption worthy of hoping for. And, with Bardem in this kind of form, Biutiful is a tale worthy of telling, and well worthy of watching.

9/10