Rating: 7/10

Deepwater Horizon (2016) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / 1 Comment

“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.

deepwater_horizon_ver7_xxlg

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.

thirteen_lives-p1174327

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.

westworld-p692769

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.

w1cnVYUNJU3NPYh6FBeq0voXD15

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.

project_x-p630878

Carol (2015) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“You Seek Resolutions Because You Are Young. But, You Will Understand This One Day.” – Carol Aird

A period-set romantic drama with a pleasant festive aesthetic in the former half of its runtime, 2015’s Carol is based on the novel; The Price of Salt by Patricia Highsmith. Powered by the fantastic performances of Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara in the lead roles, Carol is a well-told and engrossing tale of forbidden love between two women that lives up to its cherished source material. Thanks in part to its elegant production design and magnificent original score by Carter Burwell.

Plot Summary: During the Christmas season of 1952, aspiring photographer, Therese Belivet, meets Carol Aird whilst working at a boutique store in Manhattan. Semi-divorced and entrapped in a loveless relationship with her former husband, Carol quickly sparks a connection with Therese over their shared romantic hardships. Yet, amidst the strict social norms of their time, their undisguised interest in one another soon turns into profound affection…

The original novel the film is based upon was actually inspired by a blonde woman in a mink coat who ordered a doll from Patricia Highsmith when she was working as a temporary salesgirl at Bloomingdale’s in New York City during the 1948 Christmas season. Highsmith recalled feeling; “Odd and Swimmy in the Head, Near to Fainting. Yet, at the Same Time, Uplifted.” Highsmith completed the outline for the story in about two hours that same night. Moreover, the character of Carol Aird was inspired by Virginia Kent Catherwood, a Philadelphia socialite six years older than Patricia Highsmith, with whom the author had a love affair in the 1940s. Catherwood subsequently lost custody of her daughter after her homosexuality was used against her with a taped recording of a lesbian liaison she had in a hotel room. Director Todd Haynes (Velvet Goldmine, Far from Heaven, I’m Not There) sufficiently employs all these ideas into a grander narrative in his adaptation, primarily concentrating on the senseless consequences of a lesbian relationship in a time when they were strongly frowned upon.

When it comes to the cast, the pairing of Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara is superb, with Blanchett portraying the thirty-two-year-old, Carol Aird, as a woman chafing against the constraints of her role as an upper-class wife and mother, continually expressing her sexual desires for women as a method of rebelling against her husband and her conformist world. While Mara’s performance as nineteen-year-old, Therese Belivet, is more suppressed, depicting the quiet young woman as a self-deprecating, novice photographer who prefers to hide behind her camera than engage with others. Softly spoken and sweet-natured, Therese is as single-minded in her relationship with her boyfriend as she is in her pursued career. As such, it’s easy to see why the pair bond, given that they provide a sense of escapism for each other, and upon their first meeting, the sexual tension between them is palpable.

Although the cinematography by Edward Lachman is doubtful to blow any audience member away with its framing or use of colour, Carol still features a number of visually interesting shots that occasionally even illustrate what the characters are feeling. For instance, in the opening shot, we see an iron floor grille from which the camera slowly pulls out, visually representing the entrapment that Carol and Therese feel at the beginning of the narrative. Another intriguing attribute in regard to the visuals is that Carol was shot on Super-16 millimetre film to better resemble the look of photographic film from the late 1940s/early 1950s. Many of the shots are also directly influenced by the photojournalism of Vivian Maier, Ruth Orkin, Helen Levitt and Esther Bubley, respectively.

Moving onto the original score, through orchestral tracks like Opening, Datebook, Christmas Trees and Waterloo, the score by Carter Burwell consistently sounds wrapped in a gauze of wistful minimalism, with the leading duo being audibly identified by two instrumental markers; Carol by piano and Therese by woodwinds. In addition to the wonderful original score, Carol makes terrific use of songs from the time period. In fact, prior to the start of production, Todd Haynes compiled a playlist of seventy-nine songs that were popular during the era the story is set within to further understand the period. A few of the songs that were ultimately chosen for the film include; One Mint Julep, Easy Living and Smoke Rings.

From start to finish, the production design of Carol is also outstanding, capturing the polish and aristocratic nature of the ’50s without seeming excessive. This praise can be applied to all parts of the production, but, most notably, the costume design. What makes the costume design even more spectacular is that excluding the suit Therese wears in her first and last scene(s), all of Rooney Mara’s costumes were actually well-worn, vintage clothing pieces.

In summary, whilst Carol isn’t one of the finest romantic dramas ever made, it is still a tremendous flick in more ways than one. While the pacing is sometimes too slow for its own good, and the original score occasionally does a lot of the heavy lifting during the more emotionally impactful moments, Carol is an indelible and captivating story, all the same. On top of that, even though many may see Carol as a rather strange choice for a Christmas viewing. I feel the joyous, snowy aesthetic that the film presents during its first half is enough to make the flick a reliable, less whimsical pick for the festive season. Rating: low 7/10.

carol-p1023477

Casino Royale (2006) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“I’m Sorry, That Last Hand… Nearly Killed Me.” – James Bond

Much like the sci-fi television series; Doctor Who, or any franchise that reboots itself after a certain amount of time. The biggest hurdle the 007 franchise has to overcome with every incarnation is getting die-hard fans of the long-established espionage franchise on board. Luckily, the 2006 reboot of the series; Casino Royale, succeeded in this regard, with Daniel Craig taking on the iconic role of James Bond in a slick and thrilling mission. Doing away with much of the absurdity present in previous instalments, in exchange for pulse-pounding action sequences and an unexpectedly engaging romantic subplot.

Plot Summary: After receiving his license to kill, British Secret Service agent, James Bond, sets out on his first mission as 007, travelling to Madagascar, where he uncovers a link to Le Chiffre, a private banker financing terrorist organisations. Learning that Le Chiffre plans to raise funds through a high-stakes poker game at Casino Royale, Montenegro, Bond is instructed to play against him and thwart his plans…

Holding familiarity with the franchise after directing the Pierce Brosnan-era instalment; GoldenEye, in 1995. Director Martin Campbell (The Mask of Zorro, Vertical Limit, The Foreigner), along with the series’ producers, decided to take the franchise in a more grounded direction following the bombastic action sequences of the later Brosnan entries. So, there are no high-tech gadgets or tumultuous helicopter chases in Casino Royale. Instead, the poker game at the centre of the story is what holds most of the film’s suspense, occupying the majority of the second act and harbouring some of Bond’s best lines. Moreover, Casino Royale is one of the most faithful adaptations of the 007 source material, adapted from the novel of the same name by Ian Fleming, the first piece of media to feature the character of James Bond.

Despite the casting of Daniel Craig initially sparking outrage amongst the 007 fanbase due to Craig’s blue eyes and blonde hair, the online annoyance didn’t last long as once Casino Royale was released, critics and fans alike instantly fell for Craig’s rendition of the character. This was partially because, unlike the other cinematic portrayals of James Bond, whose kills held no more weight than the cheeky one-liners that accompanied them, Craig’s tussles tend to be intimate, bloody and devoid of glamour. Craig’s brooding persona, dry humour and excellent line delivery also find a close match in Eva Green’s take on ‘The Bond Girl,’ Vesper Lynd, whose intelligence and assertive attitude puts aside any negative traits associated with the supporting role. And while Mads Mikkelsen is merely serviceable as the antagonist, Le Chiffre, with his menacing performance leaving little impact, Judi Dench makes the most of her brief screen-time as M, the head of MI6, exuding both confidence and power.

In terms of visuals, Casino Royale makes one subtle change that results in the instalment looking quite different from the ones that precede it. For most of the 007 entries before Casino Royale, the visuals almost seem to have been an afterthought as the lighting is flat, the composition is dull, and the cinematography never does anything to advance the characters or the story. Yet, with Casino Royale, it’s evident that the main principle that guides the camerawork is to always keep the camera moving. Thus, the cinematography by Phil Meheux repeatedly makes effective use of hand-held close-ups and mid-shots. Furthermore, when it comes to filmmaking, the first ten minutes of screen-time are crucial in establishing the tone, mood and style of a project. Casino Royale clearly understands this, as the opening scene employs canted camera angles and intercuts between past and present, all dosed in a fierce, greyscale colour palette for a striking introduction.

Surprisingly, the classic 007 theme, composed by Monty Norman, appears very rarely in the film’s original score. Supposedly, this is because the filmmakers wanted to emphasise Bond’s inexperience, essentially having 007 earn the theme by the time the end credits roll. However, that’s not to say that the rest of the score is terrible, as composer David Arnold steers the soundtrack away from over-the-top action cues and towards more nuanced tracks like Vesper and Blunt Instrument. And, of course, no 007 entry would be complete without a memorable song to pair with the stylish opening title sequence. In this case, it’s You Know My Name, by Chris Cornell, an alternative rock piece that fits the tone of Casino Royale flawlessly.

The action sequences are where Casino Royale delivers some of its most jaw-dropping moments. Almost every set piece could easily be the climactic action sequence of any typical action flick, which truly demonstrates the impressive stunt work and remarkable fight choreography on display throughout Casino Royale. The action-heavy first act, in particular, boasts one of the finest parkour sequences seen in this franchise to date, as Bond chases a terrorist through the streets of a Madagascan town, culminating in an exhilarating hand-to-hand scuffle atop a towering construction crane.

In summary, Casino Royale disposes of the goofiness and gadgetry that plagued older James Bond outings as Daniel Craig delivers what critics and fans have been waiting for; a brutal, haunted and intense reinvention of 007. With rousing action sequences, a compelling narrative and a conclusion filled with plenty of potential. Casino Royale functions as a terrific example of how to reboot a well-known franchise, even if it isn’t particularly distinct when placed alongside other espionage flicks. Rating: high 7/10.

casino_royale-p379801

Cargo (2017) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“You Can’t Lose Hope.” – Etta.

Based on the short film of the same name, which went on to be an online sensation following its release in 2013, garnering over thirteen million views on YouTube alone. Cargo takes a refreshingly character-driven approach to the post-apocalyptic genre, differentiating itself from other films featuring flesh-devouring monstrosities through its secluded setting and Martin Freeman’s terrific lead performance. A combination that will surely satisfy most zombie fanatics, even if the genre’s more mainstream crowd could potentially be disappointed at the exclusion of decaying hordes of the undead, a true sense of dread and a lack of extravagant gore.

Plot Summary: After an epidemic spreads across Australia morphing humanity into flesh-eating monsters, Andy, along with his wife, Kay, and their infant daughter, Rosie, attempt to escape the Outback via the river, making their way to a presumably secure military base. But, when the trio stumble upon an abandoned yacht, Kay is bitten while searching the vessel for supplies, soon passing the virus onto her husband. With his time now running short, Andy has one mission; find a new home for his daughter…

Directed by Ben Howling and Yolanda Ramke, Cargo is not only Howling and Ramke’s first feature-length film, but is also Australia’s first-ever production to be spotlighted as a Netflix Original, released globally on the streaming service in 2017. And although Netflix has ventured into the post-apocalyptic genre before with projects like Ravenous and Z Nation, both Howling and Ramke wanted Cargo to be more than just a straightforward story of survival. Subsequently, this led the pair to intertwine social commentary into their zombie-centric story, covering topics ranging from environmental fracking to the exploitation of Australia’s aboriginal peoples. But, in my opinion, the best element of Cargo is its central concept, as the idea of a father having only forty-eight hours to find a new life for his child is a plot enriched with dramatic potential. Moreover, the nocuous outbreak Andy finds himself within serves as the perfect backdrop to juxtapose the qualities one would look for in a capable (and devoted) guardian.

Speaking of the protagonist, Martin Freeman leads the cast brilliantly as Andy, portraying an affectionate father and husband who is determined to protect his family at all costs. An intention which, whilst honourable, often lands him and his loved ones in an even more treacherous spot as Andy refuses to accept when he is out of time. Freeman’s youthful co-star, Simone Landers, unfortunately, doesn’t fare quite as well, as her frail performance frequently results in poignant scenes feeling less sincere. However, Thoomi herself is still an intriguing character, with her subplot concentrating on the demise of her father and the survival of a nearby native tribe, providing a vastly different perspective on the epidemic when compared to Andy’s point of view.

Utilising the vegetation-splotched, sun-parched rural land of the Australian Outback flawlessly, the cinematography by Geoffrey Simpson is both varied and visually interesting. Even if, in reality, the Australian wilderness where Cargo was shot threw everything it had at the production crew with South Australia experiencing what was supposedly its worst weather in a century, with floods, power blackouts, torrential downpours, and even a miniature cyclone all occurring during the five weeks of production. Yet, miraculously, the crew didn’t lose even a single day’s worth of filming. This was extremely fortunate on behalf of the filmmakers, given that the remote setting of the narrative is a crucial player in the film’s identity, with its harsh and unforgiving nature hurling countless obstacles at our characters whilst, at the same time, offering them a means to survive.

Managed by four distinct composers, including Michael Hohnen, Daniel Rankine, Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunupingu and Johnathon Mangarri Yunupingu. The original score for Cargo greatly strengthens each scene’s emotional significance, almost as if the score is applying a proverbial highlighter to certain moments, with sombre, tenuous tracks like The Grave and Goodbye, flourishingly pulling at the audience’s heartstrings more times than one.

Taking an alternate route to avoid comparisons to zombie designs of the 1970s, seen in classic horror films like Rabid and Night of the Living Dead. Cargo strays away from many of the usual clichés associated with the undead, centring its zombie design around an orange pus-like substance that oozes from the infected’s facial orifices rather than the bleeding open wounds the living dead are commonly known for. This distinction is further emphasised through what we see of their behaviour, as the infected are presented as mindless animals more than they are man-eating monsters, requiring dark/damp areas to incubate during the daytime before feasting on whatever wildlife they can find once night falls. Quickly reminding the audience that what they are witnessing is a viral infection, hence why the infected are even nicknamed; “Virals.”

In summary, even if Cargo‘s story could’ve been executed better with a motley of improvements, I feel Cargo is still a creditable entry into the realm of post-apocalyptic storytelling. Standing as a zombie flick with soul and pathos, which, in turn, makes the living dead formidable once again, not because of jump-scares or excessive bloodshed, but because of the film’s biggest drawcard; its sheer humanity. Telling a story that largely revolves around the notion of human determination, seeing how far an individual will go to protect another, even in the bleakest of circumstances. Rating: 7/10.

cargo-poster-1

Hush (2016) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / 1 Comment

“I Can Come In Any Time I Want. And I Can Get You, Anytime I Want. But, I’m Not Going To. Not Until It’s Time. When You Wish You’re Dead… That’s When I’ll Come Inside.” – The Masked Man

Exceptionally gripping in the face of its simplicity, Hush, released in 2016, navigates the bloody waters of the home invasion subgenre to tremendous results. With only five characters and a single location to speak of, the performances and sound design of Hush are both key components in the film’s goal of establishing a disquieting tone, captivating its audience while simultaneously making them dread that the story they are witnessing on-screen could realistically transpire in the most peaceful of surroundings. Certifying Hush as a concise and well-executed horror/thriller, despite the film’s continuous cat-and-mouse pursuits growing a little tiresome by its third act.

Plot Summary: When Maddie, a deaf and mute author, moves to a secluded woodland house in the hope of living a peaceful, solitary life as she writes her second novel, she soon finds her isolated home the target of a deranged, masked killer…

Co-written, directed and even edited by Mike Flanagan, this talented director has been the face of modern horror for many years now, crafting chilling and original genre pieces, such as Oculus, Before I Wake and The Haunting of Hill House. In addition to adapting much of Steven King’s iconic catalogue of horror literature with Gerald’s Game and Doctor Sleep. Hush, however, was one of the director’s earlier projects, with Flanagan conceiving the storyline whilst on a dinner date with his co-writer/leading actress Kate Siegel in 2014, not long before the pair married in 2016. To get a better understanding of the film, Siegel and Flanagan even role-played each scene in their house before writing them into the screenplay, enabling them to envision how the characters would react in the face of danger, a method that I feel ultimately paid off.

Although the lead role of Hush seems tailor-made for a hearing-impaired actress, Kate Siegel portrays Maddie divinely as a quick-witted heroine who keeps the audience on her side at all times. Continuously thinking on her feet, overcoming some of the obstacles associated with her disability, and using her hearing impairment to her advantage whenever possible, it’s easy to root for Maddie to triumph over her assailant. John Gallagher Jr. is also as stellar as the mysteriously motivated antagonist; a character only ever referred to as the “Masked Man.” Who, throughout the film, we learn enjoys playing mind games with his victims, receiving some kind of fetishistic pleasure from toying with those he’s about to slaughter. In many ways, the Masked Man shares similarities to the horror icon, Michael Myers, with his motivation for killing never being stated and his costume consisting primarily of an unadorned white mask, which only adds to the character’s intrigue.

Whilst a substantial portion of the cinematography by James Kniest is hand-held, removing the possibility of Hush standing as one of Mike Flanagan’s most visually impressive films. The fluidity of Hush‘s camerawork does allow the audience to follow Maddie as she wanders through her contemporary home, the camera tracking her every movement as she enters and exits various rooms on impulse. However, a major shortcoming of the film’s visuals is certainly it’s lighting, as due to all of the narrative taking place at night, it makes sense that Hush would be quite gloomy lighting-wise. Yet, most shots are seemingly over-lit, considering the characters are supposed to be in a dense woodland area in the dead of night.

At times peaceful, at times aggressive, the original score for Hush, composed by The Newton Brothers, greatly enhances the story at many points, as tracks like Maddie, Intruder, Against the Glass and Crossbow, are all incredibly atmospheric. And even if the score lacks a predominant track that could be regarded as the film’s theme in years to come, Hush‘s soundtrack still more than serves its purpose, especially when taking into account the film’s reliance on sound as opposed to a non-diegetic score.

Since the protagonist of Hush is both deaf and mute, the film contains less than fifteen minutes of dialogue. Therefore, with a runtime of around eighty-two minutes, Hush harbours more than seventy minutes of screen-time without a single word spoken. This set-up provides Mike Flanagan with a perfect opportunity to play with sound in creative ways, removing the audio entirely (except for an ultrasound machine) in some scenes to put the audience into Maddie’s position and deliver a sudden jolt when appropriate. Thus, avoiding the common horror cliché of having nonsensical, ear-piercing jump-scares for no apparent reason. Through the sound design, we also learn more regarding Maddie’s character, as she hears the echoing voice of her deceased mother whispering to her. Her voice usually aids Maddie in conjuring up endings for her novels, but, in this case, her mother’s ghostly voice lays out her options on how to approach her current, precarious situation.

In summary, Hush is a sharp, violent and finely-tuned horror/thriller that goes down familiar paths yet with flair and skill, never reinventing the wheel, but proving that the genres it’s drawing from still have firm legs. From the Masked Man toying with Maddie as he steals her phone and sends pictures to her laptop to Maddie rapidly locking all of her windows and doors before the killer can enter. Hush is undoubtedly a compelling story with an excess of suspenseful moments, its superb sound design only adding to its appeal as the film regularly comes close to being a sensory-deprivation experience. Rating: high 7/10.

hush_xxlg

Legend (2015) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / 1 Comment

“Me and My Brother, We’re Gonna Rule London!” – Ronald ‘Ronnie’ Kray

Recognised as some of the most notorious gangsters in British history, Ronald ‘Ronnie’ Kray and Reginald ‘Reggie’ Kray were identical twin brothers and the foremost perpetrators of organised crime in the East End of London during the 1960s. With the help of their gang, known as the Firm, the Krays were involved in numerous murders, armed robberies, protection rackets, arsons and assaults. And, in 1965, as West End nightclub owners, the Krays even mingled with politicians and prominent entertainers, subsequently becoming ’60s icons themselves before both brothers were ultimately arrested and sentenced to life imprisonment in 1967. Therefore, even if the twin crimelords were convicted murderers, their rise to power was ripe for a cinematic interpretation, and 2015’s Legend more than succeeds in converting the brothers’ riotous downfall into an enthralling biopic, thanks largely to Tom Hardy’s mesmerising dual performance.

Plot Summary: Identical twins, Ronald ‘Ronnie’ Kray and Reginald ‘Reggie’ Kray, have risen through the ranks of the criminal underworld in 1960s London, with Ronnie advancing the family business through violence and intimidation, while Reggie struggles to go legitimate with his girlfriend, Frances Shea. But, with Detective Superintendent Leonard Read hot on their heels, Ronnie’s unpredictable tendencies along with the slow disintegration of Reggie’s relationship, threaten to bring the brothers’ criminal empire tumbling to the ground…

Written and directed by Brian Helgeland (Payback, A Knight’s Tale, Man on Fire), Legend is partially an adaptation of the true-crime book; The Profession of Violence: The Rise and Fall of the Krays Twins by John Pearson. I say ‘partly’ as the film (unlike the book) begins well into the Kray’s criminal career, steering clear of the twins’ East End childhood, their early days as boxers or their time spent behind bars during National Service. Even the pair’s beloved mother, Violet Lee Kray, is barely glimpsed outside of one or two scenes, seemingly unaware of her boys’ violent actions. And whilst this could be seen as a positive, as Legend doesn’t waste any of its runtime on frivolous flashbacks to the twins’ adolescence, it could also be seen as a negative, as I feel that witnessing the Kray’s childhood would’ve provided a clear view of their personalities before their rampant path of butchery began.

Taking on dual roles for the film, Tom Hardy had thirty-five filming days in which he had to portray both brothers, meaning Hardy would have to film scenes as the twin who had the most dialogue first, then return to hair and make-up to be transformed into the opposing twin. Originally, Hardy was only offered the role of Reggie, but Brian Helgeland was persuaded to let Hardy tackle the role of Ronnie, as well. I’d say this was for the best, as Tom Hardy taking on both roles not only adheres to the idea of the Krays being identical twins, but truly allows him to display his full acting range, continually upstaging himself as he switches from brother to brother on a dime. The rest of the cast, including Emily Browning, Taron Egerton, Paul Anderson, David Thewlis and Christopher Eccleston, is also marvellous in their supporting roles, whether they are in pursuit or service of the Krays.

Exceedingly lavish in its presentation, Legend often possesses the tone of an American gangster epic like Goodfellas and Casino, despite being so distinctly British, contrasting its bloodletting and depravity with elegant shots from cinematographer Dick Pope, in addition to plenty of wonderful set-dressing as the film was shot almost entirely on location, with very few sets used. The camerawork also allows for a few long takes, with Reggie and Frances’ first evening out together being one continuous five-minute and forty-second shot.

When it comes to the original score by Carter Burwell, tracks such as Legend, Elegy for Frances and Your Race is Run, serve their purpose effectively as part of the narrative. The main focus of Legend‘s soundtrack, however, is the film’s long list of recognisable songs, which further help cement the story within the 1960s time period. And whoever compiled this soundtrack clearly has a great deal of expertise in that area, not only in selecting songs that one would hope to hear from a film set in the swinging sixties, like Green Onions and Cissy Strut, but also in selecting long-forgotten gems.

From costumes to vehicles to props, the production design throughout Legend is again nothing short of exceptional. To the extent that even Ronnie and Reggie’s tailored suits are almost indistinguishable from the suits the twins wore in real life. Additionally, the utilisation of digital compositing and body doubles for whenever two versions of Tom Hardy are required on-screen at one time rarely has a faulty moment, auspiciously tricking the audience at multiple points.

In summary, while most will agree that any glorification of real-world criminals is questionable, with Legend often having a mythologist and, at times, even romanticised approach to its low-life protagonists, the film is a well-crafted biopic, nonetheless. Through its retro style, brilliant production design and copious comedic moments, Legend is a solid crime-drama even in spite of its occasionally overblown scenes or on-the-nose song choices, such as Chapel of Love for Reggie and Frances’ wedding. But, the main reason to watch Legend is unquestionably the spectacular dual performance from Tom Hardy, who confidently steals every scene he appears in. Rating: 7/10.

legend-p1006732