Welcome to JoeBakerReviews.com

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Hello, my name is Joe Baker. In addition to working as a freelance filmmaker, screenwriter, graphic designer, videographer and photographer in Nottinghamshire, I am also a passionate film fanatic/film critic and have been ever since I first stumbled across cinematic classics like Alien, Jaws and Jurassic Park during my younger days. I’ve always been obsessed with the filmmaking craft and the true wonders of storytelling, with those interests only growing over time. 

Thus, I decided to create this website to share my various thoughts and opinions with other film fanatics around the world through a variety of content. So, feel free to explore and remember that you can keep up-to-date with the site via an email subscription or my social media pages as I post new content weekly. The latest post is listed below.

Welcome to Marwen (2018) – Film Review

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“I Was a Hell of a Good Artist, an Illustrator. I Loved to Draw, and Now, I Can Barely Write My Name…” – Mark Hogancamp

Co-written and directed by Robert Zemeckis (Back to the Future, Forrest Gump, Cast Away), Welcome to Marwen, released in 2018, is a dramatisation of the 2010 documentary; Marwencol, which recounted the true story of Mark Hogancamp, who, on April 8th, 2000, was brutally assaulted by five men who beat him almost to death, thrusting Mark into a nine-day coma and a forty-day hospitalisation period before he was discharged, woefully bearing severe brain damage that left him with little memory of his past life. Welcome to Marwen takes the tragic story of Mark Hogancamp and aims to provide it with a tint of optimism, romance and fantasy through its unique storytelling approach and dazzling visual effects. Yet, the film ultimately falls flat due to its confused tone and graceless screenplay, making Zemeckis’ invitation to enter the village of Marwen a leisurely one to decline. 

Plot Summary: After being ruthlessly assaulted by five men who left him for dead outside a bar in Kingston, New York State, yielding severe memory loss and trauma. Aspiring artist, Mark Hogancamp, constructs a remarkable therapeutic outlet on his property known as Marwen, a miniature World War II-era Belgium village compromised of period-dressed dolls. But, when Mark is requested to attend the court hearing of the men who mutilated him, his anguish returns to torment him…

Mark Hogancamp, the real individual upon whom the film is based, suffered injuries on every part of his body following the assault, subsequently placing him into a coma for nine straight days. As a result, most of the memories of his life before the assault were virtually extinguished, and the limitations of his health insurance prevented his continued rehabilitation. Sadly, only three of his assailants ever went to prison, with all three getting released within two years. Welcome to Marwen ignores many of these bleak details and outcomes, however, instead attempting to lace the story with more sanguinity and merriment as the film plays out over two planes; Mark’s plane of existence (our own) and that of the dolls, who, are enlivened via CGI in a fashion that could be described, as a more photo-realistic version of Toy Story (1995). It’s an admirable method of trying to infuse Mark’s despairing reflection of his assault with a dash of imagination and humour, but it’s predominantly an unsuccessful one, as this approach renders the film immensely inconsistent in terms of its pacing, tone and authenticity to the actual account of Mark’s horrific assault.

In a somewhat bizarre casting choice, Mark Hogancamp is portrayed by Steve Carell, who, whilst not awful, by any means, feels as if he lacks the acting aptitude required to depict Mark’s agonising trauma and isolation. But, Carrell does (of course) prevail with the more comedic moments, even if the gags themselves generally flop as Capt. Hogie (Mark’s gallant, plastic alter-ego) has a plethora of oddly placed witticisms. The supporting cast of Merritt Wever, Diane Kruger, Janelle Monáe, Eiza González and Gwendoline Christie all deliver passable performances (barring Christie’s overbearing Russian accent) yet possess little characterisation as the so-called; Women of Marwen, dolls that populate the tiny, make-believe village of Marwen, inspired by the powerful women Mark knows in his real life. Leslie Mann also makes an appearance in the film as Mark’s friendly, inexplicably curious neighbour, Nicol, who eventually becomes an object of affection for Mark in both his worlds, which occasionally comes across as rather uncomfortable as Mark lives out some of his romantic fantasies with Nicol through his dolls. 

Despite spending almost half of the runtime in the imaginary village of Marwen, Mark’s fantasies of himself and his female companions as heroes of the Second World War are often short on memorable shots. Lacking stimulating action sequences or grand set pieces to truly justify how much screen-time is spent in the village of Marwen, the rarely inventive cinematography by C. Kim Miles makes the scenes of the dolls socialising or firing at Nazis relatively visually flat, that is, barring the well-rendered visual effects.

On the more positive side of things, the original score by Alan Silvestri is equally adventurous and diverse, with tracks such as Magic, You Got This, Beautiful Moon and Marwencol, all harmoniously balancing sorrow, yearning and genuine tension while featuring a snare drum to further play into the World War II setting of Marwen. The score also includes some auditory references to Zemeckis’ earlier filmography, including a callback to the signature motif of the Back to the Future trilogy.

Nevertheless, the finest aspect of Welcome to Marwen is, by far, its CG effects, which brilliantly utilise motion capture to employ the faces and body movements of its cast onto plastic figurines clothed in World War II-era outfits/uniforms. As such, every scene within Mark’s fantasy world oozes with detail and toy-related visual gags, even if the animation of the dolls periodically appears overly fluid compared to the somewhat rigid reality of poseable figurines.

In summary, the current stage of Zemeckis’ career has long been repressed by his obsession with visual effects, repeatedly concentrating on style over substance. Welcome to Marwen is no exception to this rule, with the numerous sequences set within Mark’s fictitious world being the film’s most enjoyable moments. Thus, Welcome to Marwen fails to flourish as a wonderous, period-set adventure or a rumination of violent hate crimes and personal trauma, merely existing as a creatively ambitious misfire. Rating: low 5/10.

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Deepwater Horizon (2016) – Film Review

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“I’d Think You Money-Hungry Sons of Bitches Would at Least Be Good at Math…” – Mike Williams

The Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill, commonly referred to as the BP Oil Spill, is, to this day, regarded as one of the widest-reaching environmental disasters in human history. An industrial catastrophe that began on April 20th, 2010, off the coast of the United States in the Gulf of Mexico, the event caused the deaths of eleven oilfield workers and was estimated to have spilt over two hundred and ten million gallons of oil into the ocean, forcing industry giant BP to pay more than $60 billion in criminal and civil penalties, natural resource damages, economic claims and cleanup costs for their reckless corporate culture of cost-cutting and excessive risk-taking. The 2016 cinematic interpretation of this true-to-life tale; Deepwater Horizon, makes effective use of its titular location and subsequent tragedy to deliver a lamentable yet nevertheless gripping thriller, admiring the bravery of those who escaped with their lives whilst never losing sight of the affliction and distress they endured on that faithful day.

Plot Summary: Manned by one hundred and twenty-six workers, the semi-submersible, offshore oil-drilling rig, Deepwater Horizon, operates as usual over the Gulf of Mexico, forty-one miles southeast of the Louisiana Coast. But, before long, Chief electronics technician, Mike Williams, and seasoned rig supervisor, Jimmy Harrell, discover that the critical examination of Deepwater Horizon’s cement foundation was bypassed by BP’s frugal executives, consequently inducing a devastating explosion that kills several oilfield workers and traps Mike and his remaining colleagues on the cadaverous rig amidst the flames…

Upon its announcement, many oilfield workers from the Gulf of Mexico were against the production of Deepwater Horizon, declaring that they believed the film would dishonour the men who sadly perished during the event. However, Mike Williams (one of the survivors) thoroughly supported the film, assisting the crew throughout production alongside another survivor, as they felt it was a suitable method of depicting the terrifying circumstances they and the other oilfield workers endured, with the leading intent of director Peter Berg (Hancock, Lone Survivor, Patriots Day) being to make the disaster feel as real as possible for the audience, encapsulating the sensation of workers’ shared dread in 2010.

In keeping with this sense of realism, the dialogue throughout Deepwater Horizon remains authentic to the vocabulary of oilfield workers, repeatedly tossing around the shorthand terminology of the position. Similarly, the screenplay is precise in defining the various components of the oil rig without becoming overwhelmed, making the eventual catastrophe that unfolds appear merited and tangible. Regrettably, however, even with most of the central cast, including Mark Wahlberg, Kurt Russell and Gina Rodriguez, being introduced before they set foot on the rig through an assortment of brief, home-set sequences, the majority of these preliminary scenes only provide insight into their industrial roles along with some clumsy exposition concerning the Deepwater Horizon, conveying that each of the oilfield workers has loved ones, but not much else.

For the production of Deepwater Horizon, an extensive oil rig set was constructed in Chalmette, Louisiana (where filming predominantly took place). One of the largest-scale sets ever built at the time, the rig-inspired set was assembled using over three million pounds of steel in a two-million-gallon water tank. And while this commitment to building an expansive set is indeed impressive, appearing immensely accurate to the actual Deepwater Horizon, the set design is partially hindered by the cinematography by Enrique Chediak, which remains relatively uninspired throughout the runtime, primarily consisting of hand-held mid-shots and the occasional sweeping wide shot of the rig and surrounding ocean.

The third instance composer Steve Jablonsky has collaborated with Peter Berg following 2012’s Battleship and 2013’s Lone Survivor. Berg and Jablonsky’s staple as a director-composer duo seems to be taking sampled mechanical sounds and using them as the cornerstones of each original score. On Battleship, this sound was the whining, clanging cacophony of a medical MRI machine whereas, on Deepwater Horizon, it’s the incessant ping of an active SONAR alongside a combination of electronic tones and instruments. As such, the score lacks melody and harmony, yet successfully creates suspense through tracks like The Rig, Negative Pressure Test and Cut the Pipe, up to when the rig explodes.

Once the rig does eventually burst into flames, it’s suitably nightmarish as Peter Berg doesn’t attempt to ‘wow’ the audience with impressive visual effects or exhilarating set pieces, but rather never lets the audience forget that this is a man-made disaster, pointing the finger squarely at BP for their monumental mistake and proving that while there may have been some temptation to provide the story with a glossy finish, Berg found a way to present blockbuster-level effects without sacrificing any of the realism or torment of the actual event.

In summary, whilst most disaster flicks are usually guilt-free confections, given that they often centralise on an act of nature and feature destruction so grandiose in appearance that it lessens the impact of the on-screen devastation to the point that the audience can relish in the utter mayhem. Deepwater Horizon takes a drastically different approach to the disaster genre, with its story being based on true events. By embracing this realism, the cataclysm that occurs within the film becomes more immediate and horrifying. And while there are feats of courage here and there, Deepwater Horizon is predominantly presented as a real-world calamity, not a comforting tale of heroism and optimism. Rating: 7/10.

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Jupiter Ascending (2015) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / 1 Comment

“I Will Harvest That Planet Tomorrow Before I Let Her Take It From Me.” – Balem Abrasax

A sci-fi blockbuster from the writer-directors behind; Cloud Atlas, V for Vendetta and The Matrix trilogy, Lana Wachowski and Lilly Wachowski, a.k.a. the Wachowskis. 2015’s Jupiter Ascending is a rarely exciting, often laughable science fiction flick that attempts to explore a number of interesting concepts yet frequently fails on almost every other front. Unquestionably the singular work of the Wachowskis, Jupiter Ascending exhibits many of the filmmakers’ worst tendencies, telling a campy, overblown spectacle of a story that retains barely any of the visionary leadership that drove some of their earlier filmography to be held in such high regard.

Plot Summary: Born under a night sky, with signs predicting she was destined for great things, Jupiter Jones dreams of the stars but awakens to the cold reality of a dead-end cleaning job in Chicago. But, when Caine Wise, a genetically engineered ex-military bounty hunter, arrives on Earth to track her down, Jupiter begins to realise what the universe has in store for her as she is marked next in line for a royal inheritance that could alter the balance of the cosmos…

Originally slated to release on July 25th, 2014, before the production slipped over six months to provide more time for the visual effect team to complete the elaborate effects. Jupiter Ascending possesses many attributes that commonly make for an entertaining sci-fi epic, with large-scale set pieces, thrilling action sequences and moments of world-building all appearing throughout its runtime. However, similar to The Matrix sequels, where the sheer scale of the storytelling seemed to overwhelm the Wachowskis, Jupiter Ascending frequently appears unfocused and carries little dramatic weight as it places all of its attention on exploring its vast universe, with the plot itself resembling planet-hopping stories like Dune and the Star Wars prequel trilogy, revolving around various factions grasping for power. It’s a serviceable story, to be sure, but it usually feels secondary to the world-building which, as previously mentioned, comes across as cluttered and forces countless characters to serve as exposition dumps for Jupiter, even if there are some interesting ideas at play, such as humans not originating from Earth and being sighted as cattle to species that consider themselves superior.

On a screenplay level, Jupiter Ascending is hardly revolutionary, depicting the protagonist, Jupiter Jones, as a young, seemingly insignificant woman who discovers she actually holds the key to extraordinary power. Yet, the screenplay rarely treats Jupiter as anything more than a damsel in distress, constantly needing to be protected by the fearless soldier turned bounty hunter, Caine Wise. As a result, the central duo of Mila Kunis and Channing Tatum deliver rather bland performances, occasionally wisecracking as they travel from location to location, continually in danger and continually underdeveloped, especially when they develop feelings for one another. In keeping with their surroundings, the supporting cast of Sean Bean, Eddie Redmayne, Douglas Booth and Tuppence Middleton turn in similarly lacklustre performances, with Redmayne’s performance as the antagonist, Balem Abrasax, being the true standout (unintentionally so), whispering some lines and shrieking others.

The visuals of Jupiter Ascending are one of the film’s best aspects, as the cinematography by John Toll captures the majesty of outer space in several creative ways, presenting the universe with much more colour and lavishness than many other sci-fi blockbusters. Speaking of other science fiction franchises, unlike Stark Trek or Battlestar Galactica, all of the spaceship designs throughout the film are pristine and elegant, almost comparable to floating cathedrals, as they maintain a golden colour scheme to play into the idea of the proprietors of said ships (and accompanying opulent costumes) belonging to a royal bloodline. Many of the interiors of the spaceships even appear inspired by European architecture, specifically Renaissance architecture, massively deviating from the grey, metallic interiors seen in most of the sci-fi genre. Sadly, however, it’s difficult to fully concentrate on the myriad of beautiful visuals due to the abysmal dialogue, which ranges from dull and overly expositional to unconsciously hilarious.

On another cynical note, the original score by Michael Giacchino is regrettably one of the composer’s weakest scores to date. Moving from thunderous, brassy statements to a deeply menacing voice choir that evokes memories of The Emperor’s Theme from Star Wars: Episode VI – Return of the Jedi, released in 1983, the soundtrack for Jupiter Ascending certainly fits within the science fiction genre, yet never feels distinguishable or greatly adds to the emotion/excitement playing out on-screen.

In terms of action, Jupiter Ascending makes the most of its few action sequences by having Caine Wise and the assorted adversaries he goes against cleverly utilise a selection of futuristic weapons and gadgets. In particular, one early sequence of Jupiter and Caine escaping an extraterrestrial attack squad in a chase above the twilight streets of Chicago is both eye-catching and exhilarating.

In summary, at its heart, Jupiter Ascending is a jumbled wish-fulfilment narrative whereby a despondent cleaner turns out to be the secret proprietor of Earth. And with so many heroes’ journey-type franchises existing nowadays, it is a bold stroke to make the ‘chosen one’ a respected monarch. But, on account of the sheer magnitude of the story and world-building, Jupiter Ascending quickly crumbles under its only weight, only being saved from total collapse by its impressive visual effects and stimulating action set pieces, subsequently failing to start what would have been yet another big-budget science fiction franchise. Rating: low 4/10.

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The Green Knight (2021) – Film Review

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“One Year Hence…” – The Green Knight

Written, produced, directed and edited by David Lowery (Pete’s Dragon, A Ghost Story, The Old Man & the Gun), The Green Knight, released in 2021, is a visually stunning fantasy odyssey based on the 14th-century Middle English poem; Sir Gawain and the Green Knight by the Gawain Poet. Steered by a spectacular performance from Dev Patel, The Green Knight takes the timeless legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table and deconstructs many aspects of the famed fables, leaving a lot of its story open to interpretation while casting a captivating spell on its audience through a slow-paced, mature and stylistic fantasy adventure.

Plot Summary: On Christmas Day, before the noble King Arthur and his loyal Knights of the Round Table, the King’s headstrong nephew, Sir Gawain, agrees to a challenge from a formidable foe; in a year’s time, travel to the remote Green Chapel and face its ghastly lord, the Green Knight. But, as the one-year milestone arrives, Gawain embarks on his peril-laden journey with great apprehension, traversing the land in an effort to honour his promise and prove his mettle…

A large majority of The Green Knight‘s narrative revolves around the five traditional knightly virtues of friendship, generosity, chastity, courtesy and piety. Throughout the runtime, Gawain, when tested, fails at all five of these virtues through a variety of situations, demonstrating that Gawain is not yet ready to be a knight and adding to the subtext of his journey. Moreover, in order to make his vision of the Arthurian world appear more distinct, Lowery’s screenplay freely capitalises on folk elements derived from Welsh, Irish and English stories, as well as the French chivalric tradition of the Middle Ages to flesh out the world-building and Gawain’s mystical encounters that are only alluded to in the original verse.

Whilst the supporting cast of Alicia Vikander, Joel Edgerton, Sean Harris, Barry Keoghan and Erin Kellyman are all sublime in their various roles, Dev Patel truly knocks it out of the park performance-wise, portraying Sir Gawain as a troubled yet well-intending relative of the celebrated hero and monarch, King Arthur, evidently anxious about overcoming his personal flaws to find his honour and live up to the legacy left by his uncle and his faithful Knights, all in the hope of one day becoming the monarch himself. Patel is simply a magnet for the audience’s sympathy and the protagonist Gawain is a character anyone can get behind, with his journey of trials, temptations, trouble and self-discovery only adding to his subtle characterisation.

Primarily shot in Ireland, presumably to capture much of the island’s natural beauty. Practically all of the cinematography by Andrew Droz Palermo is visually astonishing, depicting a grounded and eerie fantasy world that makes fantastical concepts like spirits, giants and a talking fox seem almost ordinary. From soggy marshes to lonely mountain roads and extensive forests wrapped in mist, the camerawork never fails to visually grasp the looming dread that grips the land, mirroring Gawain’s fear of the Green Knight. The set design is also remarkably impressive, assuring the shadowy interiors of each structure are equally atmospheric. The only real downside concerning the visuals would be the CG effects, which often appear too glossy and clean when compared to the rest of the unkept visual aesthetic. Still, all of this is somewhat to be expected, as Lowery has always been a gifted visual storyteller, especially when it comes to colour usage, and The Green Knight is no exception, retaining a wildly diverse colour palette of earthly tones, making the film perhaps Lowery’s most sumptuous work to date.

Similarly, the original score by Daniel Hart manages to convey the setting, time period and action/emotion without performing the same tricks too many times over. Through tracks like Excalibur and Now I’m Ready, I’m Ready Now, the Pagan-like percussion and xylophone come and go, frequently followed by a whistle or pipe lead and rattling backing, making for an almost medieval-like dance rhythm. The score also utilises acoustic drums, bass strings, angelic vocals, bottles and harps. And it’s this unique combination of instruments that allows the soundtrack to expertly back up Gawain’s journey across numerous scenes, whether triumphant or fearful.

Given that the character’s name is the very title of the film, the Green Knight needed to leave an impact on the story and the audience. Luckily, he does just that. Sporting overgrown, corroded armour engraved with the Sabaic alphabet (Sabaic being a South Arabian language spoken from 1000 BC to 6th Century AD), the Green Knight has a tremendous on-screen presence, appearing ancient, imposing and authentic as a result of his flawless costuming and prosthetic makeup, the Green Knight’s towering appearance only being rivalled by his baritone voice, well-provided by actor, Ralph Ineson.

In summary, The Green Knight is a visually breathtaking fantasy flick, in addition to another exceptional release from production company; A24 Films, outside of its usual brand of horror and drama-centric films. Although its pacing is occasionally too slow for its own good and many audience members will undoubtedly be turned off by its assortment of interpretive scenes and heavy emphasis on underlining themes. David Lowery employs almost every ounce of his imagination to craft an audacious and demanding Arthurian adaptation that warrants multiple viewings to increase its allure. Rating: low 8/10.

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The Lighthouse (2019) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / 1 Comment

“Why’d Ya Spill Yer Beans?” – Thomas Wake

A psychological horror only in the vaguest sense, 2019’s The Lighthouse is a strange yet wondrous cinematic venture, incomparable to many other modern releases due to its distinct visual aesthetic and often genre-defying narrative. Led by an outstanding pair of performances from Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe, The Lighthouse is the type of film that relentlessly sears itself into its audience’s memory, employing striking visuals, Lovecraftian influences and ominous, atmospheric sound design to craft an unnerving flick that closely resembles the fever-induced night terrors many actual lighthouse keepers endured during their lonesome, off-shore excursions tending to a beacon.

Plot Summary: Off the coast of late 19th-century New England, two lighthouse keepers, the taciturn former lumberjack, Ephraim Winslow, and the elderly lighthouse caretaker, Thomas Wake, set foot on a remote island to begin their monthly duties. But, as the tight-lipped men spend more and more time in each other’s company, a mutual resentment begins to arise as their collective sanity unravels…

Co-written and directed by Robert Eggers (The Witch, The Northman), the story of The Lighthouse is loosely based on a real-life affair that occurred in 1801 known as the Smalls Lighthouse Tragedy, during which two Welsh lighthouse keepers, sharing the name Thomas, became trapped at their station during a storm. When one of the men died, it is said to have driven the other insane. The story also takes some influence from the seafaring literature of renowned authors, including Herman Melville, Robert Louis Stevenson and H.P. Lovecraft, all of which lends the film a sense of historical accuracy and unseen oceanic horror. According to Eggers, earlier versions of the screenplay were more coherent, however, this was later changed as Eggers’ felt the best way to approach the film was to make the audience feel like they were losing their minds alongside the characters. As a result, The Lighthouse can occasionally be quite difficult to follow, yet this ultimately works in the narrative’s favour as the audience, much like the characters, struggle to tell reality from delusion. Even the very concept of time gets thrown out the window by the end of the second act, as it becomes almost impossible to tell how much time has passed between certain scenes, forcing the characters (and the audience) to question exactly how long they have been on the secluded island.

As the only two cast members, Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe are superb throughout the runtime as fellow lighthouse keepers, Ephraim Winslow and Thomas Wake. Simultaneously appearing layered and accurate to the time period, both characters flourish on-screen thanks to Pattinson and Dafoe’s electric performances, which are only enhanced when combined with the continuously compelling dialogue. This period-accurate dialogue bleeds through every scene, with the screenplay’s emphasis on 19th-century terminology and expressions instantly transporting the audience to the time and setting of the story, enriching Ephraim and Thomas’ persistent back-and-forths as they become increasingly infuriated at their situation. What makes the characters even more interesting is that neither one can be sighted as a reliable point-of-view, no matter how much they claim the other to be untrustworthy or deranged under their boozy breath.

Shot on Double-X stock, which requires much more light to get exposure. So much so, that the crew had to use about fifteen to twenty times more lights on set when filming at night or indoors to successfully capture footage. The cinematography by Jarin Blaschke is imposing and hypnotic, exhaustively utilising the isolated location of the treeless, storm-susceptible island along with its adjoining greyscale colour palette to create an array of hauntingly beautiful shots. Many of the visuals almost seem like depictions of a sailor’s nightmare, with the dense black-and-white grain of 35mm capturing every shadow and contour, lending the visuals a sensation of 19th-century expressionist horror, where even the tight aspect ratio proves to be claustrophobic. Furthermore, The Lighthouse employs several exceptional practical effects to depict the story’s more fantastical elements, such as its visual references to Greek mythology and seafarer folklore, like mermaids, sirens and the mighty Kraken.

Moving onto the original score, composer Mark Korven adds to the film’s foreboding atmosphere through doomy tracks like Arrival, Curse Your Name and Stranded. However, much of the unsettling atmosphere could also be attributed to the immersive sound design, central to which is a bellowing foghorn, which sound designer, Damian Volpe, turned to J.J. Jamieson to create; a craftsman in Shetland, Scotland, who makes YouTube tutorials on operating and maintaining foghorns. Using Jamieson’s samples, Volpe manipulated the sound to create a period-accurate foghorn that was suitably startling and memorable.

Another favourable aspect of The Lighthouse is its authenticity, not merely in relation to its time period, but in regard to its restraint to filming on-location, which allows the film to retain a consistent level of practicality throughout, similar to its sense of dread, both of which are only broken up by the handful of well-timed, darkly comedic moments.

In summary, disorientation is clearly the primary intent of The Lighthouse as Eggers offers hints towards a grander narrative, but never fully commits to a sweeping, readable story, even avoiding an easily discernible conclusion. As such, instead of serving as a straightforward psychological horror or a disturbing historic folk tale, The Lighthouse is more of a surreal exploration of masculinity, guilt and seclusion, in addition to standing as another impressive showcase of Robert Eggers’ screenwriting/filmmaking abilities. Rating: 9/10.

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Thirteen Lives (2022) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“We Do Nothing, We’ll Be Bringing Them Out Dead for Sure. But, if They Die While We’re Bringing Them Out, at Least We Will Have Tried.” – Rick Stanton

Suspenseful, meticulous and gripping, Thirteen Lives is a diverting, claustrophobic drama/thriller and a hidden gem of the straight-to-streaming releases of 2022. Offering an incomplete yet engrossing dramatisation of an incredible true-to-life tale, Thirteen Lives succeeds in recounting the real story of a global effort to rescue a Thai soccer team who became entrapped in a flooding cave system in 2018. And while some aspects of the film appear rather drab, thanks to director Ron Howard (Apollo 13, A Beautiful Mind, Solo: A Star Wars Story) and his somewhat vanilla style of filmmaking, it’s an immersive and engaging recount, nonetheless.

Plot Summary: Faced with insurmountable odds, a team of the world’s most proficient divers navigate a treacherous maze of flooded, narrow cave tunnels in an attempt to rescue a Thai soccer team of twelve children and their coach after they become trapped in the Tham Luang cave in Thailand following an unexpected rainstorm…

Even though the real story behind Thirteen Lives has been recounted before, most notably in the National Geographic documentary, The Rescue, released in 2021. Thirteen Lives is a similarly fact-based account that holds true to what really occurred, rarely playing with the details to manipulate the audience’s emotions or adhere to a more conventional story structure. The film even retains the involvement of numerous countries in the almost three-week-long rescue as, in reality, multiple nations took part alongside Thailand, such as Australia, Denmark, Japan, China, Laos, Myanmar (Burma), Great Britain and the United States. In fact, around ten thousand people contributed to the rescue effort, including more than one hundred divers, nine hundred police officers, two thousand soldiers and numerous volunteers.

Viggo Mortensen, Colin Farrell, Joel Edgerton, Tom Bateman and Paul Gleeson portray written interpretations of the actual heroes who ventured into Tham Luang cave, portraying them as modest and down-to-Earth and never representing them as hero-like archetypes, despite their unquestionably brave actions. Unfortunately, however, the screenplay doesn’t do so well at detailing who the individuals are outside of their adept diving skills, which is inexcusable given the film’s rather excessive runtime. The only specific trait any of the divers exhibit is their distinctly British obsession with Custard Creams, which I’m assuming was written into the screenplay to make the divers seem more relatable.

Similar to the rest of Ron Howard’s filmography, the cinematography throughout the film is rather bland, as cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom largely falls back on hand-held close-ups and mid-shots. Yet, in spite of that, the film usually thrives visually due to its enveloping set design and dim lighting, which make the submerged cave tunnels appear tight, precarious and dingy. For many of these scenes, Mukdeeprom actually used the actors themselves as a lighting source, requesting them to lift their heads and look around after delivering a line to throw some light into the cave. This technique (and others) helped with lighting the sets, which were built in an enormous hangar-sized studio using double Olympic-size water tanks. The film also employs an array of on-screen schematics to visually inform the audience of what segment of the cave the children/divers are currently in, as well as text to notify the audience of how much time has passed between certain scenes on account of the film covering most of the three-week-long rescue.

Through tracks like Tham Luang, Rain, Dive and Oxygen, the original score by Benjamin Wallfisch predominantly defies musical norms as the filmmakers sought to avoid overly sentimental or manipulative pieces when it came to the soundtrack, concentrating instead on using the score as a tool of abstraction and disorientation. Interestingly, Ron Howard initially sought to work with his collaborator of many years, Hans Zimmer, who subsequently recommended Wallfisch for the project as he was preoccupied. Together Howard and Wallfisch hashed through strategic approaches to the score over several months, seeking ways to incorporate Thai influences and experimental electronic suspense techniques. All to the score’s benefit, I might add. With that said, a few scenes do suffer due to the original score’s presence, where I feel atmospheric sound design would’ve been far more effective.

In regard to realism, professional diver, Rick Stanton, praised the film’s accuracy, stating that one of the only cinematic changes was that the cave water was muddy. In reality, the divers had zero visibility, but “That Would Be Impossible to Demonstrate Because Then the Viewers Would Not See Anything.” Furthermore, the young actors portraying the trapped Thai soccer team were all cast from Northern Thailand, so if they wound up improvising any dialogue the unique dialect and accent would be authentic. This emphasis on accuracy is always something I admire when it comes to adapting true stories, and Thirteen Lives is no exception.

In summary, Thirteen Lives is a predominantly compelling drama/thriller with its own unique selection of minor flaws. While the first half of the film feels like it’s simply treading water, waiting for its tense final act. The second half is a riveting depiction of a daring, foolhardy rescue, capturing much of the same fear, confusion and determination the actual divers must have felt during those fateful few weeks in 2018. As such, even if you already know how the story ends, Thirteen Lives largely prevails in plunging its audience into a submerged rescue scenario. Rating: 7/10.

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Action Point (2018) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“What a Day! We Ran Out of Beer, Corn Dogs and Toilet Paper. In That Order.” – D.C. Carver

From Johnny Knoxville, co-creator of Jackass, Action Point, released in 2018, is loosely inspired by the now-defunct Action Park in Vernon, New Jersey, which first opened in 1979. The independently-funded theme park was considered by many to be one of the most dangerous entertainment destinations in the United States, as at least six people were known to have died as a result of incidents that occurred within the park. Founder and CEO Gene Mulvihill’s philosophy was that guests should be in control of their experience, envisioning a theme park where the guests controlled how fast/high they went, which is exactly what he created with Action Park. Consequently, the park closed in 1996 and later reopened under new ownership as Mountain Creek in order to disassociate itself from the former park’s reputation. Yet, in spite of all this fascinating history, Action Point is a rather poor attempt at adapting one of the world’s most dangerous theme parks for the silver screen, combing lowbrow humour with a flavourless (and largely invented) narrative to minimal effect.

Plot Summary: A low-rent yet moderately successful theme park with an assortment of hazardous attractions, Action Point was the crackpot dream of its owner and operator, D.C. Carver, who always believed that children enjoying themselves was more important than anything else. But, just as D.C.’s estranged teenage daughter comes to visit, a massive corporate theme park opens nearby, jeopardising the future of Action Point…

Action Park, the theme park that inspired Action Point, is actually the subject of multiple documentaries, including 2013’s The Most Insane Amusement Park Ever, and 2020’s Class Action Park, both of which go deep into the construction and history of the troubled entertainment destination. So, with two documentaries detailing the park along with a plethora of YouTube videos, it’s easy to see why the filmmakers behind Action Point thought the story would make for an excellent comedic biopic of Mulvihill. However, therein lies the first issue with the film; Action Point isn’t truthfully a biopic as its narrative is primarily fictional, with names of characters/locations getting changed to further fit this approach. To make things worse, director Tim Kirkby (The C World, (Future) Cult Classic, Last Looks) repeatedly has trouble applying conventional story structure to the kind of reckless Jackass-esque stunts that populate the film, which only worked previously, thanks to their short-snippet, home-made allure.

While he may be looked down upon for his history as a daredevil who made his career off of getting hit in the crotch, many seem to forget that Johnny Knoxville is actually a competent actor, able to convey the emotion and empathy required for a role such as this. And although you never forget that you are watching Knoxville merely portray a character, he does a serviceable job of portraying D.C. Carver. Alternatively, the supporting cast’s performances are fairly inconsistent, as Eleanor Worthington-Cox, Chris Pontius and Dan Bakkedahl are sometimes bland and sometimes overly eccentric. Moreover, Action Point tries to integrate a subplot alongside the primary storyline around D.C.’s cracks at connecting with his fourteen-year-old daughter, yet this subplot seems like nothing but a saccharine afterthought on behalf of the screenwriter.

Attempting to match the hand-built qualities of Action Park, the large-scale set pieces throughout Action Point are suitably outlandish and precarious. The film even goes so far as to include the Cannonball Loop waterslide, one of the most notorious attractions of the original park. That attention to detail does not persist in every aspect of the film, however, as whilst Action Park was surrounded by trees and foliage, Action Point’s iteration of the disreputable theme park is simply an expansive patch of dirt, which feels cheap and artificial in comparison. Similarly, the cinematography by Michael Snyman is relatively dull, only retaining a handful of visually interesting shots.

Barely noticeable for the majority of the runtime, the original score by Deke Dickerson, Andrew Feltenstein and John Nau is flat and easily forgettable. Luckily, the film redeems its uninspiring score through its use of well-known punk-rock songs like Janie Jones and If the Kids Are Untied, which count towards the chaotic, out-of-control disposition of the park and its innumerable youthful guests.

As previously mentioned, despite appearing both risky and painful, all of the stunts throughout Action Point feel tremendously out of place, as the story frequently grinds to a halt to make way for a scene of a character getting injured. In fact, Johnny Knoxville claims to have sustained more injuries in this flick than in any other film of his career. These injuries included four concussions, a broken hand, a damaged meniscus, a lost orbital lamina, whiplash, stitches and even the loss of some of his teeth.

In summary, while Action Point was never going to be anything more than masochistic sequences built atop a flimsy plot, eighty-five minutes of Knoxville and his co-stars abusing themselves across a shoddy recreation of one of the most unsafe theme parks in the United States quickly becomes tiresome. And whilst ideas like an alcoholic bear may get a smile out of some, this box office flop just doesn’t hold a candle to the glory days of Jackass, whether that be the cinematic trilogy or the original television series. As such, I would advise just watching Jackass or any of the documentaries depicting the true story of Action Park over Action Point, as they are far more entertaining. Rating: 4/10.

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Westworld (1973) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“There’s No Way to Get Hurt in Here, Just Enjoy Yourself.” – John Blane

Before the emergence of the hit sci-fi-drama series of the same name, 1973’s Westworld was a pillar of the science fiction genre. With an engaging story, imaginative concepts and a terrific performance from Yul Brynner as a lethal, automated gunslinger, the original Westworld is a delightful sci-fi-western hybrid that puts its clever gimmicks to creative use, rarely getting bogged down by pretentious statements regarding the creation of artificial life (unlike its contemporary television counterpart), to instead concentrate on its visceral style of storytelling and filmmaking.

Plot Summary: In the near future, the Delos Corporation offers the perfect getaway with the entertainment destinations; Medievalworld, Romanworld and Westernworld, where guests can experience life in the time period of their choosing, indulging in their wildest fantasies while interacting with the attendant androids that populate them. But, when Westworld undergoes a system-wide malfunction, causing the androids’ built-in safety features to fail, the safety of the guests is put into question…

Written and directed by Michael Crichton (Coma, Looker, Physical Evidence), author of many celebrated novels, including Jurassic Park. Crichton became inspired to write Westworld following his trip to Disneyland, where he rode the water-based attraction, Pirates of the Caribbean, and was impressed by the animatronic pirates. This is also why the iconic attraction is mentioned in the 1993 adaptation of Jurassic Park when Malcolm states: “When the Pirates of the Caribbean Breaks Down, the Pirates Don’t Eat the Tourists.” Crichton effectively utilises this inspiration by playing upon humanity’s fears of artificial intelligence one day overthrowing us. Furthermore, through the characters, Crichton’s screenplay retains a solid amount of satire, with the guests hungry for danger and adventure quickly turning spineless once Westworld becomes truly dangerous, much like the real Wild West that inspired it.

Regarding the characters, the screenplay largely depicts them as if they are the audience themselves, with the protagonist, Peter Martin, portrayed by Richard Benjamin, being a recently-divorced Westworld newcomer, whilst his friend, John Blane, portrayed by James Brolin, is a returning guest eager to jump back into the ways of the Old West. As a result, we get to see how Westworld functions from a guest and staff perspective before the chaos begins. And while neither of the central duo is given a lot of development, both characters serve an important purpose within the narrative as wealthy guests who are visiting Westworld to indulge their desires for pampering and daring escapades, whether that a bank robbery, a bar-room brawl or merely taking sexual advantage of a coy-serving wench. Then, on the android side of things, there’s the Gunslinger, portrayed by Yul Brynner, who truly steals the show, becoming fixated on the pair following their confrontation in the first act. The Gunslinger acts as a forbidding embodiment of the widespread malfunction, relentlessly hunting his target(s) with a cold, calculating demeanour and a continually menacing presence.

From the vast desert-set Westworld to Medievalworld, a mead and chicken-leg heaven, to the flowery gardens and toga parties that is Romanworld, the set design throughout Westworld is excellent, excluding a few barren hallways, here and there. The cinematography by Gene Polito isn’t as remarkable, however, overly depending on close-ups and mid-shots, which becomes rather repetitive, despite appearing reminiscent of the camerawork in classic westerns. In addition to the three entertainment destinations, all of the period-set areas are connected by a web of subterranean passageways and an eerily prescient CCTV system, both of which help provide enticing snippets into the unfolding horror once Westworld collapses, furnishing the film with a healthy amount of edge instead of relying on unwarranted bloody violence for its final act.

An efficacious blend of sci-fi and western, Westworld‘s original score frequently alleviates the atmosphere of scenes that could otherwise appear quite sinister, as the score varies from lively, Wild West-era tracks like The Western Warble and Stagecoach Arrival to scratchy, ominous tones and percussions with tracks like Robot Repair. This switch from passé to futuristic pieces never feels out of place, though, as the distinctive tracks lean into the idea of merging multiple time periods via the entertainment destinations.

Intriguingly, Westworld actually marked the first-ever use of computer-digitised images in a feature film (not merely monitor graphics) with the shots from the Gunslinger’s point-of-view. After the technical process was sufficiently developed to produce satisfactory results, it only took around eight hours to produce every ten seconds of footage for the Gunslinger’s pixelated P.O.V., which is monumental for 1970s filmmaking. However, this praise could be applied to almost all of the film’s effects, which have held up well since the ’70s. That is, aside from the fake blood, which looks closer to bright red paint whenever a guest or android is shot dead.

In summary, in an era of pessimism, it’s refreshing to see a sci-fi flick like Westworld that depicts the future as not dystopian, but an affluent and joyous time with merely detrimental forms of recreation, adding a level of appeal to the world-building that many science fiction releases seem to miss out. As such, Westworld comes across as an innovative sci-fi-western, harbouring an appropriate amount of satire along with an abundance of apprehension regarding the evolution of artificial intelligence, keeping the audience captivated throughout its moderate runtime, even in spite of its occasional time-worn aspects. Rating: high 7/10.

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Mad God (2021) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“If You Disobey Me and Remain Hostile to Me, I Will Act Against You in Wrathful Hostility. I, for My Part, Will Discipline You Sevenfold for Your Sins…” – Opening Quotation

Written, directed and produced (among many other credits) by Phil Tippett, the founder and namesake of Tippett Studio, whose varied career in visual effects has spanned more than thirty years and includes two Academy Award wins and six nominations. Mad God, released in 2021, is a rich visual treat for enthusiasts of horror and stop-motion animation alike, serving as a harrowing delve into a post-apocalyptic hellscape that is both unique and disturbing. Harbouring a cinematic allure that is equal parts unsettling and mesmerising, Mad God proves that even in the age of CGI, the art form of stop-motion remains strong, even if the story and characters it’s bringing to life are far from well-developed.

Plot Summary: Equipped with a gas mask and an ageing map, the Assassin, a lone iron-clad humanoid, descends into an underworld of tortured souls, ruined cities and wretched monstrosities on a covert mission to reach the heart of this nightmarish realm of suffering…

First starting work on the project in the late 1980s, shortly after creating effects for RoboCop 2, released in 1990. Mad God has been Tippett’s pet project for over thirty years, despite the filmmaker almost considering abandoning the project when Jurassic Park was released in 1993, as CG effects appeared to make stop-motion a thing of the past. After some urging from those around him, however, Tippett decided to create a Kickstarter campaign that allowed him to complete the project. In the following years, three parts of Mad God were released online, which made up around half of the full eighty-two-minute version that was eventually screened at various film festivals. And whilst this story behind the film’s creation is certainly intriguing, Mad God‘s biggest shortcoming is that it lacks a narrative itself, or at least a coherent one. Instead, the film relies on visual storytelling and world-building as the audience follows the Assassin on his lengthy journey, encountering many distinct creatures, locations and civilisations on a mission that is never disclosed. As such, watching Mad God requires a lot of concentration to get the most out of it, much like how the project was crafted, I suppose.

With no dialogue or characterisation to speak of, Mad God‘s characters hinge entirely on their design. Thankfully, every character/creature that appears throughout the runtime is visibly repulsive, unnerving and eccentric. At the core of Mad God‘s story is a character only known as the Assassin, a silent, gas mask-wearing humanoid who also receives no characterisation, instead functioning as an audience surrogate through Tippett’s fever dream of a post-apocalyptic world. As the film features no dialogue, the central cast, including Alex Cox, Niketa Roman and Satish Ratakonda, only appear in a handful of live-action sequences, which similar to the scenes of stop-motion, are grimy and discomforting whilst relying on visuals over direct storytelling. While these sequences are interesting and count towards what little plot there is, many of these moments also pull you out of the experience and are often plagued by the film’s need to implement oral sounds to ensure the human characters don’t appear mute, meaning noises like “Eh?” and “Hmmm” become rather repetitious.

The cinematography by Chris Morley and Phil Tippett allows for spectacular framing within every scene, lending to the atmosphere and intrigue of each setting, whether its an oxidised factory of greasy machinery or a society of helpless slaves ruled over by an electronic screen that speaks in child-like gibberish. Furthermore, each of the surroundings the Assassin treks across is distinguished by the film’s colour palette, which seamlessly jumps from cold blues to vile greens and blood reds, making the stop-motion appear incredibly cinematic. Interestingly, one scene, which features a mountain of dead soldiers, was actually accomplished by melting thousands of plastic army men together on a wire. This scene took six animators around three years to complete, demonstrating the substantial amount of dedication required to animate even a single scene of Mad God.

Through prolonged tracks like Long Way Down and Conveyance, Mad God‘s original score by Dan Wool enhances many of the surreal visuals in a relatively nuanced fashion, making for a soundtrack that isn’t all that memorable, but avoids becoming overbearing as to let the visuals speak for themselves. However, the sound design is where the film’s audio truly shines as the countless animalistic growls of the mutated creatures that roam Mad God‘s mystifying world are ghastly and add audible depth to whichever location the Assassin finds himself.

As most would expect from Tippett Studio, the animation itself is smooth yet appropriately unearthly, providing every creature with its own jittery method of walking/crawling that feels remarkably natural. What’s even more impressive is that, according to Tippett, a considerable amount of the animation on Mad God was actually conducted by novice students who wanted to gain some filmmaking experience.

In summary, Mad God will likely be a very divisive film on account of its largely interpretive narrative and absence of well-defined characters. But, these annoyances ultimately don’t matter that much in the grand scheme, as Mad God thrives in what it’s trying to do. Presenting itself as a love letter to stop-motion that could only be realised by a legendary visual effects artist like Phil Tippett. And with stop-motion animation in such short supply nowadays, an outstanding piece of artsy like Mad God will always be a joy to behold, faults or not. Rating: 7/10.

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Project X (2012) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“I’m Gonna Go Have a Long Cry and Then Start Calling Some Lawyers…” – Costa

Partially based on a real house party that occurred in Melbourne in 2008, where the then-sixteen-year-old Australian teenager, Corey Worthington, posted his home address on MySpace, attracting around five-hundred people to his home and subsequently causing over $20,000 in property damage. 2012’s Project X undeniably has its flaws, yet through its efficacious use of the found-footage format and fantastically over-the-top narrative, this teen comedy is a surprisingly engaging watch. Standing as one of the rare entries in the found-footage genre to feature no horror content whatsoever, Project X will no doubt repel some older audience members on account of its typically teenage characters and near-constant use of foul language. Yet, for the younger generation, this comedic flick will maintain its appeal thanks to its terrific utilisation of its central concept and real-world inspirations.

Plot Summary: As their tenure as high school seniors draws to a close, two friends, Costa and JB, attempt to finally make a name for themselves by throwing a life-changing birthday party for their friend, Thomas. But, as word of their prodigious house party spreads online, the situation quickly begins to spiral out of control as the guest list rises rapidly…

Directed by Nima Nourizadeh (American Ultra) and produced by Todd Philips, director of many renowned comedies, including The Hangover, Old School and War Dogs. Project X mines the depths of the teen comedy and found-footage genres to deliver eighty-seven minutes of enjoyable debauchery, with its runtime largely consisting of music video-type sequences that fully indulge in the colourful chaos of a neighbourhood-spanning party. And while some moments, such as a scene where a dwarf makes his way through Thomas’ house punching various partygoers in their crotches, could be seen as rather far-fetched, other moments are unexpectedly hilarious thanks to their increasing absurdity. That being so, I would encourage first-time viewers to blindly go into Project X so they can experience many of the film’s surprises first-hand.

The comradery between the central three friends desperately tries to recall those in quintessential teen comedies like Superbad and American Pie, but unlike those earlier films, the leading trio of Thomas, Costa and JB can occasionally come across as somewhat repugnant, despite being sufficiently portrayed by Thomas Mann, Oliver Cooper and Jonathan Daniel Brown, respectively. This is primarily due to the characters being written as authentic teenagers, depicting them as immature, foul-mouthed, impassioned youths who are clearly lacking in favour at their local high school. And whilst none of the characters receive much development beyond this basic level of characterisation, I feel that unlikeability in some scenes is just a repercussion of making the trio seem like genuine teenagers bearing teenage traits. That’s not to say, however, that you don’t feel sorry for Thomas once he starts to panic at the sight of his house being defiled, evidently suffering the consequences of submitting to his friends’ grand scheme.

Shot on a set instead of a real neighbourhood to minimise local disruption, a decision that proved to be a wise one as the set was essentially trashed during production. The cinematography by Ken Seng is realistically shaky and boisterous similar to many other found-footage films, yet still manages to be clear enough to impressively place the audience in the middle of Thomas’ larger-than-life birthday extravaganza. Moreover, to add to the realism, some pieces of footage were shot by the supporting cast with handed-out phones, which all varied in quality or retained visual distinctions to stand out. Another reason Project X looks as captivating as it does is a product of the film’s excellent use of colour, which steadily grows in variation as the party grows in size, making great use of the dynamic lighting setups Costa hires out for the party.

Lacking an original score as a result of its found-footage format, Project X places much of its auditory focus on its remarkable soundtrack, as dance songs like Pursuit of Happiness, Heads Will Roll and Le Disko, perfectly match the upbeat, stimulating atmosphere of a congested house party. And although the film places some of its songs over sequences where non-diegetic music shouldn’t really be present, such as a tumultuous moment in which a riot ensues and the rock song; Battery by Melltaica, is heard. I am willing to ignore that irritation on the basis that the songs chosen for each scene feel more than suitable, adding to the underlining sensation of each sequence, whether that be chaotic or cordial.

Interestingly, many of the minor antics throughout Project X were improvised by the supporting cast, including a scene where a female partygoer gets caught urinating behind a car. Many of these moments add to the pandemonium of the story, appearing inspired by scenarios the filmmakers found themselves in at actual house parties. These short, humourous shots also help redeem the screenplay’s handful of on-the-nose dialogue, especially from minor characters like Thomas’ parents before they leave for the weekend.

In summary, even though the mere notion of Project X will almost certainly turn off any audience members over the age of twenty-five, considering that the plot revolves around dancing and consuming various substances until 05:00 am. I am keen to encourage those on the fence to give the film a chance, as I believe Project X thrives as a teen comedy and will leave many feeling as if they’ve just attended the most epic house party in existence. Rating: 7/10.

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