Snow White & Russian Red - Film Review

Based on the bestselling novel White and Red by Dorota Maslowska, Xawerego Zulawski's fearless outing here is an often confusing, occasionally funny and always surreal ball of furious, ironic energy wrapped in social commentary.

Shaven headed Silny (Borys Szyc) is a deadbeat slacker, unemployed and living out of his mother's empty house and always on the chase for girls and lines of speed with which to embelish his pseudo-political rants. After his equally messed up girlfriend Magda (Roma Gasiorowska) breaks up with him, Silny openly broods and mopes about his situation, aimlessly wandering into a bizzare, reality breaking series of events, all the while with the backdrop of a strange anti-Russian festival and buildings painted with the colours of the Polish flag.

Like Maslowska's novel, Snow White and Russian Red takes some pretty unorthodox steps to reach it's goal, but unlike the source material that point is almost missed completely. Buried deep in the film's near dreamlike state of over the top set pieces and exaggerated actions is a rueful contemplation on Polish culture post-Warsaw Pact, with a generation of younger souls left fretting and wandering without a cause to fight, choosing to indulge their addictive personalities and talk to death about the wrongs of the past. However, in a shorter time frame and sharing space with more conventional story arcs, it is brought up, forgotten, brought back, ignored and then tossed out in the end as a form of metaphor. One of the glaring problems with Zulawski's film, particularly notable for those unfamiliar with the book, is that it seems to lack a point.

Whether this dooms the film to a post mortem assessment, or merely changes the way it can be enjoyed, is entirely up the viewer. Its politics aside, Snow White and Russian Red is still a fairly entertaining and oddball film, and can be seen as a statement on a soulless enivornment as perceived by those without a commitment or a fight to take on. However, this interpretation does fail to address certain amounts of symbolism and sledgehammer subtlety present in the foreground.

Themes aside, Zulawski has a visual flair that really comes to the fore in the film, delivering some memorable sequences and never shooting a shot that isn't interesting in its own right. Cartoony silliness, such as characters being thrown through the air in slapstick or blatantly impossible physical stunts like a goth girl vomiting rocks, are liberally scattered across the film, along with a crazed, drug fuelled filming style that goes some way to being method in approach.

And the story is bizzare but not uncontrolled, as we constantly dodge around continuity and linear time by rocking backwards and forwards, with some scenes scratched by admission of being false moments later. The author Maslowska appears, playing herself as a young woman writing the story that the disenchanted and baffled Silny is trapped in, manipulating events and even confronting him with the fact in one mind bending, ambiguous scene. That Silny reacts by verbally attacking her is perfectly in keeping with the tone.

Carrying the film on his not inconsequential shoulders, Borys Szyc never fails to deliver appropriate energy, but doesn't quite match up to the image of Silny (or Nails, as in English) readers will have conjured up, perhaps too old and too clown-like, though he does succeed in making Silny almost likeable, something the original, written character never achieved. He isn't helped by the writing, however, with Zulawski only making him a political ranter when it's convenient. Roma Gasiorowska shines, while Maria Strzelecka (as Angela) and Sonia Bohosiewicz (as Natasza) underact and overact respictively, in parts that are little more than extended cameos. Maslowska, fourth wall breaking, clearly isn't an actress.

While Snow White & Russian Red strays from the path of it's origins and loses much of it's subtext and indictment as a result, it does perhaps take White & Red and make it a more enjoyable, more fun slice of weird and endearing entertainment, a reality bending exercise in unconventional storytelling, bringing some interest to a plot that, at its bones, is hardly worth telling. Flawed for sure, and oft incoherent, it none the less is daft enough to work, stupid enough to be smart in a contradictory manner. When all is said and done, a watchable, chaotic film.


6/10

The Woman Who Dreamed of a Man - Film Review

Kvinden Der Dromte Om En Mand, aka The Woman Who Dreamed of a Man, is the salacious and risque latest offering from Danish director Per Fly, social drama meets erotic adventure in a cross-European journey of obssession and fantasy.

The story follows Karen (Sonja Richter), a Danish fashion photographer working in Paris, who in a hotel restaraunt happens upon a man who she recognises from a recurring dream. After being caught following him, she finds that he is Maciek (Marcin Dorocinski), a teacher at a local Polish school. Though both are married (she to Michael Nyqvist's Johan) with children, they embark on a sex based affair while sharing the same living space, a part time romance.

Things fall apart when Karen becomes more and more infatuated with Maciek, to the point she begins hurting her work and risking her family, and as she presses further and futher into his life, he finds himself having to fight back against her intrusions, as their lives are threatened by imminent collapse.

Though Fly is better known for more kitchen sink based realism of the Mike Leigh vareity, The Woman Who Dreamed of a Man leans far more towards proto-fantasist self destructiveness, with a long winded and generally unlikely story lacking in content that sets its course and symbolic venture and manages to fall half way, winding up as a winding and quiet drama without the visuals to make it anything more than ponderous. This, perhaps, is my way of saying that it's very dull in a manner a little more kind. Though only an hour and a half in length, it feels much longer for the wrong reasons.

For much of the film, it is unclear what exactly Fly is going for. Though the initial dalliance between Karen and Maciek would appear to be the "adventure to escape mundane reality" scenario, it never really convinces as such. Though Richter and Dorocinski are capable actors, they are given little of substance to work with, and a visible lack of chemistry makes their escapades feel flat and pointless. It is unclear in particular what Karen's motivations are, since for all intensive appearances her homelife is settled and comfortable, with Johan a patient and amiable figure highly supportive of his wife's career while caring alone for their young daughter. If there is supposed to be some unhappiness on Karen's side, it is never shown or discussed, not even hinted towards. In fact, he lack of care towards her child is one various reasons why she can never hope to gain any sympathy.

Similarly, Maciek is far from likeable, though at the same time certainly not the film's villain. In fact, at times he seems to be burdened by the relationship he has undertaken, and later when Karen's actions become more unhinged he is left to pensively walk through a mine field to keep things on the down low. The fact he shows no emotion until the final stages contributes to the image that he is a drip.

There is barely anything else at all to add to this, other than the bewildering 'dream' aspect which explains the couple meeting and takes its place in the film's title. No explanation is ever given for the significance of this other than conveniance, and certaintly the awkward attempt to bookend the conclusion with a role reversal is frankly lazy and in keeping with the idea that it was only ever an excuse in the first place.

It says much for a film as unfocussed and unclear as this one that, in the climax, the leading lady is left to wander aimlessly and hopelessly in a foreign land, alone and vulnerable, all while delivering absolutely no impact as far as the audience is concerned. If we are supposed to feel for Karen at this point, it is a failing because she never garners such empathy or understanding. Instead, we are left to marvel at her irrationality and naiveity, traits which don't come across as tragic so much as stupid and irritating.

While The Woman Who Dreamed of a Man may have been an attempt at psychologically refined character study by way of sexual games and Last Tango in Paris style pseudo-romance, it falls desperately flat and instead becomes a meaningless story about two unlikeable people with no connection who have an affair for no clear reason then go feral because the script says so. Not so much loathsome cinema as distinctly forgetable and disposable.

4/10

Tyrannosaur - Film Review

Having cautiously tested the waters of directing with his impressive short film Dog Altogether, actor turned auteur Paddy Considine here adapts the brief but memorable slice into an even more distinctive, rivetting and haunting full film.

Bringing back Peter Mullan and Olivia Colman to reprise their roles, Considine expands on the story of self destructive rage and loneliness, tapping into a very dark, very despairing but ultimately authentic glimpse at those lost in the mire of their lives.

Mullan is Joseph, an angry and alcoholic widower who lives alone and picks up benefit cheques, his only companionship represented by his loyal dog Bluey and his friends, the bed ridden, dying James (Robin Butler), and the dispirate, manky Irishman Tommy (Ned Dennehy). After one of his borderline psychotic episodes, Joseph kicks Bluey to death, an uncontrolled attack that depresses him further. After a further moment of madness, where he sets upon a group of young men in a pub, he runs off and hides in a clothes shop owned and run by a kind and patient, God fearing woman named Hannah (Colman), who houses him and even prays for him.

With his existence otherwise aimless, Joseph begins visiting Hannah for company, despite his reservations about her good nature. However, while he begins to see her as respresenting a form of good in the world, her life is just as miserable. Her husband James (Eddie Marsan) abuses her, culminating in beatings and worse, feeding off and exploiting her patience and inability to defend herself, and soon it is she who is seeking comfort from Joseph, far from a stable pillar to lean upon, as she tries to find escape and he tries to control and quell the anger that is destroying him, just when he seemingly needs it the most.

Given that Tyrannosaur represents Considine's first foray into directing (though he is no stranger to scipting, having written Dead Man's Shoes), it makes sense to start by taking a look at his chops behind the camera. And, by God, he has some and a half. A masterful actor, Considine displays just how much he was paying attention during filming by delivering one of the most impressive and confident debut efforts in recent memory. Aside from the poignant, powerful and convincing screenplay, what Considine brings to Tyrannosaur is an astute focus on small details, significant and almost subconscious touches, as well as excellent pacing and some superb filmmaking choices. Such care is put into every scene, of establishing facts before revelation through subtle reaction shots, use of sound and framing of shots.

And of course, his work brings out the best in some truly gifted actors, with the two leads dominating proceedings. Already an undoubtedly brilliant actor, particularly in roles suited towards aggression and unpredictability, Peter Mullan is sizzling on screen here, a menacing ball of fury who evokes fear in the audience, but also summons a puzzling, paradoxical sympathy from the same viewer. As convincing and downright terrifying each psychological break is, more troubling and emotive is the comedown afterwards, the sight of his face slowly dropping as he realises what he has just done. Any kind of positive energy stems from the actor, and each and every drop of regret and heartbreak from his aggression is a construct of the finesses, careful performance.

While Mullan is wonderful, the real revelation of the film is Olivia Colman, an actress previously known primarily for comedic roles. As the good natured but emotionally crumbling Hannah, she is simply unforgetable, provoking protective instincts in any right minded soul who watches her suffering, and longs for her victory, to get away from the horror of her home and the soul destroying work by her worse half. One pivotal scene in particular, the climax of her story, is earth shattering in it's primal, desperate and horrifically tempered honesty.

While the story may sound like a perfect remedy for undue optimism, there is an inexplicable sense of hope within it, with the focus more on how we can find a degree of happiness in the most unlikely of places, and how things can work out for the better in a manner far from obvious at first glance. A subplot about the film, involving Joseph's semi-friendship with neighbourhood kid Samuel (Sam Bottomley) and the reign of terror of Sam's mother's boyfriend's vicious attack dog has a full arc, with a disturbing and stark conclusion that, for all it's questionable ethics, has a satisfaction about it. Though at times we yearn to see Joseph turn the full force of his rage against certain people, at the same time we hope he doesn't because of the self-destructive force such action would have on him. All his instincts are stemmed and tempered by his friendship with Hannah, and we want to see him become a better person through her.

Like most efforts of this kind, there is a hint of semi-autobiography about Tyrannosaur, and the soulfulness of Considine's work is clear to see. But for all the clear endeavour and heart he pours into every frame of film, there is a technical mastery and genius understanding of the process that is sure to put him in very good stead for the future. Since he has stated his desire to go the long haul behind the camera, and begin packing in the acting altogether, this opinion will be sternly tested and, in my opinion, validated. If his first effort is anything to go by, we have potential beyond measure on our hands.

Brought to the screen in gritty but beautiful manner, realistic yet optimistic at the same time, Tyrannosaur is a world class effort and a triumph for a first time director, an established screen master and a novice dramatic actress who has similarly found a new, hugely impressive talent. For all the murky depression and despair, it is a moving and inspiring film, one that will linger on the mind for a long time, and not unwelcome at that.

However, be warned, there are no dinosaurs to be seen.


9/10

The Skin I Live In - Film Review

Bold, daring, brave and maverick, there's very little that reknowned Director Pedro Almodovar is afraid to touch, and as things go there's very little his fingers brush that doesn't turn to gold. Case in point, The Skin I Live In, very loosely based on Thierry Jonquet's novelella 'Tarantula'.

Plaudited as one of the films of last year, and winner of the Best Foreign Language Film Bafta, Almodovar's tale of revenge, conflicted souls, surreal normality and instability is quiet possibly one of the most shocking and powerfully thought provoking of the new decade.

Robert Ledgard (Antonio Banderas) is a highly successful, hugely rich plastic surgeon inhabiting a rolling estate outside of Toledo, one part his home and one part the clinic where he conducts his experiments into transgenesis (manipulating human tissue). Also sharing the house are a team of servants, led by old family friend and confidante Marilia (Marisa Paredes), who tend to the needs of the other inhabitant, a mysterious and beautiful young woman, Vera (Elena Anaya), who lives a strange life as a semi-prisoner, part captive and part treasured guinea pig of Robert.

A pall of ugly secrets and unspoken truths surround the house, and around Robert himself, especially after his most recent, ethically suspect ventures are shot down by his superiors. A widower, Robert's feelings towards Vera become complicated after his work on her is complete, at which point she is supposedly 'perfect'. It seems she cannot be allowed to leave, and faces life in a state of limbo in her master's possession.

This entanglement of emotion is thrown into chaos upon the arrival of Marilia's long lost son, Zeca 'The Tiger' (Robert Alamo), who forces his way into the home demanding treatment from the doctor, and becomes instantly enraptured by Vera, who he is convinced is somebody else...somebody that everybody concerned knows except Vera herself. After things come to a violent climax, Vera finds solace in Robert's arms, and as they share a bed, they think back to the chain of events which led them to that point, and the astonishing, devastating truth is revealed about just who the pristine girl truly is, and was.

It's best to note as early as possible that, although it's not a gimmicky twists and turns film, and certainly isn't presented as such, the plot revelation, which is a total game changer (and head spinner) that occurs over halfway through is what The Skin I Live In is fated to be best known for, and the implications of the shock moment are such that it's very difficult to fuly describe the film without revealing it, intentionally or otherwise. But, rest assured, the story this twist is tied into thrives because of it, rather than it being a boost of attention.

The plot itself, which deviates heavily from Joquet's source material but retains its basic traits, is a slow winding and human story, a dual character study for Robert and Vera, both of whom are fleshed out heavily but with subtlety. There is little judgement from Almodovar, despite the moral complexities and philosophical rigmarole, who like Mallick in Badlands instead chooses to employ a detached, objective focus on the two people at the centre of a windy, dreamlike tale.

We are introduced to both through Vera's dysfunctional existence, cut off from all but Robert in an isolated wing of the house, receiving food and clothes through a dumb waiter, while the questionable surgeon is giving talks about the power of reconstructive surgery. Her suicide attempts are not seen as out of the ordinary, and nor is her strangely loyal behaviour and utter dependance, the lack of resistance or fighting back. We learn small amounts through these dribs and drabs, though never quite as much as we'd like.

It's not until the flashbacks occur that we begin to understand the background of the pair, grasping the substance of their relationship and the origins, that clarity begins to make sense. It's here that the is a shocking, shuddering halt, a mind boggling event passed off as matter of factly as all that has preceded it, which completely changes the complexion of the film, drastically alters our perceptions and opinions, and adds nightmare fuel to the final stages when resolution comes a'knockin.

The way in which this is handled by Almodovar is extraordinary, with such natural storytelling poise that is lacking in modern day Directors. What would be pushed as the M.Night moment, or the Crying Game moment, by some is just treated as par to the course for the veteran with a sense of logical bluntness, as if he is saying to the viewer "What? You didn't know this already?".
Similarly, the scripting leading up to this event is so well paced and set that the whole transition is seamless, pressuring the audience to confront their own morality.

As the centre pieces, Banderas and Anaya are extraordinary, emoting such wide ranging thoughts and feelings, wildly differentiating states of mind with mastery, painting pictures of human beings that are physically sound but are fractured souls. It doesn't take long to establish that Banderas is something of an anti-villain, yet he is no preening megalomaniacal scalpel wielding monster, everything he does seems to make sense, simply because he is so assured and convinced. His true motives are buried deep, and the tears in his mind and heart are well concealed. He seems in total control, even when his actions suggest he is insane. Meanwhile Anaya, an actress sure to be talent spotted for big, big things in the near future, inbues deep, uncertain vulnerabilty, seemingly submissive but harbouring both doubts and agendas, holding back questions and hiding notions.

There's further support from Marisa Paredes as Marila, a character who's significance is unclear at first, but bears heavy burdens of her own, and certainly is part of the swirling, sinister emotion and ideals. Robert Alamo is highly effective and menacing in his brief but memorable and important role, while there is also excellent story building work from Blanca Suarez and Jan Cornet in the flashbacks. Alberto Iglesias's soundtrack veers from soothing and melacholy to dark and brooding at perfectly placed moments, in tandem with the story, while the cinematography is flawless, beautiful in places. There isn't a technical flaw to be found within the piece.

Ultimately, The Skin I Live In is one of those rare films that raise many questions that don't concern the plot. The unthinkable subtext the film brings up forces the audience to look within themselves further, as well as stunning them to the core. A perfectly plotted and placed psychological character study of two messed up people with one hell of a dark, sordid past, The Skin I Live In serves as a thoughtful, benign yet chilling and haunting horror film without the scares. Thundering in impact, yet quiet and musing in execution. And featuring one of the most loaded final scenes ever. Truly questionable, intoxicating, unmissable viewing.


9/10

Rant - [REC], Unseen Cameramen and the Fall of Horror Films

RANT TIME!

Huge balls. Yes, that is the preface for this article, but not in the literal terms you may well have imagined. Not genuine big balls. An expression of frustration and a indicment of something generally shit.

It's been a while since I've gone into rant mode, something which should really be a regular occurence considering the way this blog is titled. And, since I'm pretty much permanently logged into 'film-mode', it would make sense to make a start there. My medication has been thrown at the wall from Yonkers, the blocks have been removed, time to spit-wax lyircum.

The subject of my ire this time has been brought up by my weekly movie night being ruined by a hugely disappointing, infuriating 'critically acclaimed' slice of timewasting, teasing mediocrity and crowd pandering money making. Namely the Spanish horror film '[REC]', yet another 'found footage' type thrill ride, this time with a difference.
The 'difference' is that there isn't a difference, and frankly it's as thrilling as a prostate exam sans rubber glove and lube.

And It Sucks Because...?

In order to make the point a little clearer, and also help alleviate my condition (supposedly a civilian version of PTSD), I shall briefly review said film just now.

The 2007 film by Jaume Balaguero and Paco Plaza is the story of a bunch of people stuck in a building with zombies and stuff. Except fast zombies. And some kind of disease and quarantine and all that. This TV reporter (a young woman who strips down to her undervest at the earliest opportunity, you know....because of sex) and her cameraman are making a documentary about firefighters in the unnamed Spanish city, and tag along when two of the guys are sent to an apartment building because an old woman is screaming. Here, they find all of the building's inhabitants hanging around in the lobby because....um...because an old woman is screaming. Oh, and she's weird and lives with her cats. As if that matters (or is fresh or something...clear red herring territory...you can almost smell the salmonella).

Anyway, despite pissing off everyone and generally getting away, the reporter and the cameraman are allowed to go upstairs as they break into the flat and find the old woman covered in blood and gibbering inanely. As soon as one of the present cops turns round (a veteran police officer leaving himself exposed to a potentially dangerous and unstable member of the public ALREADY covered in somebody else's blood), crazy old hag lunges in and cranks up the gore factor to parody levels to bite out his throat. Everyone panics, shouting and all that jazz. Then they rush near dead officer downstairs, leaving the second police officer to arrest the woman, handcuff her and bring her down....

Oh wait, no they don't. The other cop helps take dying guy away, leaving the youngest and most inexperienced fireman alone to guard the unrestrained woman who has just tried to kill an agent of the law. Hmm...guess what happens to him.
Then it turns out that the law has sealed up the building, citing that it's a quarantine against a potential contagion, trapping everyone inside. Pretty bad right? So the colourful characters who live in this nice looking building all start shouting and freaking out, the cop pulls his gun on everyone, and then the second fireman (who was left conspicously unarmed and unprepared to guard an attempted murderer on his lonesome, in an unsecured and unsearched darkened apartment) shows up by screaming and taking a plunge down the stairwell. Ok, credit where it's due, I almost shat myself when this happened.

Right, I'm veering dangerously close to simply describing the film's plot here, which will more or less waste word space, so I'll summarise the situation and then dissect the bullshit with the aid of appropriate SPOILER tags as surgical bay curtains. Alrighty?

So, everything is set up and established nicely. There's plenty of mystery, some in-film rules have been established, everything is boiling nicely (aside from the flaws in logic, but these things can be passed off...possibly). They can't leave the building, because they're stuck inside. They can't go back upstairs, because that's where the crazy is. You have two dying men who need to go to hospital, strange noises and real potential for creepiness and scares. So what goes wrong? I'll tell you.

[SPOILERS]

The film messes it up by basically following tropes and cliches present in every other similar film. It chooses frights over genuine horror, screams over tension, and monsters over fear. For every good step it takes, such as building up animosity and conflict between the characters, it takes a wrong one by going down the B-Movie route of trailer fodder thrills over plot based substance.

Where it could have been original, it rehashes. The monsters are basically the infected from 28 Days Later, following the same ground rules and breaking parameters. These 'undead' style victims are stronger than regular humans, as well as extremely aggressive. They only bite the necks of potential victims....for some reason. When they could easily rip into somebody's hand or leg, they instead try to go for the jugular. Like vampires. Hmm...yup, vampire-zombie-infected...s.

But it's not just in these stakes that it gets fucked. The main character, the reporter Angela, becomes an action girl from the moment stuff gets weird, yet has a bi-polar personality. One moment she's cynical and selfish, determined to get footage and to scream blue murder at the cop for being as equally screwed as the rest of them, the next she's overly compassionate and empathetic, the moral core. Of course, she's more proactive than anyone else. The cop, incidentally, goes from Blue Screen of Death moment to general wannabe leader and then into some rapidly changing amalgam of heroism and terrified out of his depth amateur. The fireman, Manu, equally flickers between cowardly to heroic. There's a preening, racist apartment dweller, and Asian family, a conveniently placed interm who is overqualified, a creepy little girl...yup.

And, oh wow, we never see the cameraman (What a wonderful plot device! Because this way, we are the cameraman. We're Pablo!...um, except not all of us are called Pablo, and most of us probably don't have his voice...). No, nothing gimmicky about that. This leads us to one of the film's biggest flaws.

[END SPOILERS]

Where similar fare, notably The Blair Witch Project, get it absolutely right is this: when the film is atmospheric and taut, you are so caught up in events and the action that you actively forget the format you're watching. Is it handheld? Are the characters filming? I was too distracted by the dementia causing tension to notice. Add to that an in-universe explanation (in BWP, Heather films because it makes it easier for her to distance herself from the terrifying situation).

But [REC], like the equally inferior Paranormal Activity, makes you painfully and acutely aware of the fact that some autistic asshole is still swinging the camera around, causing more harm than good. You wonder why he doesn't ditch the heavy, incumbersome piece of machinery so he can run away faster. Even when it is useful as a torch, it is not used in this manner.

Even when the camera itself can prove itself useful, this opportunity is ditched. In one scene, some of the characters need information they cannot remember, and are faced with having to put themselves in harm's way in order to obtain it. This is despite the fact that the number they need is in the footage, they can recover it by simply playing back the video. You could argue that they would be too scared to think of this...and I would agree if they hadn't done it earlier, at a no less traumatic moment. This inconsistency, setting up and foreshadowing but then forgetting, is simply lazy plotting, unfocussed writing.

But this is just a symptom of a bigger problem.

Bad Horror isn't Horrifying

The issue here is the loss of discipline in making horror films, supposedly scary movies that are meant to prove a visceral, shocking and terrifying experience for the viewer. Ridley Scott recently commented, as part of his promotion of Prometheus, that it is harder to scare people now. This isn't exactly true.

The problem is that it in tried and tested fashion, it has been found that selling cinema tickets is far easier when you focus on scares, on those moments that make people jump. However, the horrific mutated offspring of this fact is that modern day horror films are simply a series of these events stapled together with a half baked plot (and that's putting it mildly). Yes, it may frighten people, make their heart race, but it's unsatisying and has minimal repeat value. And of course, 'found footage' format is perfect for these tactics, because you can have monsters jumping out at the camera and other such cliches. Do they work? Yes. Are they predicatable? Absa-fucking-exactly.

This isn't true to the genre. Films such as Blair Witch, The Excorcist, Alien, The Shining and The Haunting (more on this later) are damn effective and memorable because of the tone and mood, the palpable sense of dread that they build up, so claustraphobic. Where does this stem from? It comes from discipline, from patience, and from good storytelling, good characterisation and excellent subtext. In each of these films, there's an underlying theme, something which drives the plot and makes for great anaylsis. Dross such as [REC] and Paranormal Activity lack any kind of depth, or intelligence, so have no substance, only style.

With this in mind, here are a list of rules for making excellent horror:

1. STORY: Come up with a great story first, from start to finish, make sure it all makes sense and works in it's own confines. The film must make sense, and just because it's horror doesn't mean it can ignore basic storytelling principles.
2. CHARACTERS: Introduce us to the people, get to known them, FORCE the audience to like them and understand them, to empathise and relate to them. When shit goes down, it's more scary if we care about what happens to them.
3. LESS IS MORE: Not showing the evil is oh so much better. Remember, the imagination of the audience is infinitely more effective than whatever CGI or make up designs you can come up with. An apocalyptic log entry is creepier than a special effect zombie, and goes much further in terms of tension. The aftermath is scarier than spoonfeeding.
4. PURPOSE: No matter how messed up the film, it must have purpose, and follow its own strand of logic. If a nympho vampire wolf hybrid jumps out of a cupboard, there has to be a reason. Why was he in the cupboard? Why is he attacking? How did he become this way?
5. STORY!!!: I can't stress this enough. You must have the outline, the blueprint first, not the scares. Act One, Act Two, Act Three, Act Four, Act Five. They must ALL be there, corresponding perfectly.

A great example of the significance of these cornerstones is, how such a horror film ends. Again going back to a Mr Moneybags scenario, more recent fare are more interested in a twist ending, or a Hollywood killer shot. This is when the final image is supposed to be a shocker, something which sends you out on a freaky, terrifying note. Basically a scary equivalent of a cumshot.

But these usually fail because they ignore everything that came before (no pun intended). So, in Paranormal Activity, the girl lunges at the stationary unmanned camera with her bloodied teeth. Why? Why does she do that? Does she intend to eat it? Somehow I doubt a demon possessing a young woman would have the foresight to leave a 'fuck you' for whoever had to watch the footage back to find out what the hell happened. On a different note, [REC] ceases the main character being dragged into the darkness, out of sight. Why? Um...because it's...chilling? Not really, it's no worse than anything we've already seen. It doesn't add to what we've found out.

And before the 'final shot', both films pile on half arsed exposition in an attempt to provide an explanation. In Paranormal Activity, the guy (annoying, inappropriate cameraman) randomly finds information on an identical demonic haunting which ended up killing some woman. How is this useful? It doesn't provide any explanation as to why this is happening, why it is happening to them, or what the source of this demon thing is.

In [REC], it's the revelation that the uninhabited penthouse is actually some crazy shit lab for finding a cure for a supposedly possessed girl, that went awry. But there isn't enough facts to suggest how the chain of events came about. So the infection started with the girl? How did she give it to the dog?

The door was locked shut, nobody else has been in the apartment for ages. How did the dog come into contact with the possessed girl?

Because....Just Because

Answer: No answer.

Alternate Answer: Laziness (see right).

Simple. Why bother going to all that effort to make sure it makes sense? Because, who cares after all? The people that line up to shit their pants "aren't there to think about it, they want to be scared". But what if it's not scary? "Well, the box office says it is..."

Hence the problem, and once again we're back on to the subject of human stupidity, of general ignorance and borderline attention-defecit disorder. It's so easy to be provided these days, because of the internet and because of technology. Everything's so simple and easy, and people don't care about going the whole haul. Why spend two hours getting ingrossed in an evil story when you can just have fright and fright for an hour and a half? Building up a strong plot and good character development, working up tension and atmosphere, is boring.

Compare the original 1963 The Haunting, with Claire Bloom, to the 1999 remake. The first is subtle and tense, unebearably taut, and underplayed to the max. We barely see a thing, and get wrapped in the dread and the atmosphere, to the point a vase being knocked over is the most terrifying thing that could possibly happen.

The second is worse than runny dog shit, an utter disservice to the classic original and a disgrace it of itself. It can best be summed up with one sentence: "Owen Wilson gets his head bitten off by a fireplace".

So what does this mean? Has there just been a massive slide in quality over the course of the years since Robert Wise's master class? Well, CGI got better, which hurts the genre since it's inability to show convincing visuals forced it to be subversive for so long. They couldn't show a convincing ghost before, and now they can. Imagine how much Jaws would lose if we saw the shark more often.

But the cause is ultimately the masses, and everything feeds from that. It's much easier to make a rollercoaster ride movie than a film, and more profitable to be stupid and predictable than original and thoughtful. Overkill and gorn (gore porn) is easier to sell than tension, violence is more popular when it loses its impact and is just thrown into the mix for the sake of making an adolscent scream. Time would be wasted writing a good story, because these people don't care about the story. They care about somebody jumping out from behind a door, or something throwing itself at an underwritten character.

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is the why. For worse or for worse, the horror genre is going down the shitter faster than my latest Chicken Korma. And that makes me sad.

And mad, and angry, and furious, and murderous...

RANT OVER

Katyn - Film Review

Surely Polish cinema's finest and most distinguished filmmaker, trailblazing and Oscar winning director Andrzej Wajda here turns his attention rather close to home with a historical piece regarding the Katyn Massacre of 1940.

The incident, the mass execution of roughly 20,000 Polish army officers in the titular forest, is covered with a rather unexpected angle, shrouding the actual atrocity in mystery and focussing on its ramifications over the course of the following five years, in particular the burden of unknowing carried by two families.

It starts in 1939, with Poland attacked from both sides by German and Russian armies exploiting their mutual non-aggression pact. After being forced into surrender, the military's officer corps is rounded up by Soviet forces, taken as POWs ready to be transitted to Eastern gulags. Anna (Maja Ostaszewska) is the wife of one of said men, Andrzej (Artur Zmijewski), and after a desperare farewell, has to watch him being taken by train out of the country. In the same shipment of prisoners is his friend Jerzy (Andrzej Chyra) and a senior General (Jan Englert) with his own worried family left behind.

With the Soviets and Germans now in control of the country, Anna and her daughter (Wiktoria Gasiewska) face an uncertain fate, endangered by Anna's status as an Officer's wife, and attempt to dodge the attention of the occupation while awaiting news of Andrzej. All hope is lost following the revelation that a mass grave filled with Polish POWs has been discovered in the Katyn forest, and the released Jerzy bringing news that Andrzej is seemingly one of the dead. As the years pass, and the nature of the occupation mutating, the blame for the crime is pinned on the Germans, despite the apparently blatant part played by the Soviets, and efforts are made by the survivors to establish just what happened in the woods that fateful morning.

One of the things that makes Katyn stand out from similar efforts, aside from it shedding light on an oddly unheard of incident, is that it takes a different view of the matter. Wajda, who's own father was killed in the massacre, instead pays heed to the uncertainty over the victims (the unreliable Katyn list), to the loved ones of those killed, and to the cover up instigated by the Soviet Union's secret police. The maddening nature of the Russian occupation's unaccountability for the deaths is a keystone of the story, and the effects of the denial on the population are undeniable.

As such, the film's big moment, the actual mass murder itself, is only shown and illuminated in gut wrenching, flesh crawling style at the very end, the final revelation as proof seemingly emerges and the prospect of justice seems far closer than ever before. That closure is granted to Anna, who has spent five years simply not knowing what to believe, provides a human conclusion to the story.

While Katyn is a noble and occasionally powerful film, enfused with a strong sense of purpose and moral equity, its main flaw is that for much of the running time, it tries to do too much in too little time, nearly tarnishing the impact of the conclusion, and the dichtonomy of the piece. While Wajda's directing is excellent, music clinical and acting (particularly from We're All Christs star Andrzej Chyra, and Maja Ostaszewska) first rate, the film's uneven pacing becomes a problem during the bumpy middle, and the introduction of new characters is an awkwardly handled process, with the likes of Magdalena Cielecka's Agnieszka stepping into the plot with no real introduction or apparent reason, and then moving out again in baffling circumstances. The small, poignant role of Anna's nephew Tadeusz (Antoni Pawlicki), an eager young student torn between family honour and his education within the occupation, is a brief but highly effective exception.

With this, Wajda is clearly striving to go beyond the norms of such war horror fare and open the door on the equally insidious house of cards upon which the dishonest Soviet occupation mounted their lies about the incident, and also by bringing into play the other side of the tragedy, the loss felt by those left behind by the appaling act. While at times he succeeds, and certainly raises awareness of the darkest of dark moments within the 20th Century, an occasional lack of focus means that Katyn falls short of its targets, and doesn't quite reach the heights it really should.

Certainly effective filmmaking, it doesn't quite live up to its own billing, and such can be viewed as flawed rather than ill-judged, good instead of great.


8/10

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - Film Review

Taking John Le Carre's classic spy mystery thriller and turning it into a cogent feature film was always going to be a troublesome task, especially considering the cult status of the preceding Alec Guinness mini-series. But Swedish director Tomas Alfredson approaches the material with a combination of reverence and fullhearted determination.

Following a disastarous operation in Budapest which results in the death of one of their operatives, the British Intelligence Service (The Circus as they are known) react by firing their head honcho 'Control' (John Hurt) and his right hand man George Smiley (Gary Oldman), who both promptly retire. Not long after, information emerges that there is a mole working for the Russians within the Circus, and Smiley is asked to identify the double agent.

Setting up his covert assignment, Smiley inlists the help of junior spy Peter Guillam (Benedict Cumberbatch) , and sets about monitoring and investigating his former colleagues. He narrows his search down to the codenamed, titular heads of the organisation: Bill Hadley - 'Tinker' (Colin Firth), Percy Alleline - 'Tailor' (Toby Jones), Roy Bland - 'Soldier' (Ciaran Hinds) and Toby Hesterhase - 'Poor Man' (David Dencik). Along the way he encounters double crossing, double bluffs and shock revelations as the suspicions fluctuate and the finger of accusation criss crosses.

Considering the esteem in which the source material is held, it's no great surprise to see just how much quality the ensemble possesses here. In terms of talent, it is a star studded line up for quite an understated piece. And Alfredson, never bowed by the material, does wonderfuly well to harness everything and keep it together. Attention is payed to the right people at the right time, with the film's use of flashbacks never jarring enough to distract you from events. Everybody gets their moment in the sun, and nobody is set out as a sacred cow or a dead cert at any point, with every strong reaction framed as a potential sign of guilt.

While the labyrinthe plot, which not only involves the main 'hunt for the Ruskie lover' focus but also international diplomacy and deliberately convuluted background schemes involving Russian activity in the red sea, is complex, the film doesn't simply dive into dry, talky expositional investigation. Scenes that come to pass are unbearably tense, and some of the story's most effective moments are emotional ones, as we get glimmers (in Smiley's case) or personal strife as well some moving, tragic, deeply personal tales.

The best of these go to Mark Strong's Jim Prideaux, a loyal agent who is dumped on the scrap heap, teaching at a boy's school and living in a miserable caravan, and also to Tom Hardy's Ricki Tarr, a frontline operative who loses sight of professional discretion when he falls for the wife of the Russian diplomat he's tracking, with potentially fatal results. These segments, ultimately vital to the plot in a manner perhaps unclear for long stretches, are played beautifuly and written lovingly, while also serving as a well placed indictment of the shadow men that the film portrays.

Of what is seen of the home lives of the characters, the word 'shambolic' springs to mind. Smiley, immaculate professionally, is troubled by his straying wife and forces his feelings and self below the surface, hidden behind a veneer of calm and composure behind the large spectacles. A maze of deep bonds and hidden secrets pass from agent to agent, suggestions of more than meets the eye, but scant confirmation. The exception is Tarr, a young and cocky, but tough and knowing, figure who has no qualms about baring his soul even as he scampers from hiding hole to darkened room, a hunted man.

It's the depth that exists so viscerally in Tinker Tailor that makes it so compelling. On paper, little is revealed about any of the players in the game, even the protagonist. Yet in practice, brought to life by a set of actors at the top of their game, each have their own story and their own personality, even when it isn't in written form. From top to bottom, the film is stuffed with top drawer performers, from Firth and Toby Jones to Hardy, Cumberbatch and even Kathy Burke and Stephen Graham in smaller roles. Special credit must be given to Mark Strong, who is given the chance to display prominent vulnerability and tragic conflict as Jim Prideaux. His menial, depressing existence is steeped in loneliness, only moved by his bond with a outcast young boy he teaches, another Bill. It is touching yet, in its conclusion, ultimately sad.

But of course, the master of the show is Gary Oldman, an actor of incredible talent rarely given the centre of focus. There isn't a better actor in the industry for chameleon-like performance, and here he is at the top of his game. As soon as he appears, he promptly disappears into Smiley, inhabiting him seemlessly, with every telling adjustment of his jacket or thoughtful, dubious stare. It is as far as you can get from a 'big performance', and all the better for it. This is a three dimensional character, brought wonderfuly to life, subtle and understated, quiet and reserved. Though almost twenty minutes elapse before he speaks, you can almost hear his voice already, such is the projection. His long overdue Oscar nod is justified on the basis of his turn here.

For all that Tinker Tailor is a compelling, not to mention at times rivetting, thriller whodunnit, it takes a step up from what could have been simply entertaining but showing ferocious intelligence, not just in terms of plot but also in terms of people. With a full house of class act performances, led at the top by an acting collussus at his own peak, and one of the finer adaptations of recent times, the film really is stand out. And, it seems, much extra value comes in when he realise its repeat value. John Le Carre must surely be very satisfied.


9/10

The Guard - Film Review

A novel slant on the 'fish out of water cop' story, one that focusses on the bumpkin defacto partner and plays out as a bantering, rambling dialogue laden black comedy amidst a back story of drug trafficking and duress, The Guard is a fresh, surprising slice of fun from John Michael McDonagh.

On the sleepy, largely Gaellic speaking West coast of Ireland, local Garda (Policeman) Gerry Boyle (Brendan Gleeson) goes about his dull, dysfunctional days like a Bad Lieutenant played for laughs, more interested in procuring some drink and drug for lonely nights and fancy dress hookers for his day off than he is locking down crime scenes. His mother (Fionnula Flanagan) has just been put in a home, and a new recruit (Rory Keenan) is getting on his nerves. And then the narcotics ring shows up.

Boyle, the laconic fool it seems, is thrust upon FBI Agent Wendell Everett (Don Cheadle) as the Fed attempts to track down the gang, and the cringe worthy clashing of cultures commences. Meanwhile, the bad guys themselves (played by Liam Cunningham, Mark Strong and David Wilmot) go about bribing of killing any of the local law enforcement who threaten their operation, bringing them to Boyle's door. Inconvenient for him, since he just wants to be left alone.

As you may well expect from McDonagh (brother of In Bruges' maker Martin), though the plot sounds plenty heavy and crime thriller based, The Guard rarely ventures into serious territory, and even then the exposure to the audience is minimal. This is a comedy, ultimately, though one based on an only slightly altered realm of reality where everyone has hysterical conversations and musings. Drug dealers rack their brains for philosophical quotes, local kids are experts on federal agencies, it's all par to the course.

With a couple of notable, and merited exceptions, the hilarity of the film comes from it's dialogue, full of recurring jokes, double take bafflement and inappropriate casualness, not to mention misconstrued racial slurs and ignorant assumptions. Though Boyle is seen by many as the idiot of the piece, his disdainful approach to life puts him in better stead than the men with guns who seem themselves as better. When it comes to plotting, the film takes an approach which is somewhere between western and noir only for long enough to satirise both, and then get back to
its eccentric heart.

Continuing his long overdue ascension from Hollywood supporting character actor supremo into unconventional leading man, Brendan Gleeson is wonderful here as Boyle, a bizarre and unruly, yet somehow amiable, protagonist who drives the film's shambling story. Though he is on paper unpleasant and morally bankrupt, in practice he is a genial oddball who constantly surprises by being highly effective in his job, at least in the long run.

Gleeson is given great comic foil by Don Cheadle, Hollywood A-picture actor who deliberately stands out like a sore thumb, sent to a comparative back water where the view on Americans is dim, and casual racism is prevelant though not especially malicious. Though Cheadle has to spend much of the film's duration in a perpetual state of bemusement, he still manages to bring a rounded character to Everett, a humanity which could easily have been done without. Iniatially dumbfounded by Boyle from the start, he slowly grows to appreciate his unlikely partner's outlook and enjoy his company. As a double act, unlikely though it is, they are perfect.

The villainous trio of Cunningham, Strong and Wilmot enjoy themselves as the drug traffickers, humourously self aware and often pretentious about their role in proceedings. There's also some nice supporting work from Flanagan, Katarina Cas and Dominique McElligot in hugely varying roles.

But the real joy of The Guard is its attitude, taking a traditional crime story and treating it with very wry, very Irish, humour and giving it real heart in the process, sweary and drink filled though it may be, happy to play into stereotypes and occasionally trapsing into the realms of Coen-esque farce. As a comedy, it succeeds wonderfuly, boasting an intricate and intelligently funny script, but it has more charm and brains than a laugh inducing vehicle. Tongue may firmly be in cheek, but eyebrow is crooked ironically.

As Gerry Boyle says, "That's for me to know, and you to find out".


9/10

Suicide Room - Film Review

For his first foray into cinema, writer-director Jan Komasa taps into adolescent plight with everything from social networking obsession to sexual confusion and self harm, right on to virtual escapism and macabre ritual bonding.

In Suicide Room (Sala Samobojcow) we follow young Dominik (Jakub Gierszal), a relatively popular rich kid on the verge of finishing high school, life priveleged and care free. That is, until a traumatic and angst ridden incident with a fellow male student leaves him a social pariah and laughing stock. Experiencing a mini-breakdown, he runs the full gambit of emotions and exiles himself to solitary confinement in his bedroom.

During one of his episodes of despair, he by chance meets a mysterious girl online, an internet addict named Sylwia (Roma Gasiorowska-Zurawska) who introduces him to an avatar based role playing game called the Suicide Room, frequented by disillusioned and dangerously grim minded souls. Through this forum, and via web cam conversations, Dominik forms a strong emotional tie with Sylwia, and also begins to alter his perception of life, becoming more insular and yet more anarchic too, self destruction fuelled by perverse kinship. Meanwhile, Dominik's parents (Agata Kuleszka and Krzysztof Pieczynski) find themselves dealing with the crisis neither is prepared for, as they fail to comprehend their son's downfall.

Komosa, showing audacious confidence for a filmmaker previously only known for TV movies and shorts, here reigns in what sounds like a bleak, modest tale and instead blows it up into a multi-spectral tragedy that in places borders on modern sattire. Not only is Dominik's meltdown extremely visceral, but the seductive power of the suicide room is played out with attentive care, putting us into the mind of the teenage protagonist. The ideals are suitably contradictory, yet played straight, never highlighted as key marks of the confusion and alienation.

While Dominik's harsh, pain ridden journey is of course the film's focus, a healthy amount of attention is paid to the parents subplot. Rather than being cliched, overwrought do gooders, they are self obssessed business first types who cannot get their head around their son's behaviour, so sure that throwing money at him during his whole life is emotionally sufficient. When he falls apart, they don't know how to handle the situation, either by action or words, and act as enablers to their son's rebellion while protecting their own image. Ego and social ladder climbing plays a part in much of the film's characters.

Pretty searing in its delving look into the affluent subcultures of the well off young and older alike, Suicide Room treats the patrons of the titular community with sensitivity and empathy, indulging their attitudes and viewpoints. This is particularly true of Sylwia, an enigmatic and alluring, yet tragic figure hidden in darkness or behind a 3D character, and is played down to a tee by Gasiorowska, a stand out.

Though Dominik is far from a sympathetic lead, who is frankly an asshole before his inward fall, the source of the good will towards him from the audience is purely down to a powerful, utterly commited turn from Jakub Gierszal. He winds his way through the spectrum of emotions, from smug and arrogant smarm to dishevelled, screaming wreck, never once hamming it. Much of his angst and desperation is truly hard to sit through, for all the right reasons.

The spry pacing and momentum Komosa brings is both exciting and engaging, and his story bars no holds. Yet, for all it's downer beats and painful sentiment, Suicide Room doesn't simply tug at heart strings and play it's own visual violin. It's a sad story, undoubtedly, but not a depressing film, which is quite something. And for all it's bordering, it's a pretty simple one too, about growing pains and identity crisis. Something anyone who was once young (which should probably be everyone) should no doubt appreciate.

8/10

The Dark Knight Rises - Preview

When Gotham is ashes, you have my permission to die.

It's a cinematic event as much as it's the big, new shiny adrenaline pumping ride, and such is the hype and anticipation posed by Rises that fans pour over every small detail, cram into IMAX screens to catch it's trailers, and debate endlessly about everything from hidden villains to deaths, to backstories. And although release is still over six months away, there is a palpable sense of significance.
The final chapter in the Nolanverse Batman trilogy, the Dark Knight Saga as it is now officially called, will be a big deal.

And in an attempt to appraise those without the investigative obssession of the fanatics, here I have tried to collate everything you need to know about the film everyone has taken notice of.

See The Dark Knight Rises Official Trailer

See The Dark Knight Rises Teaser Trailer


The Story

-We have started the fire...
-The fire rises.

It is eight years after the Joker's reign of terror and Harvey Dent's descent into madness. Peace has lasted, Gotham free from the clutches of chaos and destruction.

But that tranquil peace is shattered by an impending storm, at the front of which is terrorist/mercenary Bane (Tom Hardy).

Arriving with a bang, the bombing of a football game, and leading his own militia of fanatic loyalists, Bane conducts a revolution as he exposes the corruption of those who govern, causing the people of Gotham to rise. While Commissioner Jim Gordon's (Gary Oldman) GPD are overwhelmed by the fighting in the streets, the caped crusader picks up his cowl once more for his grimmest battle yet. It seems, however, that he may have help in the form of another vigilante, of a feline vareity...

The Details

- Now is not the time for fear. That comes later.

Bale, Oldman, Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman and Nestor Carbonell (as Mayor Garcia) all reprise their roles, while aside from Tom Hardy the other new faces are Anne Hathaway as Selina Kyle/Catwoman, Joseph Gordon Levitt as John Blake and Matthew Modine as Nixon, both Gotham Police Department officers, and Marion Cotillard as Wayne Enterprises executive Miranda Tate. Interestingly, Josh Pence, who provided body double work for the Winklevoss brothers in The Social Network, will star as 'Young Ra's Al Ghul', suggesting the use of flashbacks ala Batman Begins.

Meanwhile, James Newton Howard has dropped out of co-composing duties, so Hans Zimmer will be working solo on the score, at least for the most part. Hundreds of film fans will appear in the film, or more specifically their voices will. Zimmer enlisted a chorus of competition winners to put together the Bane chant of "de-shay, de-shay, bah-shah-rah, bah-shah-rah".

The script has been co-penned by the Nolan brothers, Christopher and Jonathan, and Wally Pfister will once again turn his brilliant visual eye to the cinematography, which will contain far more IMAX work than was present in the previous film. Aesthetically, Gotham and the set pieces that take place in it will never look better. Filming has taken place in various locations, from New York (for a spookily familiar sounding Wall Street riot) to the Highlands of Scotland.

The Characters

The dark knight is naturally the focus of the battle ahead, both physically and spirtually as he comes to terms with his existence while using every inch of strength he has to tackle his foe. But he is not alone in his fight, and will have some help at least.

He will also have some truly deadly enemies...

Bruce Wayne/Batman

-The Batman has to come back.
-What if he doesn't exist anymore?
-He must....he must...

Eight years is a long time, and though it's not clear what pointy ears has been doing during that plot hiatus, it's pretty certain it's not been a particularly happy time. Bruce Wayne is in bad shape, and the Batman is a distant memory for most.

When war comes to Gotham, in the form of Bane, Bruce is completely unprepared for the ferocious attack.

He's back at home in the rebuilt Gotham manor with his mentor/surrogate father/scribe/friend Alfred (Michael Caine), and still putting on the playboy act as a deception. But it's unlikely his identity will remain secret for much longer...


Bane

-Nobody cared who I was until I put on the mask.

The big bad, in so many ways.

A dangerous mercenary and terrorist, boasting both incredible physical strength and audacious intelligence, Bane has turned his attention to Gotham, and plans to tear it down by the seams. He is a brutal, ferocious monster of a man.

Unlike previous incarnations, Bane does not gain his powers from the mask, but instead anaesthetic for the pain he suffers constantly, the results of a traumatic injury earlier in his life. As of yet, the nature of this, or much of anything about his backstory, is unknown.


Commissioner Jim Gordon

-The mayor's gonna dump him in the spring.
-But he's a hero.
-A WAR hero. This is peace time.

The good cop, the shepherd, Gordon is in very serious trouble. On the verge of losing his position, he is the first line of defense as Bane's spreading fire strikes the city, and is one of the first to fall. Ailing in his hospital bed, he begs and prays for Batman to return and to save them all from the rising evil.

Selena Kyle/Catwoman

-There's a storm coming, Mr Wayne...

Alluring and dangerous, Ms Kyle speaks the words of a revolutionary and stalks the streets as a feline. The dangerous foreshadowing of her warning to Bruce at a masquerade ball fills the hero with concern, and marks her as a possible advesary, or ally.

As is the case with much of the Batman backcatalogue, it is hard to tell whether the lady is a goodie or a baddie, and in the tradition of precedent, will likely fall somewhere in between, and anti-hero anti-villain. She may help Bruce escape imprisonment, and will be seen straddling the batpod with lustre.

Possibly a successor, possibly a soulmate.

John Blake and Miranda Tate


The wild cards of the story, with doubtlessly significant purpose, are GPD officer John Blake, assigned to special duties under Gordon, and Miranda Tate, an executive at Wayne Enterprises who takes special, perhaps romantic interest in Bruce.

It is hard to tell at this stage whether they are crouching dragons or simply straightforward characters free from the open air of comic book history.

The Others

Alfred, the pillar in Bruce Wayne's life is still undertaking his own mission to protect him, but is beset by worry and concern, convinced he has failed. Lucius Fox will continue to help Batman's quest, on the technological front, but with the caped crusader's true identity being sought, Fox is in a more dangerous position than ever before.

Nixon is a high flying cop working under Jim Gordon, who finds himself on the front lines as the rising is initiated, while Holly Robinson (Juno Temple) is a close friend and potential follower to Selena Kyle.

What to Expect

-Deshay, deshay! Bashara, bashara!
-What does that mean?
-Rise.

Given the scale of the story, it's not exactly a surprise that the film will contain some truly huge event set pieces and ambitious action, as well as undoubted emotional strife and huge characterisations.

The film's prologue introduces us to Bane, and in some style. The antagonist allows himself to be captured by the CIA, and then stages a daring, audacious mid-air escape, capturing a scientist in the process. This, like the released bank robbery opening from The Dark Knight, gives us maximum thrills and through actions and well chosen words lets us get to know the villain quickly. It's quite a first impression.

Much of the rest regarding the plot and events is gleaned from the trailers or second hand info from the crew or witnesses to on-set filming. A football pitch will be destroyed during a game by explosives set by Bane and his men, getting everyone's attention. Afterward, Bane will introduce himself to the crowd, call on the citizens of Gotham to rise, and introduce an as yet unidentified figure who is "the tool of [their] liberation". Later, or perhaps before, he will reveal the secret behind the events of the previous film, announce Harvey Dent's killing spree and expose Gordon and his ilk for their lies.

During the film we will also see Batman in daylight for the first time, taking on Bane hand to hand in the midst of a mass riot, and will be introduced to what appears to be a tumbler (new saga Batmobile) that is capable of flight. Gordon will be hospitalised, left hopeless and despairing, and Bruce Wayne will be unmasked and locked up by Bane. As part of his master plan, the arch-nemesis will also release convicts from Gotham's prison and give them weapons to spread chaos. Scenes of the city's elite being attacked and dragged out of their mansions will feature. And, naturally, we will see the legend end.

Theories & Speculation

-Why do we fall, Bruce? So we can learn to pick ourselves up.

As you would expect, the rumour mill is going into overdrive, as are the imaginations of many an armchair filmmaker.

The very presence of any incarnation of Ra's Al Ghul suggests that the League of Shadows, the first film's antagonists, will return here in some form. It has been suggested that Bane is in fact working for them, as his mission is to turn Gotham to ashes, very similar to the intention Ra's had before he was killed. It is also believed in some quarters that Miranda Tate is in fact Talia Al Ghul, daughter of Ra's. And to top all that off, Liam Neeson has reportedly been seen on set.

Another suspicion, far less likely, is that John Blake will turn out to Robin, despite Nolan's insistence that the famous sidekick has no place in his trilogy. Being more pragmatic, it would be a fair compromise to suggest he could well turn out to be a successor. After all, why would such big name actors like Marion Cotillard and Joseph Gordon-Levitt appear in insignificant roles?

But the biggy concerns Batman, and his fate. This film, and this final conflict, resolves the saga, and it will not be followed up. In the comics, Bane is most famous for 'breaking the bat', or more accurately breaking his back. It has been speculated that the man seen in the trailer walking with a cane is in fact Bruce Wayne, left crippled by his first battle with the masked collossus. Will Bane prove too strong? Will this trilogy end with Wayne, and his alter ego? That possible death has been mooted, and is entirely possible.

The End

After all, it would bring the story to a full arc, and present the final, unwinable battle as Bruce becomes only Batman, and then falls as his symbol rises, holding back the flames as he does.

On July 20th, we'll all find out.

If you make yourself more than just a man, if you devote yourself to an ideal, you become something else entirely.
A legend, Mr. Wayne...

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