The Grey - Film Review

It's an indication of how strange Hollywood's plan for its minions' is, that, when read on paper or seen in a trailer, Joe Carnaghan's The Grey has all the makings of a Rambo-esque Alpha adrenaline fuelled adventure, with newly installed cinema badass grandpa Liam Neeson fighting a pack of wolves hand to hand in the harsh wilderness.

Once a highly promising director of hard boiled, emotionally charged drama thrillers, Carnaghan post-Smokin Aces and The A Team has the reputation for being one of film's experts in over the top entertainment, while Neeson's recent mutation from highly revered leading man into action hero is one of the most unlikely since Bruce Willis permanently waved goodbye to his comedy roots with Die Hard in 1989.

This sets up to a survival horror/thriller of disappointingly familiar nature, albeit played straight.

Ottaway (Neeson) is a security contractor for an oil company in rural Alaska, paid to protect the drillers from occasional wolf attacks through the scope of his sniper rifle. Beset by personal demons and suicidal urges following his wife's exit from his life, Ottaway's meaningless existence is thrown into sharp focus when he and a group of other employees are left stranded when their civilisation-bound plane crashes in the desolate snowfields of the frontier state.

The small knot of survivors (played by Frank Grillo, Dermot Mulroney, Dallas Roberts, Joe Anderson, Nonso Anozie and Ben Bray) are marooned in blizzard like conditions, wounded and surrounded by their dead colleagues. Initially intent to hole up and wait for rescue, their plans are quickly discarded when they discover they have fallen into the hunting grounds of a wolf pack, the lethal creatures making their presence known immediately. With the threat of artic conditions on one side, and being torn apart by nature's hunters on the other, Ottaway rallies the team and begins to lead them out of their nightmare, but not before there numbers begin to dwindle, pushing each and every man to his extreme limit, outcomes varying in gruesome, haunting manner.

All the hallmarks of a standard, Stallone-esque blockbuster are here on show. We have the grizzled loner with all the know-how and experience to combat the threat and to serve as the natural leader type. The group contain a couple of egregious trope codifiers as far as survivor characters go, with the most obvious being Frank Grillo's asshole cynic and Joe Anderson's buttmonkey slacker. There are the big bads of mother nature, even including the big boss mentioned by name with a sense of dread, then finally revealed in the climax. However, while The Grey cannot be said to be original in its set up, it is superbly observed in the manner it completely deconstructs and refocusses the vital components of the genre.

This is where Carnaghan and Neeson take the chance to get back on track, or more likely simply deliver a poignant call back to their initial, more objectively valuable work. Showing the tone and style of his finest work, Narc, Carnaghan here tones down his visual flair to suitably grimy effect, while also using the spine of the story to bring to the screen a film that is both a touching character study and a deeply sorrowful, emotionally resonant redemption tale.

While all about him goes to hell, Ottoway slowly adapts to his nightmare circumstance, using his personal trauma as the fuel to keep walking, and keep protecting his scared, witless flock. The demons that almost destroyed him are given physical manifestation by the merciless wolves, used in the film with a touch of dramatic license to both heighten the thrills and better emphasise The Grey's core there: finding meaning to one's internal struggle, giving it a name and fighting back, discovering the inner fire required to take battle and preserve one's own life.

At the start of the film, Ottoway is all set to kill himself, having come to the conclusion that his exitstence is meaningless, irredeemably empty and void. Ironically, he is stopped by a wolf's call, and in the disaster that follows uses the memory of his wife, once a weight on his weary shoulders, as a beckoning call to continue his journey. By film's end, he is willing to use everything at his disposal to keep going, to at least try to fight his way out.

In this, the casting of Neeson is inspired. While many actors would have happily brought beef and gusto to the role, the veteran Irishman has the natural authority and leadership qualities that make Ottoway the Alpha of the human pack, and also provides the film its soul. Hurt, downtrodden, having long given up on questioning his lonely and pointless life, Neeson displays a permanent emotional pain, one that stalks him with every step, but is buried deep and left to dwell while he exerts physical strength and will power to make escape a tangible, though tragically unobtainable target.

It is a powerhouse performance, multi-faceted, and one that dwarfs his back catalogue post-Schindler's List and makes a mockery of the disposable trash such as Taken and Unknown that had seemingly painted him into a niche corner. One scene in particular, in which Ottoway screams at God to intervene, to finally make his presence known and give him something, anything, to make going forward the decisive action, is both brilliantly apt and wonderfuly moving. By this point, his burden is so ferocious he questions what is worth his own actions.

The other characters, though side pieces in the common goal, are played with distinction by a cast of mostly obscure actors. Each player has distinct characteristics, decidedly human traits that, while not fully fleshed out, gives them individuality which dicatates their words, if not their unpredictable fates. Frank Grillo's Diaz, in particular, is superbly developed as a subplot, starting off as a cliche and then growing, his final scene both harrowing and affecting, the good in him coming out just as the light burns out.

The wolves, centre piece they provide, are deliberately exagerrated in both appearance and behaviour but don't come off as the villains of the piece, but merely as a representation of true peril. They act as they do, innate and not chosen, lethal and dangerous but ultimately just by their own nature, not by evil. When one character, in a pique of bloodthirsty rage, saws off the head of one of the animals for a trophy, it is a mostly empty gesture, an unneccesary surrender to regretable savagery. It is a glowing testament to the The Grey's message that the monsters of the piece are not the bad guys.

By bringing such opaque depth, much of it in saddening retrospect, Carnaghan here has accomplished brilliant work. While misled viewers may find themselves questioning an often slow and baleful piece, ultimately depressing, they fail to see the uplifting nature and journey at its core, one that transcends the survival thriller genre and uses it as a means to and end to tell a far more memorable, haunting story. In the darkest, deepest recesses of our world and in his own dark cloud laden life, John Ottoway finally finds a reason to once more go into the fray, to soldier on. For anyone who has ever questioned their existence, doubted themselves to continue, it is a profound, almost overwhelmingly positive message. Somewhere in our core, we can find the will to go on, even if because there is nothing else for it.

Sad, moving and highly thoughtful, The Grey is both a crowning achievemant for Joe Carnaghan, and a touching stage piece for Liam Neeson. A film rather than a movie, it easily surpasses the standard of common such fare in pursuit of something more meaningful, and finds it in the stark cold corner of our world, one beset by danger, but also self discovery and, ultimately, redemption. This is what the Grey is truly about.

Once more into the fray,
The last good fight I'll ever know,
To live and die on this day,
To live and die on this day...

9/10

Two Dragon Tattoo Girls - Comparing Incarnations

With David Fincher's re-adaptation of Steig Larsson's hugely popular The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo now available on DVD, after a hot cinematic release among fans and critics, it seems a good time to break down its elements, along with those of its 2009 predecesor by Niels Arden Oplev, and attempt to find the better film.

While naturally following the same basic storyline, each work differs in its interpretation of Larsson's posthumous legacy, meaning deviations both in plot and in character focus and development. And, of course, with the remake being a Fincher feature with an improved budget and a larger pool of talent and resources, there is the subject of objective quality.

It is also worth noting that, for all the mixed opinions and preferences, there is no suggestion that Fincher's effort is unnceccesary. Both films have seperate merits to be explored here.

Lets start with a murder...

The Main Plot - Finding Harriet's Killer

As stated, the main plot of both films is the same; disgraced journalist Mikael Blomkvist is hired by wealthy industrialist Henrik Vanger to solve the disappearance, presumed murder, of his niece Harriet more than forty years ago. In doing so, he finds that the killer is likely a member of the Vanger family, all of whom live on an isolated island in Northern Sweden. He is joined in his quest by Lisbeth Salander, a punk chick who has become familiar with Blomkvist after being paid to hack into his computer. The pair crack a code in Harriet's journal, discovering a connection to a series of murders dating from the 1940's to the 1960's.

Each film takes different takes of this blueprint, however. Oplev's original takes deviations from the source material with the intent of muscling up the relationship between Blomqvist and Salander (more on this later), which includes them working together more closely, and also by having Salander figuring out more of the key clues. A road trip to the scenes of old crimes throughout the country is undertaken by both as a dysfunctional partnership, building up a stronger bond.

Fincher's effort, meanwhile, has the pair working seperately for long stretches. Salander takes on the past murders more or less single handedly, while Blomqvist remains at the Vanger estate and researches his hosts' backgrounds and character. Similarly, the serial killer plot is somewhat sidelined, given less time to generate mystery, instead deployed pragmatically as a plot point to further explain/cloud the reasons for Harriet being killed in the first place.

Both adapations reach the same conclusion, in terms of finding the killer, and then in finding out the truth about Harriet. But while Oplev cranks up the shock and suspense by pitting Blomkvist into unknowing, mortal danger just as Salander discovers the truth, Fincher finds his way to this point with an anti-climax, not helped by a lack of prior time spent with the big bad, in which Blomqvist is fully aware of who the killer is as he is thrust into the jaws of probable death, and in fact reaches this conclusion before the distant (both literally and figuratively) Salander, who's discovery is now just a precursor to her hot footing back to home base for a rescue mission.

The closure to the Harriet case ends the same in both, but has different ways of getting there. While the original incorporated an incredibly fortutuous need for long distance flight to reach its goal, Fincher finds a more interesting and more natural compromise, involving switched identities which helps avoid the character of Harriet feeling too divorced from the film's dynamic.

Subplots - Libel, Lies & Family Ties

Greater contrast comes with the vareity in subplots and background events and machinations within the two pictures, with each incarnation going down very different roads. While the original picks up and mixes around the more core, emotional minor story arcs, the remake instead goes for a stylised loyalty to the book which sometimes casts the heroes as unlikeable, or questionable, and doesn't quite feed into the underlying subtext of the story which I'll touch upon later.

The dark cloud hanging over Blomqvist's head, in the shape of an upcoming stiny in jail, is markedly absent from the Fincher version, likely down to the confusion that the Swedish justice system's quirks may have caused within Western audiences (in the original, Blomqvist is able to carry out the case, then goes to prison at the end on the charges presented at the beginning). Instead, Blomqvist merely has his life savings drained because of a fine for his misdeeds, giving him a more mercenary motivation for working with Henrik Vanger. Notably, the family connection from the original is also shed, despite it providing a significant plot point in Oplev's version.

While the Swedish incarnation played down the role of Erika Berger, Blomqvist's co-editor on Millenium and vague love interest, the American release boosts it up, which in a strange turn gives Blomqvist a little less sympathy, while also removing the subtle hints at romance between the reporter and Cecillia. The presence of his teenage daughter is also brought in, a character dropped from the first adapation, and her main purpose is to unwittingly solve a puzzle for her father, a solution reached by Lisbeth in the first film. While this may stay true to the book, what was a moment of crowning character establishment in the original becomes a contrivance in the redo. The daughter's sudden appearance at Blomqvist's digs seems suitably random, gets little attention or time, and then simply provides an answer to a question that Mikael had been unable to break.

This also leads into a major difference which, although not immediately noticeable, has some ramifications on the tone. In the original, Blomkvist arrives at the Vanger estate and spends most of the duration there, apart from the cross-country roadtrip. This establishes a set location, and makes certain events, such as Blomqvist being shot at, more tense, since he previously believed he was on familiar ground. However, the remake sees him journeying away from the island, including a flight to London, and trips back to Stockholm. Not grounded, it takes away some of the idiosyncracies of the existence he leads while working on the case, and means we spend less time with the Vanger family than we probably should. 

Certain plot elements, mostly red herrings, that were dropped from the original are also retained here, including a retrospectively encounter with the estate's handyman, a subdued and strangely harmless meeting with the mad recluse, Gottfried Vanger (used as a dangerous game in the original), and the part played at the end by Lisbeth's hacker friends, which seems abrupt given the lack of an established relationship between them (Plague, in particular, who in the remake seems to simply be selling her equipment, while in the original is more of a half-friend). The lengethened interactions between Lisbeth and her pervert guardian are ill judged, almost making it seem as if she is dwelling on an old victory.


While the full throttle speed of Fincher's effort means it generates more adrenaline, it also leaves it dealing with scenes and exchanges that, in reality, could easily be ditched.

Themes - Men Who Hate Women & Personal Growth

As I touched upon in my review of Oplev's film, Dragon Tattoo in many ways is a well layered and thoughtfully constructed thriller that is simply a vehicle for some very taboo, very dark and disturbing themes that have a powerful impact and are resolved as the story is. The very fact that the source material novel's original title is 'The Men Who Hate Women' provides a glaring example of just how overshadowing the film's morals and subtext are.

These are themes, however, that are not touched upon to damaging effect in the second effort. Stephen Zallian's script, though highly competant, lacks the subtlety and amibuity of Nikolaj Arcel and Ramus Heisterberg's, which provides plenty of food for thought about Swedish subculture and the toxic, sexist attitudes of the past, best distilled in the form of the anti-women murders and by Lisbeth's treatment by certain male scumbags.

Indeed, the omission of these themes is felt most painfuly by the character of Salander, who also misses out on the sense of personal growth and learning that the first film granted her. The 2009 version provides an unexpected journey for her character, and she learns more from Blomqvist than he could ever know, finally finding a positive male role model, and hope that she can build on this in the future. The 2011 remake, which perhaps stretches on too far into the book's overwritten finale, doesn't provide this, and in fact leaves her cut off and alone, albeit with a far more healthy bank balance. Money, it seems, is closer to the heart of the remake than it probably should be.

Similarly, Blomqvist's romantic life in the remake is on par to bed hopping compared to his lonely, tortured and vulnerable incarnation in the original, and makes him far less admirable, thus less of a good influence, and certainly not somebody that a misanthrope could fall for. It rather bites the hand that feeds by having the male protagonist fully capable of carrying out and solving the investigation by himself, rendering Lisbeth little more than a makeweight to a speedier conclusion. In many ways, it also makes the title obsolete, since Lisbeth is no longer the crux or the pinnacle of the story, merely one of its more interesting characters.

The Nazi sympathiser background subplot, one of the many controversial aspects of both book and Oplev film, is also downplayed. While a mark of great shame for Swedes, it lacks much interest to Zallian's screenplay and to the remake's target audience in general, and were it not for its presence in the book, would feel thrown in as a means to avoid using the word 'evil' in regards to largely unexplored characters.

As I'll go into detail about in a moment, the sense of personal growth that both the original novel and the Oplev version enjoys is sorely lacking from Fincher's effort, which puts more emphasis on story than character development. In the source material, and the Swedish adapation, both Blomkvist and Lisbeth come out of the Harriet case having discovered something about themselves, and finding in it the strength to endure and to push on and fight back against their respective injustices. Redemption, in a certain guise, is prevalent. This simply isn't the case with the remake.

Salander & Blomqvist - Partners and More

In many ways, the core elements of Larsson's novel can be broken down into three vital components: The Harriet case, the under-lying subtext, and the Salander-Blomqvist relationship. Each are indispensable to the story and plot, and with any of them missing the soulful impact generated by the written words would be greatly diminished.

The main strength of Oplev's version is how it is able to balance the trio sums of part in such natural tandem, staying true to Larsson's vision even when moving away from his means. Without the themes, Girl With the Dragon Tattoo becomes a mystery thriller with a romance. Without the complex romance, it becomes pretty disposable. This is a bridge that Fincher's effort comes dangerously close to crossing.

As mentioned earlier, the two leads spend little time together, not even accounting for the fact that the film is well into its second act by the time they actually meet for the first time. There is little opportunity for the pair to bond, get to know each other, and develop a familiarity in the way that they do in the original. The duo solving the murders on the road is wonderful at strengthening their dynamic. Having them working away from each other, as in the remake, is a great way to avoid them even getting to know each other. It's for this reason that the sex scene between the two is both abrupt and, aesthetics aside, oddly empty and vacuous. While it came as a surprise in the first film, this was more down to the fact that Lisbeth's behaviour and manner suggested she would never consider such a thing. There was also something of the profound about her healing herself after her rape by allowing herself into the arms of Blomqvist, who she has grown to quietly like. Her approach in the remake strengthens the perception that she is simply messed up, something handled much more completely and sensitively in the Oplev version.
 Either that, or it screams of 'mandatory sex scene' time. 

As individuals, both characters suffer in the second film too. Blomqvist in the original is wounded after his trial, professional life destroyed, personal life ruined, confidence lost and soul damaged. Through the Harriet case, and his relationship with Lisbeth, he finds the fire to fight back, culminating in him ending the film with hope and passion, despite being incarcerated. He has rediscovered himself, and believes in himself and his crusade more than ever.
Meanwhile, Salander is similarly broken, but in a far more irrevocable way. Every man she's ever known has abused or mistreated her, she feels alien to the world, and her response is a resonant 'fuck you', both in her attitude, her outward appearance, and by the way she lives. She doesn't apologise for anything, simply takes what she can and gives nothing back. Life's shit, get a T-shirt. But through the investigation, and through knowing and finding a love for Blomqvist, she starts to believe things can be better for her, and that a more comfortable normalcy can be found after all. When she visits her dying mother, and speaks of finding someone, it shows she's starting to believe that, finally, she may just get a shot at something happier.
Both of the two find something in the other, and it makes them better.

Casualties of Adaptation: Blomqvist's bond with Lisbeth from the 2009 original is lost in the remake

These things are dropped like an anvil by the Fincher version, to its detriment. There is no real soul searching for Blomqvist, more stung than hurt, and he pursues his investigating out of personal curiosity more than anything else. Lisbeth already has a strong male bond in her life, in the form of a legal guardian who suffers a stroke, making Blomkvist's impact on her less tangible. Neither find much meaning from their work/fling, and, crucially, she is far more vulnerable than he, something which goes against the grain. Her attachment to the dogged journalist suddenly seems hopelessly out of character and childish, bordering on adolescent crush.

Worse still, the conclusion arrives at a needlessly long and detailed montage of Lisbeth's revenge for a friend mission, which drags on needlessly, despite the original's interpretation working superbly due to brevity, and making her all the more impressive by merely showing what she'd accomplished, not how she'd done it. The side effect of this is that we watch a young woman going to such trouble to help the man, only for her to go back at the end and find there's no real victory for her to be had. The downer ending isn't a problem in itself, but renders much of the story pointless in the process. The original was bright and optimistic in a bittersweet manner, which felt more natural to the two protagonists. The remake shows that nobody learned anything, and that the only real winner was Henrik Vanger, a character who, despite being likeable, is hardly someone we're that bothered about once the 2 1/2 hours are up.

As well as feeling shoe-horned, unnatural and ultimately meaningless, the Salander/Blomqvist bond is devalued by deconstructing its own dynamic, far from poignant.

Technicals - Acting, Music & Looks

One category that Fincher's version was always set to dominate is the technical field. With more money to spend, a far more widespread pool of actors to bring in, and his own flawless, unique eye for art, the Fight Club director was always going to make Dragon Tattoo look good. Swedish cinema's best export the original may be, but some people will always be bigger and better.

While the cinematography in the Oplev version may be gorgeous at times, particularly the snow swept Vanger Island, the visuals in Fincher's repose are startling, dark and grimy but beautiful and varied. While the original Blomqvist arrives on a still, white day, the remake has him departing his train in a snowstorm, a viscerally freezing and biting ambience. Using far darker tones, the art direction is both heavily stylised and wonderfuly adept at setting the tone. In this regard, it blows Oplev's version out of the water by providing mood simply from the picture.

It's helped by the work of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, who colloborated with Fincher so successfuly for The Social Network (picking up an Oscar in the process). While Jacob Groth's score for the original is expert and at times superb, it doesn't share the same sizzling intensity as the work provided by the Nine Inch Nails alumnus. A sense of dark, shadowy foreboding, bottled rage and benign violence permeates from every chord, giving the piece a sinister charge. While the opening credits sequence is as baffling as it is ultimately meaningless, the cover of Immigrant Song is both a brilliant piece of music and superlative in establishing the tone.

As you would expect given the aforementioned focus the remake bears, the remake's pacing is snappy and sharp, edited stylishly and crisply, as opposed to the more longing and patient cuts of the original. Frantic at times, this combined with the soundtrack makes the remake magma hot in its energy, barely giving the audience time to breathe. It is, however, one of the main reasons it is unable to deliver on an emotional level like the original does.

In the acting stakes, Fincher's work does some heavy lifting in promoting character performances from good to great, while matching Oplev's when unable to better it. Daniel Craig imbues the sense of ferocious drive that makes Blomqvist a successful investigative journalist, disgrace not withstanding, as well as looking the part. What he makes up in terms of authenticity and energy, however, is somewhat lost in terms of humanity and eccentric imperfection, a subtle character trait that Michael Nyqvist nailed so comprehesively in the original. He is great to watch, in a different manner, and is far more interesting in his reactions, perceptions and general sense of healing.

Plummer's performance provides a better rounded Henrik Vanger

 But it's not his role or perfomance which is of such interest to moviephiles, it is that of relative newcomer Rooney Mara as the iconic Lisbeth Salander. After all, Noomi Rapace utterly dominated the first film, and as a result exploded onto the International scene in this breakout, unforgetable role. She is utterly authentic as Lisbeth, matching her words and her mannerisms with an uncanny and natural performance. She wears her neo-Goth attire like a uniform, and her acid wit and dark heart on her sleeve.
For what's it's worth, Mara is superb in the role, a slightly different interpretation which feels real, valid and varied. She is never burdened by the weight of expectancy, and doesn't not allow Rapace to overshadow her work. While the remake's portrayal of Lisbeth is flawed, there is no fault on Mara's part.

Many of the other characters enjoy uprgrades too, with venerable powerhouse Christopher Plummer (a late replacement for Max Von Sydow) excellent as Henrik Vanger, a step above the workmanlike Sven Bertil-Taube, and actual Swede Stellan Skarsgard both erstwhile and amiable, then deeply sinister and creepy, as Martin Vanger, more faceted and interesting to watch than Peter Faber. There is also solid work from Joely Richardson, Robin Wright and Steven Berkoff, each actors who have rarely been seen in the limelight of late. One part, however, that the original still holds stronger stakes in is with Nils Bjurman, the perverted legal guardian. While Yorick van Wageningen is suitably dark and horrible, Peter Andersson of the Oplev version is far more authentic and less pantomine. The infamous rape scene, which Bjurman orchestrates, loses none of its impact in the remake, though is far more uncomfortable in the original due to the less cinematic pacing and build up.

In fact, this is the case with a number of the Fincher version's more notable scenes, when contrasted with how they were handled in the original. The villain reveal, in particular, is long and drawn out in the newer release, albeit with a nice endgame, while in the first it is sudden, shocking and more suspenseful. The loss of Lisbeth's personal connection to the event, and the off hand manner in which it is handled, is both jarring and almost insulting when compared to the Oplev version.

As a matter of course, the Fincher film has one distinct technical discrepency, and that is it having a script which simply lacks the depth and care that the first film was blessed with.

Summary - Findings & Ratings

Considering the parties involved, it shouldn't be a surprise that David Fincher's version of the great story is an absolute treat, a stunningly visceral and devilishly structure mystery thriller with an air of dark malice and sinister deeds, one that is well played out, flawlessly mounted and well executed. That it lacks the soul, wry as it may be, of most of his works isn't a hugely damaging loss when approaching the film as a standalone piece, which it easily serves as.

However, while Niels Oplev's piece may lack the cut and thrust of Fincher, a level of performance you shouldn't expect of any director, it does hold dear to its heart a character driven, character focussed, character dictated arc, and though it may not stay fully faithful to the events of Steig Larsson's book, it lovingly sticks true to its intentions and its meaning. Watching the remake, I couldn't but imagine Fincher simply being in charge of the original script, with a few components brought over too. While excellent as a film, the new version falls short of the greatness of the original by ignoring what made it so satisfying, layered and intelligent.

While by no means a disrespectful remake, and certainly a film that exceeds its predecesor in certain areas, the Fincher version skimps on the heart of the material and goes for the jugular instead, creating a piece of startling entertainment without emotion, a top notch thriller that loses the drama.

In short, the 2011 incarnation is a worthy flick, but not a grand story. The 2009 version, however, is this, and more. You may enjoy the remake more, but you're love for the original will be greater.


The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2009)                    9/10


The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2011)                    8/10

Half Pint Reviews: Session 9 & Felon

Having seemingly reaquainted myself with the taste of reviewing the little known, I've decided to come back with another dose today, again putting myself onto the perch of hidden gem discoverer, an identity somewhere between a cinema-fiend Indy and arseholic magpie.

Once again, I've gone down the obscure path and picked out a couple of B-movies, one a direct to DVD prison drama outdoing its standing, the other a low budget, astute psychological thriller disguised as an ostensible horror flick.

First up is the latter, Session 9...

Session 9

Something of an oddball outing from The Machinist director Brad Anderson, Session 9 follows the week from hell endured by an asbestos crew hired to clear out an abandoned mental hospital. Overly stressed by financial obligations and a baby daughter at home, team leader Gordon (Peter Mullan) brings in a motley crew already strained by internal divides.

Disillusioned right hand man Phil (David Caruso....yyyeeeeeaaaahhh!!!) is at loggerheads with arrogant slacker Hank (Josh Lucas) after the latter stole his girlfriend, intellectual Mike (co-writer Stephen Gevedon) is pining for a return to law school, and newcomer Jeff (Brendan Sexton III) is an unruly youth with a phobia of the dark.

Creeped out by their ominous surroundings, the group begin to fracture as behaviour becomes strange and inexplicable. Gordon's home life reaches boiling point after an altercation with his wife, Mike becomes obssessed with a series of recordings featuring a former patient, and Hank's discovery of a set of valuable old coins precedes his abrupt disappearance. Tempers fly as paranoia becomes rampant and mystery grows, and still there's a tough deadline to meet.

The first thing that will strike anyone about Session 9 is its format, filmed in digital rather than film, which gives the movie a strangely intimate visual style, one that, while initially distracting, later plays into the heavy aptmosphere that the film generates as it picks up speedy, breathless momentum while heading towards the end of the second act. This, combined with filming taking place at the untouched, actual Danvers Mental Hospital in Massachusetts, gives the piece an immediately creepy vibe, one that plays with the concept of standard horror fare but in a flirty, suggestive manner which doesn't commit.

While some moments come off as inexplicably, almost comically, amateur, these asides are part of Session 9's charm, and make the story more disturbing in retrospect. An incredibly obvious use of stock audio in one pivotal moment seems silly at first, but when thought back on gives it a strange sinister quality. The acting is a mixed bag, springing into life at key points, but occasionally veering into ridiculous, sending the viewer into a state of uncertainty. Peter Mullan, in his first role in an American film, is outstanding throughout, a hard pressed and subtle performance in keeping with the film's shock ending. It is a conclusion that, while hinting at a certain ambiguity, is both refreshing and harrowing, putting a novel spin on the set up that seemed to suggest demons and spirits.

While Session 9 may disappoint scare junkies looking for monsters and set pieces, or perhaps scare off sceptical viewers with its unconventional approach, it is a film which builds a tone and feel both engrossing and hearting pumping, though only after a while. Well worth a watch.

8/10 

Felon

A hard hitting, bloody knuckled effort from former stuntman Ric Roman Waugh, 2008's Felon takes a warts and all glimpse at the inside of the New Mexico penal system as it follows the travails of an unfairly convicted family man forced to shed his self and soul to survive.

After accidentally killing a man robbing his home, husband and father Wade Porter (Stephen Dorff) takes a plea bargain including a relatively brief three years in maximum security prison. But even before he has arrived, he is thrust into the middle of a murder, and his silence, intended to keep him safe from a neo-Nazi faction within the facility, leads to further punishment. Fully intending to hold onto his identity and simply work through his time, Wade quickly discovers that adapting to his new envirnoment means partaking in the blood feuds between the gangs, culminating in a series of orchestrated fights between the prisoners, overseen by the wing's sadistic marshal, Lieutenant Jackson (Harold Perrineau).

As he grows unrecognisable to his family, and faces the prospect of his sentence being lengthened, he turns to help, both moral and substantial, from his cellmate, the legendary inmate and intellectual multiple murderer John Smith (Val Kilmer), a complex and unpredicatable con who has long since abandoned the ideals that Wade holds dear. Pushed into a corner, Wade finally finds a way to fight back against his antagonists, a risky plot that could well secure his freedom, if it doesn't kill him.

For all intensive purposes, Felon sounds like C-grade fare with all the cliched bells attached, albeit with a decent cast. But where it differs from normal such tripe is in its unapologetic authenticity, particularly in its treatment of prison politics, as well as a mature and well played sense of character development and respect for the film's players. Rather than go down the easy route, Felon highlights the segretated gang culture within the prisoners' world, and also the far from liberal attitudes and approaches of their keepers. The big bad of the story is a prison guard, and even he is portrayed as a challenging anti-villain, a loving father and friendly face outside of work but a monster inside of it.

It is also strengethed by two powerful central performances, from Dorff, inpecible in his journey from innocent to guilty man, a fresh meat slab into a respected threat, and from Kilmer, who's acting renaissance continues, albeit unnoticed. His mannered and caring portrayal of Smith is both one of the film's most memorable aspects, and one of its most intelligent strengths. There is further good work from Perrineau, a good man allowing his rage and venom to run amok while tending his charges, and from Marisol Nichols as Wade's emotionally tortured and conflicted wife. There are also well appreciated cameos from character actors Anne Archer and Sam Shepard.

Taking care of its protagonists and those who matter, while imbuing the film with a blunt realism both compelling and convincing, Felon defies all signs and becomes an emotionally powerful film that asks ugly questions of its audience, and comes out into the light by film's end. A B movie better than the majority of As.

8/10

Half Pint Reviews - The Jacket & Wonderland

Returning to a long absent format here, half-pint reviews is intended as a slimmed down, back to basics approach to analysing and providing a recon report on two films instead of one.

I've put the spotlight on two surprisingly obscure Hollywood efforts of varying genre and tone, both of which have, for the most part, slipped between the cracks in the pavement of attention, but both of which bear well their own merits and are worth a look in.

First up, John Maybury's psychological mystery drama, The Jacket.

The Jacket

Traumatised Gulf War veteran Jack Starks (Adrien Brody) lives his life as a drifter after being discharged, a listless existence that culminates in him blacking out while hitch hiking. Upon awaking, a police officer is dead and Starks is presumably responsible, though he cannot recall the incident. Deciding that he is clearly not psychologically fit for trial, the court finds him not guilty by insanity, and he is sent to a psychiatric hospital for dangerous criminals. Here, he is subjected to a covert, experimental treatment by resident chief Dr. Becker (Kris Kristofferson), in which he is bound by a straight jacket (hence the title) and placed in a morgue drawer. Initially appearing to be a form of torture, Starks slowly begins to suffer a series of psychedelic visions, which grow from flashbacks into outer-body experiences.

In this 'second life', Starks finds himself fifteen years in the future, with no explanation for how he arrived at an off road diner on Christmas Eve. He meets and befriends an emotionally dissonant young woman (Keira Knightley), who takes him in, only to find that they have an impossible, mind bending previous connection. Worse still, Starks then learns that he is due to die within the next few days of his 'present' timeline. Switching back and forther between the past and the future, Starks works to discover how he dies, in order to prevent it, and come to understand his unique situation.

Although marketed as a Jacob's Ladder style thriller, The Jacket in actual fact is an emotional journey and love story at heart, with it's in-universe mythology regarding time travel simply a plot device rather than the plot itself. The mystery angle, trying to piece together the soon to come death of Starks in an effort to stop it, acts as a MacGuffin for a familiar, if logical and satisfying, conlusion.

While the concept and story behind the film is a solid one, it doesn't quite reach it's attempted standard as a result of time keeping. While each of the plot strands are well thought out, they are not given nearly enough exposure or growth to be as effective as they could be, and there's a real sense that a significant portion of the script was left out for pragmatic reasons, putting the film in the category of good rather than great, and viewers expecting a rounded wrap up will be disappointed. The core love story, while nice, falls short of impactful, while a number of supporting characters are built up to seem significant, but are then left without closure or, in a couple of cases, purpose.

With the help of a dose of method acting in the morgue drawer scenes, Brody gives a strong leading perfomance as the dishevelled and confused Starks, vulnerable yet bearing a hard edge, consistent with an embittered veteran. Keira Knightley, complete with American accent, displays a seldom seen talent for characterisation as another lost soul in the story's melancholy, while there is an excellent chameleon turn from fellow Brit Daniel Craig as a mental patient, and solid work by Jennifer Jason Leigh and Kelly Lynch. Kristofferson seems miscast, a grizzled old timer doc more befitting to a Western.

Though it has the potential to be meaningful, The Jacket ultimately feels half done due to a lack of time spent with the characters, and loses points for combining this with a lack of care for its fundamental deus ex machina, a combination which means that, although it is highly enjoyable, it never becomes more.

7/10

Wonderland

A breakneck, morally retiscent powerhouse effort from Director/Co-Writer James Cox, 2003's Wonderland is a blood soaked, opinion swaying attempt to piece together the infamous murders of the same name in LA's Laurel Canyon, circa 1981, and the part played by a minor celebrity and retrospective legend at the heart of it all.

The first genuine porn star, John Holmes (Val Kilmer) is now a washed up, chemically dependant wreck, living off his reputation to score off anyone willing to give him the time of day, barely able to take care of his much younger lover (Kate Bosworth). When four of his associates are brutally murdered in their Wonderland home, Holmes is immediately implicated by one of the other 'surviviors' of the circle, heroin addict biker David Lind (an unrecocognisable Dylan McDermott). The cops then attempt to make sense of the situation, with Lind and then Holmes giving differing versions of the truth, in which the now dead gang orchestrated a home invasion and robbery on millionaire nightclub owner Eddie Nash (Eric Bogosian), indicating that the killings were a revenge mission.

Ambitious in its efforts to shed light on a famous old Hollywood case, Cox's sweltering take on the saga serves as a compelling, appropriately unresolved drama that stays true to the facts and takes a withdrawn, non-judgemental stance on the real men and women involved. Built on the lack of clarity provided by the police investigation as a means to bring a degree of mystery to the story, it manages to distract the viewer from the fact that there will be no black and white conclusion, an impressive achievement considering its factual roots.

Leading the line as Holmes, a public figure who's tragic, self destructive existence has become more fascinating since his death, Val Kilmer provides another healthy reminder of his talents, bringing a lost boy quality to the debauched and sordid protagnoist, a shattered ego and bruised soul fighting to retain some control of the chaos he lives in. It is a deeply ingrained, complex performance and one that, in a bigger feature, could have provoked Oscar talk.

The ensemble behind him are also uniformly good, with Bosworth showing real nous as Dawn Schiller, a damaged and dependant little girl in an abused young woman's body, holding an unconditional love for the man who is emotionally damaging to her. Eric Bogosian nails Eddie Nash, an authentic and entertaining performance, while the prior mentioned McDermott impresses as the shady Lind, Josh Lucas puts an interesting spin on his traditional handsome asshole routine, and Lisa Kudrow brings an appropriately wearied, mothering quality to Holmes' ex-wife, a woman still playing a dominant role in his life.

While it can be seeing as simply bringing some exposure to an old legend, Wonderland works very well as a drama/thriller outside the restraints of its 'based on a true story' moniker, delivering a thoughtful, anarachic and well paced story, and proving an excellent, underrated slice of life.


8/10

The Dark House - Film Review

Truth? There is no such thing.

A morally distant and oddball outing from writer/director Wojciech Smarzoswki, The Dark House (Dom Zly) is a story piecing together a strange episode at a rural farmhouse and the disorganised investigation that follows.

Following the sudden death of his wife and the emotional breakdown in it's aftermath, zootechnician and heavy drinker Edek 'Edward' Srodon (Arkadiusz Jakubik) takes up a position at a state owned farm in the countryside, after selling all of his possessions in an effort to restart his life. En route to this new job, Edek winds up at another farm, owned by Zdzislaw (Marian Dziedal) and Bozena (Kinga Preis), and spends the night. Over the following few days, he strikes up a strong bond with them, particularly the troubled Zdizislaw, as he stays on a little longer. After concoting a scheme to brew and sell homemade moonshine, the two are on the cusp of becoming business partners. Until something goes horribly wrong.

Intercut with these scenes is the 'present', some time later. It is midwinter, and the very same farm is a crime scene, manned by a newly arrived team of People's Militia officers, led by Lieutenant Mroz (Gary Oldman lookalike Bartlomiej Topa). Along for the ride are a legal prosecutor, a pregnant wife and colleague husband team (evoking memories of Fargo, much like the snowcapped pastures), and a shady and politically minded superior keeping a close eye on both the case and Mroz, in a murky case of dirt digging and potential conspiracy. Add to that them bringing along a freshly shaven Edek, so he can recount the events that led to an immolated barn and three corpses. Things are far from simple, as the blurb suggests.

While the material itself sounds hard boiled and edgy on paper, one of the pillars of Smarzowski's interpretation is a quirky and occasionally inappropriate edge of dark humour, adding to the previously mentioned Coen Brothers influences. While the sharp bite of subtext allows plenty of jabs at the communist era engulfing 1970's Poland, it is little more than a backdrop and serves up red herrings rather than proving deeply relevant to the winding, chaotic story. If anything, more stock is put into the weakness and stupidity of the characters and, by extension, of people in general. Numerous funny background events give the film an emotion debt, while the constant heavy drinking of almost every player in the plot clues in to a epidemic still relevant.

Although he cleverly plays around with callbacks and Chekhov's Guns, one of the problems that Smarzowski runs into is tone displacement. The film starts at the beginning, with Edek narrating and introducing himself, and the background that led him to the titular farmhouse. It seems to be a personal journey film, one that cuts between time periods in explaining the events of the past and the consequences felt in the present. However, once the later period is established, we find that Edek is no longer the main character. While he may drive the flashbacks, it is Mroz who takes centre stage during the investigation, even allowing the chance to delve into some ultimately spurious subplots which don't match up to the mood of Edek's experiences.

While the farmhouse based plotline, with Edek growing familiar with his surroundings and new housemates, provide a gleeful dysfunction that levens the story, the crime scene segments contain anarchic comedy in a serious context, almost like a travelling circus moving through a warzone. It seems that each of the officers are ill-disciplined drunks, with no real care for their work, and no sense of professionalism. The honesty and authenticity of this is debatable, to put it mildly, but there is a jarring sense of weirdness about watching the overwhelmed Edek trying to retrace his steps through the dark house while trying to ignore the ridiculous behaviour of his captors.

Giving a few laughs and some nice cinematic touches, Smarzowski is indeed an intelligent filmmaker, and knows a good story. But for every step The Dark House takes towards excellence, it muddles the next, and ends up being bogged down by various clashes in approach and style, emerging as a mix between a comedy that's too serious, and a drama that's too comedic. While this makes for entertaining viewing, it doesn't make for engrossing cinema.

Overall, an enjoyable eccentric film, with much to enjoy, but one clearly conflicted and held back by it's inability to decide exactly what it is, and why.


7/10

Californication: Season 5 Review

On Sunday 1st April, Californication's fifth season came to an end on a cliffhanger and amidst fairly mixed messages, both from the show itself and directed at it from fans.

A chapter of the "sexiest show on TV" that rehashed the tiring boy chases girl format, at least for a brief while, saw a new, almost Zen like Hank trapse back into his old life in the Golden State in a new, truly haphazard series of adventures that has left many loyal viewers to question series creator Tom Kapinos's ability to hold his shit together. And with good reason. Let's recap...

From New York, New Hank

Season 5 starts a couple of years after the events of the Season 4 finale, which saw Hank driving into the sunset, having finally it seemed let go of the hold Karen had on his life and path. Now, Henry Moody Jnr. is back in the promised land, NYC, set up with a nice apartment, a fairly crazed significant other and a new bestseller on the shelves, paradoxically named 'Californication' and presenting a fictionalised account of his years on the West Coast.
However, the call comes and Hank makes his return to LA for business, bringing him back into the circle of dysfunctional, downright debaucherous life in the City of Angels.

Charlie, erstwhile agent and best friend, is still agenting it up, and still very much dedicated to his 'bedding 100 women' pledge. In fact, single life has turned him into a rather depraved and sex obssessed figure with creepy connotations. Despite this, he is sharing the responsibility of raising the now born, now troublesome Runkle spawn (Stuart, a boy named for his step father). Marcy is shacked up with now husband Stu Beggs, and seems to have shaken off any kind of responsibility in the process.

Most significantly, Karen and Becca are once again found incased behind the white picket fence of fixed family life, this time literally. Karen is married to Richard Bates (last seen off the wagon in Season 3), an arrangement that seems to be a happy one for all concerned. The Becca is now at college and dating a young man named Tyler, who is described as a "young Hank".

Although he claims to just be dropping by for a visit, motivated by a screenwriting opportunity to pen a movie vehicle for rap superstar Samurai Apocalypse, the return becomes permanent when Hank's unhinged girlfriend burns down to his Big Apple home, leaving him marooned on Runkle's couch, and destined to get caught up in the shenanigans to follow. Amongst the action is a dangerous dalliance with singer Kali on the flight over, a girl who later turns out to be Samurai's sweetness, and the unexpected visit of Carrie, the arsonist ex. Cue the antics.

Fresh Faces, Familiar Stories

Naturally, Season 5 attempts to add some new elements and play with the unseen hiatus between ...And Justice For All and JFK to LAX. As well as the aforementioned new circumstances, a few minor characters have also found themselves dropped for conveniance sake.

Despite appearing to be a positive figure, a love interest for Karen that Hank could actually respect, Michael Ealy's Ben has been put on a bus, along with daughter Pearl. Becca, immersed in a rock band previously, no longer seems to house any musical ambitions. This opens the door for Bates, an interesting character played by Jason Beghe who essentially out-Hanks Hank at every turn. The only previous connection between Karen and Bates, however, was that they slept together while Bates was her college teacher, raising some significant questions about the age gap. Similarly, Karen's logic in finding someone much wilder than Hank to be her new Hank is devoid of sense.

He is one of six major recurring characters during the season, one of two retained from Californication's back catalogue (the other being Stu). While well played and enjoying some great scenes and dynamics with the other players, he is sadly exploited within the story. As soon as he gets put back on the sauce as a prank, and indulges in his 'mangina' bit, it's clear his deployment was to give Hank a quicker route back at Karen.

The others who come back for more suffer from similar problems. Kali starts off as an interesting character, well developed and with a clear voice, but a clear issue develops upon the Samurai interest. Hank's position in the 'don't tell anyone about us' set up, started by an unknowning hook up and with the constant threat of exposure and punishment, is worryingly similar to the Hank-Mia relationship in Season 1. To make matters worse, after 'Love Song', the Season's obligatory flashback episode (one of the most even episodes of the run), she all but disappears from the plot, both in terms of screen time and personality. Her few appearances are designed to create trouble elsewhere, with actions horribly out of character.

Samurai Apocalypse, or Sam for short, starts out as charismatic and interesting, with great chemistry with Hank, but quickly fades as his dialogue and plot path becomes repetitive and predictable, and he too is exploited to cause tension and build up to the endgame. RZA plays the part well, but is sold short by a lack of interest in the writer's room (an increasingly desolate place, as I'll touch upon later).

Meanwhile, there is the matter of Tyler. Hyped as the 'younger, hotter Hank', he is played as a precocious and arrogant youngster who lacks that one key element of Hank that makes him so amiable: charm. While he is constatly referred to be the aforementioned moniker, any actual evidence that he is like our hero in any sense is apparently left to fold out offscreen, and his immoral attributes and deplorable behaviour makes the rose tinted treatment of him by everyone other than Hank (and Bates) painful to watch. He turns out to be a writer, an excellent one with a ferocious screenplay that becomes a major story point, and this turn is seized upon and throttled speedily, to the detriment of the idea, and sees the boy become a major Hollywood screenwriter overnight.

Stu Beggs, played by the accomplished film and TV character actor Stephen Tobolowsky, transforms from eccentric but hardline producer into a preening, shouting caricature this year, taken to bouts of over acting and obssession with sex. The entire Runkle clan, in fact, becomes a hideous mess of psychotic behaviour, perverse sex games and apathetic distress, with the kid ignored for long stretches both on and off screen. Lizzie, a young English nanny, is brought in with aspirations of Hollywood, and sets about bleeding Charlie dry in painful fashion.

Stupidity & The Single Men

The wacky plot developments in the season are offset by a recurring and negative theme, and those that do work are usually mishandled. While Californication previously had crazy moments and ridiculous situations, they worked within the story and had some singularity of purpose as well as high laugher inducement. However, 5 doesn't quite tap this.

Well played incidents, such as Sam, Hank and Charlie hijacking a police ride along, are spoiled by the lack of reprecussion for law breaking in the next episode. This is particularly jarring considering that Hank is possibly still on probation. Other misdemeanours aim for stupid and funny, but wind up being over the top and pointless. Tyler's mother, her book of penises and lesbian life partner served no purpose within the greater scheme of things, and is the whole interaction is disposable in that it never has any significant effect on the characters.

Later on, Hank is suddenly revealed to be a huge fan of a legendary, Werner Herzog inspired German film Director, who turns out to be a stereotypical Deutsch monster who provokes Hank's chivalrous knight schtick and gets punched. This entire light on its feet segment is singularly devoid of point or wit, only bringing a smile but the quick cameo provided by Beatrice Trixy, Hank's occasional soul mate hooker. Drea De Matteo, once of The Sopranos, appears in a one episode role as a stripper so utterly incapable of interacting with normal people that it's mind boggling.

This is one of the biggest problems the season suffers. One of the charms of the show in the past has been the intricate balance in plotting, which has allowed surreal situations to occur within the story's folds, blips of action within the canvas of events. In Season 5, the situations are simply ridiculous, camp and tripe, and have no bearing on anything. It's a symptom of poor and lazy planning in developing of the episodes, and a lack of narrative focus.

In fact, the suspicion emerges that the show's popularity for it's ludicrous encounters has affected the priorities within its production. So these strange comings together are pushed to the forefront, and the ridiculousness is pumped up to 11, resulting in stupid instead of silly.

Also apparent is desperation, with by-products including a meangingless cameo by Rob Lowe's psychotic method actor Eddie Nero, complete with warped dialogue and frantic, awkward mannerisms. One of the most popular new faces in Season 4, here Nero is wheeled out as a basket case.

Familiar Faces, Different Voices

However, the most stark and disappointing failing of the Season is the 'development' of the main characters, our merry band of five who have spent four years moving forwards, backwards and sideways in an understandable, characteristic, if not fucked up, manner.

Much criticism has been aimed at Karen and Becca's portrayal this year, and these arguments have been mostly valid. When the pair need to be stupid to suit the show's needs, they become so. An egregious example of this occurs in the episode 'Here I Go Again', when Hank takes the fall for another character's failing and is verbally demolished by his two ladies. Tyler, the interloper, quickly deduces what is truly going on, and even attempts to step in, while the two women who know Hank better than anyone fail to spot the blindingly obvious. It seems, at this point, that the pair are champing at the bit, waiting for an excuse to tear into him. This whole scene is later rendered meaningless when it is revealed through exposition that Karen found out what really happened, and now is sweet on him again.

But it goes deeper, and gets much worse, than this. For starters, Becca serves no fuction other than occasionally hating Hank and constantly serving as Tyler's one man personal army, despite the shit he puts her through. Her lines lack the spark of young Becca, instead relying on spike and poorly thought out snarkiness.

Crucially, though, Karen no longer sounds or acts like Karen. Lover her or hate her, she was consistent for the previous four seasons, with a clear voice. Her dialogue was distinctive and personal, her motives in keeping with her personality, attitude and experiences. She was a fully coloured, filled out character, after patient and thoughtful development and care. In Season 5, she sways and swings as if bi-polar, the words not matching. At times, it's hard not to see her as a role played by Natasha McElhone, rather than as Karen.

The Runkles are also badly affected. Marcy has mutated from fiesty, loveably crude cougar-smurf into a selfish, vacuous and humourless house troll, and also shows signs of her self in two episodes (one of which is the finale), while Charlie's increasingly over-emotional and over exaggerated nuances bare the hallmarks of cruel impersonation. His sexual escapades and obssession also make him come across as a pervert, something the show has always managed to stay away from. There is also a lack of good camaraderie and banter with Hank, a staple of earlier times.

Ironically, Hank himself is also a changed man, but this time for the better. He is more often than not the responsible one, and much of his pursuits are moral and caring. The self-loathing and self-destructiveness which always landed him in the pits has gone, as has his childish neediness and recklessness. Despite this sounding like a deconstruction of the character, it works very well, a breath of fresh air which suits the tone of moving on. He has grown up. And, interesting to note, he beds comparitively few women this time round. Rather than trying to disrupt Karen's household, he goes to great lengths to protect it.

The Flaws & The Future

One potential explanation for the failings of Season 5 can be found by trawling through credit listings, savouring in details. Namely, the work load taken on by one Tom Kapinos.

Of the run's 12 episodes, half were written solo by Kapinos, including the final four. Among those are At the Movies and Pervents & Whores, two of the most uneven half hours. Each of the other six episodes were also written by the showrunner, albeit along with another scripter.

Though the man devised the entire show, writing the first season as a film originally, it is clear that Hank's creator was running desperately short of inspiration at times. Much of the time spent resembles an artist trying to recreate their best work, and overshooting, instead drawing a lampoon. When even unapologetically daft material becomes boring, it's a sign that there is a lack of heart in the design, and this perhaps best sums up the Season. Too many episodes come off as first draft scripts badly in need of touching up, and while Seasons 1 and 2 were intracite and precise, perfectly balanced and weighed up, Season 5 feels rushed. It even fails to top 3 and 4 in terms of comedy.

Despite having played the character down to a tee for years now, Evan Handler's performances as Charlie this year did not help the show, perhaps down to the direction he was handed. Many lines are delivered with hammy glee and eye bulging energy reminiscent of a crack addict attempting to appear sober, and too much emphasis in one sentence undoubtedly makes anyone sound like a retard. As mentioned before, Stephen Tobolowsky suffers from a similar trait, while Madeleine Martin's handing of Becca seems less adept than it did when she was 13. The fact that each of these acting critiques can be reasonably put down to writing is a horrendous indictment.

The finale, a Season 2 esque wrap up display with Hank doing the good thing and marshalling everything and everyone together, comes off as half good and half bad rather than simply average, due to the displaced realism that has become common (to be clear, one of the show's characters breaks the law in a serious manner twice, both for undoubted crimes that would lead to serious jail time, and walks away without any question of punishment) and the uncharacteristic behaviour of the main protagonists. It does, however, have a punch to the gut in its conclusion, one that deflates the happy ending. A mood whiplash, this moment has significant ties to the Season's opening, and has a bitter logic more inkeeping with the show's early days.

It also sets up a cliffhanger for the already announced Season 6, with much in the balance. Where Californication can go next remains to be seen, and if the next run will prove to be the last, its final destination may be predictable, but the final leg of the journey surely won't be.

Lets just hope that the route is planned out in significantly more detail beforehand, since the wave of mediocre storytelling that hit Season 5 does not bode well. It is, though, rather reassuring that a bellow par Californication is still significantly better than most other shows. With clear direction, however, perhaps Hank will get what he always wanted, and in convincing manner. Here's hoping.

Best and Worst of 5

Best Episode: The Ride Along

Worst Episode: At the Movies

Best Performance: David Duchovny (Love Song)

Worst Performance: Stephen Tobolowsky (The Party)

Best Moment: Hank vs Tyler (The Party)

Worst Moment: Lars and the hookers (At the Movies)


Overall Season Rating: 7/10

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