Release Year: 2015

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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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.

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Room (2015) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“There Are So Many Things Out Here. And Sometimes It’s Scary. But, That’s Ok. Because It’s Still Just You and Me…” – Jack

Based on the best-selling novel of the same name by Emma Donoghue, 2015’s Room is a captivating and immensely well-crafted drama, guided by a pair of astonishing performances from Brie Larson and the young Jacob Tremblay. Simultaneously showcasing the best and worst of humanity, Room undoubtedly begins in a very dark place narrative-wise, but that doesn’t necessarily make it a bleak film, as Room is filled with just as many uplifting moments as it has sombre ones. Ultimately making for a harrowing yet equally rewarding piece of both filmmaking and storytelling.

Plot Summary: Held captive for seven years by a rapist, eventually giving birth to a baby boy. Joy Newsome, and her now five-year-old son, Jack, spend their days trapped inside a small room, this enclosed space being the only world Jack has ever known. Knowing that Jack’s growth has made their situation precarious, however, Joy, with the help of her son, orchestrates an escape plan in the hope that they can finally gain their freedom…

Maintaining the same narrative stance as the novel the film is based upon, much of Room‘s story is told from the perspective of Jack, with many of the plot points being childishly interpreted as the sheltered youngster can barely comprehend much of what he sees. By telling its story from the point of view of a child, the film is able to easily differentiate Jack’s distorted understanding of the world from the real world that lies just outside his view, all the while leaving the more unsettling aspects of the story, such as Joy’s abduction and subsequent sexual abuse, to be tastefully implied as opposed to occurring on-screen, as those events transpire out of Jack’s presence/eyesight.

Predominantly shot in chronological order to make it easier for the then-eight-year-old Jacob Tremblay to perform as his character matures. The pairing of Brie Larson and Tremblay as mother and son is no doubt one of the best elements of Room, as the pairs’ performances are astoundingly believable, with the development of their characters only furthering this sense of realism. To Jack, the ten-foot square room he and his mum live within is the entire world, where objects such as a table, a rug and a wardrobe are the only ones of their kind. Whereas for Joy (repeatedly referred to as “Ma” by her son), this room is her prison. A cell in which she has been kept for over seven years since she was kidnapped at seventeen by a man who has raped her countless times, ultimately fathering Jack. Yet, through sheer willpower and the love she harbours for her son, Joy keeps all these harsh truths to herself. And throughout the runtime, Larson turns in a tragically punishing performance to match this broken yet incredibly resilient character, finding courage from the need to protect her child from the enormity of their tormentor, only ever referred to as “Old Nick.” With that in mind, it’s not too much of a surprise that Larson later went on to win an Oscar for her performance in 2016.

Shot over a period of ten weeks, the first month of Room‘s production primarily took place inside a tiny set with immovable walls. As such, director Lenny Abrahamson (Adam & Paul, Frank, The Little Stranger) and his crew had to work entirely within the confines of the limited space. Nevertheless, the cinematography by Danny Cohen still manages to remarkably capture the innocent outlook of childhood, employing a number of low-angled close-ups in just the right shaft of light to illustrate how Jack finds enjoyment in his everyday life. Many of these shots also display the grubby surfaces and worn objects in the claustrophobic space Jack and his mother reside, reminding the audience that this sealed room is closer to a dungeon than an inviting family quarter.

Similar to the narrative itself, the original score by Stephen Rennicks is the perfect combination of beauty and trepidation, with some tracks, most notably; Opening, Mouse, In the World and New End, standing as beautiful piano-led pieces that bring a level of warm comfort. Whilst other tracks, like I’m Scared and Roll Up, are much more atmospheric and even somewhat unnerving. In many ways, these two types of tracks could be seen as representations of Jack and Joy, respectively, as the piano melodies are direct and naïve with very little room for movement, a.k.a. Jack. While the violin arrangements could be personified as Joy, being mature, tense and somewhat damaged.

In terms of its structure, Room is a film that is largely divided into two halves. And whilst I don’t want to reveal too much regarding how the plot develops, I will note that the film does lose some of the dramatic steam it builds up in the first half of its story due to a substantial change in the direction and tone of its latter half.

In summary, Room is undeniably a depressing and challenging viewing at points, but it’s also more sanguine in its storytelling than many may expect from a film with such a horrific setup. Through its tremendous performances, thoughtful use of visuals and detailed sets, Room is a terrific drama (and an effective thriller) that explores the uncomfortable topic of abduction from a unique perspective. Formulating a tear-jerking adaptation that occasionally makes too much room for melodrama, but is an expertly told tale, nonetheless. Rating: high 8/10.

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The Martian (2015) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“They Say Once You Grow Crops Somewhere, You Have Officially Colonized It. So, Technically, I Colonized Mars. In Your Face, Neil Armstrong!” – Mark Watney

Based on the best-selling novel of the same name by Andy Weir, which was originally self-published on Weir’s personal blog in a serialised format. The Martian, released in 2015, is a sci-fi drama that combines witty dialogue, stunning cosmic visuals and real-world science to craft a captivating story of survival and innovation. Anchored by a tremendous performance from Matt Damon, The Martian is a cinematic triumph of the science fiction genre, ticking every box that needs to be ticked in this modern era of sci-fi flicks.

Plot Summary: When a fierce storm causes an exploratory mission on Mars to be aborted, astronaut and botanist, Mark Watney, is presumed dead and left behind by his crew. Awakening hours later, injured and alone, Mark is forced to draw upon his wit and scientific ingenuity to endure the hostile surface of the Red Planet. Meanwhile, back on Earth, employees of NASA, alongside a team of international scientists, work around the clock to develop a plan to bring their missing astronaut home…

Just as much a survival thriller as it is a grandiose sci-fi drama, The Martian is directed by Ridley Scott (Blade Runner, Thelma & Louise, Gladiator), who, of course, is no stranger to the science fiction genre, with two of the most notable releases of his filmography being Alien in 1979, and Blade Runner in 1982, both renowned as some of the most iconic sci-fi films of all time. And although The Martian likely won’t reach the same level of recognition in ten years, I would say the film has about the same level of directional skill as those well-known flicks. The unsung hero of the film, however, is the screenwriter/executive producer, Drew Goddard, who laces the story with humour and energy, in addition to approaching much of the scientific exposition in a comprehensible yet never overly simplistic fashion.

The incredible all-star cast of Matt Damon, Jessica Chastain, Jeff Daniels, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Kristen Wiig, Sean Bean, Michael Peña, Kate Mara, Sebastian Stan, Aksel Hennie, Benedict Wong and Donald Glover (among others), are all phenomenal in their various roles. And whilst there are a lot of characters, the story juggles them rather efficiently, never taking too much attention away from Mark Watney’s fight for survival, and subsequently, Damon’s terrific performance, which manages to be both humorous and heartfelt. As far as adaptions go, The Martian also solves one of the novel’s biggest issues, that being Mark’s constant internal monologues to provide the reader with commentary on his situation. The film gets around this by having Mark record video logs, in which he explains the science behind what he needs to do to survive, which again, is never dull thanks to Damon’s ceaseless charisma and dry wit.

Primarily filmed in the Middle Eastern desert of Wadi Rum, Jordan. The gorgeous cinematography by Dariusz Wolski emphasises the solitariness of Mars throughout the film, illustrating just how alone Mark truly is and making his line; “I Am the First Man to Be Alone on an Entire Planet,” seem all the more impactful. Furthermore, the colour palette of The Martian is surprisingly diverse considering the story takes place on the Red Planet. While most of the film retains a burnt orange look, many of the shots on Earth or in outer space form a remarkable contrast to the Mars sequences through their use of whites, greys, greens and blues. Much of the set design is also beautifully crafted, riding a careful line between sci-fi futurism and modern comfort. Interestingly, one of the panoramic shots on Mars displays Olympus Mons, the largest volcano discovered in our solar system. Olympus Mons is almost three times larger than Mount Everest and covers an area roughly the size of the U.S. state of Missouri.

Stylistically, the original score for The Martian is an assortment of soothing synth and the orchestral arrangements composer, Harry Gregson-Williams, is best known for. The most notable tracks are Mars, a stark, oppressive track comprised of synth chords and impressionistic processed effects, depicting the planet as a cold, inhospitable place. Making Water, which feels slightly more playful through its use of harps and optimistic strings. And Crossing Mars, the most triumphant-sounding track of the entire score, ultimately comes across as a little generic as it ditches much of the atmospheric synth in exchange for an orchestral motif.

Amidst its many other qualities, The Martian is also a testament to science being employed rather accurately in a science fiction flick, as despite not every line of the screenplay being scientifically exact due to the story taking place in the near future of 2035, The Martian comes pretty close. In fact, NASA was actually consulted on many aspects of the story, specifically regarding Mars, with the film even being supported in its science by the famed astrophysicist, Neil deGrasse Tyson.

In summary, The Martian isn’t quite a flawless film as the supporting cast sometimes feels under-served, and at one-hundred and forty-one minutes, the runtime is admittedly rather excessive. But, with the exception of these few (and frankly, minor) flaws, The Martian is a rousing story and an expertly crafted film in which the protagonist recognises he is going to die, and then willfully refuses to accept it. It’s an ennobling and uplifting story delivered with sass, allure and intelligence, essentially being everything a story from the science fiction genre should be. Rating: high 8/10.

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The Lobster (2015) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / 1 Comment

“If You Encounter Any Problems You Cannot Resolve Yourselves, You Will Be Assigned Children, That Usually Helps.” – Hotel Manager

Bleak, eccentric and ambitious, The Lobster, released in 2015, is undoubtedly an acquired taste, but for those with the fortitude to crack through the film’s offbeat sensibilities, it should prove a cinematic treat as co-writer and director Yorgos Lanthimos (Dogtooth, The Killing of a Sacred Deer, The Favourite) continuously demonstrates his peculiar style throughout this anomalous black comedy. And although the film does admittedly fall short in its final act as the story loses interest in its animal-transformation premise and abandons its fascinating hotel setting in favour of a less interesting location with equally less interesting characters, this does little to diminish the intrigue of The Lobster‘s unique outlook on human relationships.

Plot Summary: In a dystopian future where, by law, all citizens must have a life companion, single people are taken to the Hotel, where they are obliged to find a romantic partner within forty-five days. Should they fail, they will be transformed into an animal of their choosing and released into the wild where they will hopefully find love with a different species. Inevitably, as the newly divorced architect David enters the luxurious rehabilitation facility, he too must find a suitable partner, or an uncertain future in the wilderness awaits…

Since its initial release, The Lobster has become an intense hub of speculation regarding its true meaning, but the most common theory is that the film is an absurdist look at modern-day coupling, which, if truthful, is similar to the rest of Lanthimos’ filmography which frequently picks apart damaged characters, attempting to expose the raw and volatile relationship between humans and their fragile sensibilities. Immediately from its opening scene, The Lobster also presents an extraordinarily unusual world, a dystopian future that is simultaneously striking, disquieting and darkly comedic without ever appearing overly futuristic. Needless to say, with a world as irregular as this one is, there are still a few lines of dialogue that feel fairly on-the-nose concerning its world-building.

The film’s large cast of Colin Farrel, Rachel Weisz, Léa Seydoux, Ben Whishaw, Jessica Barden, Angeliki Papoulia, Ariane Labed, Olivia Colman and John C. Reilly are all superb throughout the film, intentionally delivering their lines with a complete lack of emotion. Instead, many of the characters present much of what they are feeling on their faces whilst seemingly concealing everything else. This approach works flawlessly when it comes to the film’s comedy, with the numerous quirky characters David interacts with giving matter-of-fact line readings that are extremely difficult not to find amusing. Yet, these constant stabs at dry humour never feel at odds with the story’s more dramatic/romantic moments either as The Lobster tries to gain emotional investment from its audience by making the characters feel distinctly human through the recognisable neuroses that label them despite their emotionless tones.

Visually, The Lobster is rather impressive as the cinematography by Thimios Bakatakis allows nearly every shot to have something poignant to it, with the symmetrical staircases and hallways of the Hotel presenting a world of order in a simplistic yet elegant manner. One hunting scene, in particular, stands out as gorgeous composition, slow-motion and lighting are all used to great effect. This is made even more impressive when considering that the production crew worked without makeup and exclusively utilised natural light. With large-scale lighting set-ups only being employed for a handful of evening scenes.

When it comes to the film’s music, even though The Lobster lacks a traditional original score, the film does feature a tremendous assortment of brittle classical compositions such as String Quartet No. 1 in F Major, Op. 18 and Strauss, R: Don Quixote, Op. 35: Variation: II, both of which give the film a feeling of serenity yet also push much of the story’s tension to the forefront. Quietly damping down the comedic tone that gradually bubbles up through the carefully placed laugh-out-loud one-liners.

Returning to the visuals briefly, The Lobster was primarily filmed in and around the Parknasilla Hotel in Ireland, an ostentatious hotel that is decorated almost entirely with Dutch flower still life from the 1600s. This ageing pattern along with the film’s exceptional use of colour; primarily blues, greens and a few alternate shades of red, including beige-pink, give The Lobster a distinct visual appeal even more so than its cinematography as these colours can even be seen in many of the costumes or mentioned in lines of dialogue, such as the scene where the Short-Sighted Woman says she should wear blue and green clothes or when David mentions that lobsters are “Blue Blooded,” (lobster’s shells also being red, of course).

In summary, while The Lobster is a droll piece of storytelling lashed with grim humour, it also offers a rich, surreal take on modern relationships that you’d be hard-pressed to find anywhere else. As for every moment that makes you laugh, there may be another that leaves you with your mouth wide open. In many ways, The Lobster is as much a black comedy as it is a slice of existential horror, glimpsing into an outrageous yet disturbing future, one that is truly a testament to Lanthimos’ brand of filmmaking and storytelling as he’s able to trump even the most outlandish premise and turn it into an accessible and engrossing narrative. Rating: low 8/10.

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Strange Magic (2015) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / 2 Comments

“Send More Goblins to Cut Down Every Primrose! No Primroses, No Potion. No Potion, No Love. Because Love Is Dangerous. It Weakens… It Rots.” – The Bog King

After selling Lucasfilm to the Walt Disney Company in late 2012, well-established writer-director George Lucas (THX 1138, American Graffiti, Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope), turned his attention away from the mega franchises of Star Wars and Indiana Jones to produce many of his long-gestating passion projects. This ambitious new turn began with the war epic; Red Tails, in 2012, and soon after, Strange Magic in 2015, an animated fantasy musical that Lucas had long wanted to produce for his three daughters, having written an early draft of the story fifteen years earlier. Upon its eventual release, however, Strange Magic was deemed a colossal failure, earning only £9 million at the box office on a budget of approximately £74 million, along with receiving largely negative reviews from critics and audiences alike due to its predictable story, dreadful humour and bizarre song choices. All of which I feel are valid criticisms.

Plot Summary: In a mystical woodland realm where primrose flowers mark the border between two regions; the Fairy Kingdom and the Dark Forest. The undesirable, Bog King, rules over his gloomy domain without love, going so far as to imprison the Sugar Plum Fairy, who is capable of mixing love potions through the use of primroses, in a bid to permanently cease adoration across his domain…

Technically the first Lucasfilm production to be distributed by the Walt Disney Company following its acquisition. The story of Strange Magic is predominantly based on William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream as both narratives are romantic comedies that involve misunderstandings and cross-purposes between different races or, in this case, species. The film also takes inspiration from many well-known fairy tales, including The Ugly Duckling and Beauty and the Beast for its central underlining theme, which focuses on the belief that beauty is only skin deep and internal beauty is far more meaningful. An important message for children, to be sure. But, as a result of this theme being delivered with zero charm or subtlety, the message itself comes across as incredibly forced and even somewhat contradictory thanks to some of the screenplay’s ill-timed gags.

The main voice cast of Alan Cumming, Evan Rachel Wood, Elijah Kelley, Sam Palladio and Meredith Anne Bull all do a sufficient job at lending some personality to their respective characters. Especially since Strange Magic supplies very little in the way of characterisation, with a majority of the animated characters only being set apart from one another by what species they are, e.g. a fairy, elf or goblin, etc. Quite unfortunate as for many characters, there is a solid foundation alluding to what they could’ve been should they have been further developed. For example, Marianne (the closet thing the story has to a protagonist), becomes distrustful of men once she witnesses her fiancée, Roland, cheating on her on the day of their wedding, quickly vowing to never love again and instead dedicate her life to protecting her family, specifically her sister, Dawn, who supposedly falls in love with every man she meets.

Aside from the flavourless designs of the fairies, which appear as if they’ve been yanked from any generic fantasy flick of the early 2000s. The visuals of Strange Magic are by far the film’s finest component with nearly every shot retaining plenty of colour and ingenuity on account of the animated cinematography and the animation itself, which exhibits even the smallest of details right down to the threads on characters’ clothing or the patches of watery moss on tree branches. Yet, this isn’t too surprising considering that Strange Magic was animated by famed visual effects company, Industrial Light & Magic, standing as their first fully animated feature since 2011’s Rango.

Moving from the visuals to the music, Strange Magic is what’s known as a jukebox musical. This means that rather than creating original songs for the film, all of the songs heard throughout Strange Magic are popular songs from past decades. From Can’t Help Falling in Love to Love is Strange and I Can’t Help Myself (Sugar Pie Honey Bunch), the film’s continuous use of on-the-nose songs is undoubtedly what will make or break Strange Magic for most, as older audiences will feel as if they are being pandered to whilst younger audiences will simply be confused as to why none of the songs directly relate to any of the characters/locations within the film. Furthermore, the original score by Marius De Vries is barely distinguishable from any other fantasy score.

On a separate note, although the first entry in the Star Wars saga rarely lacked in world-building when it first introduced audiences to a galaxy far, far away. Strange Magic seems to actively avoid developing its world beyond one or two throwaway lines, establishing the two unimaginatively named regions that reside side-by-side, and not much else as to how this fantastical world functions.

In summary, Strange Magic is a film that feels far too familiar to sing its own tune, with its derivative story coming across as a hodgepodge of well-worn elements from other animated and fantasy films. Most evidently, 2013’s Epic and the everlasting series of animated Tinker Bell flicks. And, as such, there’s virtually nothing about this fractured fairy tale that feels remotely fresh aside from some of its attractive visuals. There are enjoyable moments, of course, but, for the most part, Strange Magic is simply half-hearted and creatively lazy. Rating: high 3/10.

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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.

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The Final Girls (2015) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

An affectionate nod and occasionally parody of 1980s slashers and their associated tropes, ‘The Final Girls,’ released in 2015, may not be as inspired or as tonally consistent as the similarly self-mocking likes of: ‘The Cabin in the Woods,’ ‘Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon’ or the original: ‘Scream.’ But with plenty of humorous moments, some stellar visuals, and a surprisingly strong layer of emotion tying together all of the film’s meta amusement, ‘The Final Girls’ is sure to delight any admirer of the gruesome subgenre, even if the film focuses far more effort towards being a comedy than a horror.

Plot Summary: When ‘Max Cartwright’ and her friends reluctantly attend a tribute screening of the notorious 1980s slasher: ‘Camp Bloodbath,’ a film that starred ‘Max’s late mother, the group are seemingly transported into the cult classic horror. Now, reunited with an on-screen version of her mother, ‘Max’ and her friends must join forces with the ill-fated camp counsellors to confront the film’s machete-wielding killer and survive the ninety-two minute runtime…

Directed by Todd Strauss-Schulson (Drunks vs. Highs, Zombies and Cheerleaders, Isn’t It Romantic) and co-written by M.A. Fortin and Joshua John Miller, ‘The Final Girls’ does a fantastic job of capturing all the aspects of ’80s slashers in a way that highlights the hilarity of their predictability whilst still respecting the subgenre. From one character losing her virginity and thus instantly condemning herself to a violent death, to each of the camp counsellors fitting into one of several slasher stereotypes e.g. ‘The Jock’ and ‘The Harlot’ etc. The screenplay gets plenty of mileage out of playing with the clichés we all know from the slasher films of old, but it’s undeniable that the main influence for: ‘The Final Girls’ is the ‘Friday the 13th’ series, as the films share many, many similarities in everything from structure to sound design.

The cast for: ‘The Final Girls’ is certainly a large one, but due to many of the characters from ‘Camp Bloodbath’ intentionally being written as walking clichés, the film places most of its attention towards developing ‘Max’ and her mother: ‘Amanda,’ portrayed by Taissa Farmiga and Malin Akerman, respectively. And their relationship is where the majority of the story’s poignant scenes come from, as after losing her mother in a tragic car crash three years earlier, ‘Max’ finally sees her chance to save her, or at least, the on-screen version of her through saving the fictional character of: ‘Nancy,’ a sweet-souled, unaware shadow of actress: ‘Amanda Cartwright.’ However, while the pairs’ performances are superb, along with the rest of the cast of Alexander Ludwig, Alia Shawkat, Nina Dobrev, Thomas Middleditch, Angela Trimbur and more. Adam Devine is horribly miscast as ‘Kurt,’ the sportsman-type character, as instead of being an athletic, perverted jock, Devine comes across as far more pathetic and obnoxious than he should, almost as if he isn’t fully aware of what slasher archetype he is supposed to be portraying.

Other than some briefly utilised CGI, which has noticeably aged very poorly. A large portion of the visuals throughout ‘The Final Girls’ are impressive yet not always authentic to the ’80s time-period, as the cinematography by Elie Smolkin allows the camera to swerve, zoom and spin around the characters, all the while, the film’s colour palette is either immensely vibrant or exclusively black and white for whenever a flashback to the killer’s origin story is called for. Moreover, the film features a number of creative sequences including a tooling-up montage and a slow-motion chase, both of which not only add to the film’s style but are also terrifically edited.

Though lacking a central theme like many iconic slashers from the 1980s, the original score by Gregory James Jenkins and Eddy Zak is like a musical time-capsule of sounds that are no longer used within the horror genre. As tracks like ‘The Diaphragm Van’ and ‘Puttin’ It Together’ are easy on the ear synth tracks that whilst competent and reminiscent of ’80s horror scores, never quite manage to surpass any of their inspirations.

Unfortunately, despite all these positives, ‘The Final Girls’ isn’t an impeccable horror-comedy, as even with its brief runtime, the film does lose a bit of steam during its last third or so, as the story begins to fall into less inventive territory as the body-count rises. Still, the screenwriters do still find ways to integrate a clever surprise or two, such as the cliffhanger ending which alludes towards the prospect of a money-grubbing sequel titled: ‘Camp Bloodbath 2: Cruel Summer.’ The second primary issue ‘The Final Girls’ suffers from is its almost complete absence of violence/gore, as aside from one or two shots of dripping blood, for a slasher, ‘Camp Bloodbath’ seems fairly family-friendly, which, in my opinion, is a huge misstep in light of the slasher subgenre being well-known for its excessive amounts of blood and guts.

Overall, with much of the ‘The Final Girls’ essentially being a film-within-a-film, it’s entirely plausible that this horror-comedy could’ve declined into nothing but constant fourth-wall-breaking jokes and pop-culture references. Yet through its engaging story and facetious writing, ‘The Final Girls’ successfully deconstructs the slasher subgenre without the cynicism that could render a comedy into a unsurprising, humourless snore. Final Rating: 7/10.

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Harbinger Down (2015) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

In 2010, practical effects company Amalgamated Dynamics (or ADI for short) was hired by Universal Pictures to create effects for their upcoming prequel to the 1984 classic: ‘The Thing,’ but just before the film was released, the majority of ADI’s work was digitally replaced by CGI. This decision greatly upset the Amalgamated Dynamics team, especially since ‘The Thing’ wasn’t the first film they had worked on only to later discover their effects had been replaced. So, in response to queries about what became of their effects, the founders of Amalgamated Dynamics uploaded a behind-the-scenes video to YouTube which showcased their original effects, and the overwhelmingly positive response they received began a new phase for the company, as soon after, ADI began a Kickstarter with the intention of creating their own sci-fi-horror titled: ‘Harbinger Down,’ a film that would exclusively employ practical techniques.

Plot Summary: While studying the effects of global warming on a pod of belugas in the Bering Sea, grad students on a crabbing vessel fortuitously uncover a Soviet space shuttle buried within layers of ice. But when the ship’s crew bring the Soviet wreckage aboard, they unintentionally release a long-dormant extraterrestrial parasite that relies on the warmth of the human body to survive…

Commonly known by its alternate title: ‘Inanimate.’ ‘Harbinger Down’ was written, directed and produced by Amalgamated Dynamics co-founder Alec Gillis. And although I have a huge admiration for Gillis and his partner Tom Woodruff, Jr. as the duo courageously opposed the mammoth production companies that no longer respected the art of practical effects, ‘Harbinger Down’ frequently suffers as a result of the pairs’ lack of experience when it comes to filmmaking, as is it’s not uncommon to see exaggerated performances, cliché dialogue and messy editing. Furthermore, ‘Harbinger Down’ like many sci-fi-horrors takes plenty of inspiration from ‘The Thing,’ though in this case, this inspiration is a little too evident in the final film, as many story-beats are either extremely similar or a stark contrast in an attempt to avoid comparisons, such as the creature being maimed by liquid nitrogen rather than fire.

Eminent ‘Aliens’ and ‘Pumpkinhead’ actor Lance Henriksen headlines the film, being by far the most prominent performer present, and suitably gives a stand-out performance due to his raspy authority and effortless professionalism. Just like the rest of the cast of forgettable stock characters, however, Henriksen is given very little to work with, only being able to portray his character: ‘Graff’ as an adept ship captain who cares deeply for his astute granddaughter: ‘Sadie,’ sufficiently portrayed by Camille Balsamo.

The film’s cinematography by Benjamin L. Brown does allow for one or two attractive shots, yet because of its over-reliance on hand-held techniques often feels frantic, again playing into the idea of Gillis’ deficiency of filmmaking experience, as whilst Alec Gillis may know how to fabricate outstanding effects, he doesn’t seem sure how to capture them on film or hide them when necessary. And, as such, the effects on-screen soon become gluttonous, holding on certain shots until the point when the effects begin to appear fake and rubbery. That being said, the film’s setting and production design are brilliant without fault, as the film manages to craft the convincing illusion that the characters are all confined to ‘The Harbinger,’ a vessel that has indeed been set adrift on frigid waters.

Nowhere close to memorable, Christopher Drake’s intense original score does at least add to the film’s atmosphere, but where the score succeeds, the sound design utterly fails. As in addition to numerous areas of the ship utilising time-worn sound effects, the story’s shapeshifting creature rarely makes any sound beyond generic grunts and growls, none of which are menacing nor daunting, and considering the film had a budget of over £250.000, refining the sound design couldn’t have been that arduous of a task.

Needless to say, all the traction that ‘Harbinger Down’ gained was likely on account of its practical effects, which make use of everything from animatronics to prosthetic make-up to stop-motion and even miniatures, all of which are marvellous to see, particularly for those who enjoy films with little reliance on CGI, as the film’s creature relies on no digital animation whatsoever outside of rod/rig removal. However, as mentioned previously, the way some of these effects are presented occasionally takes away their impact. Another issue arises with the creature design itself, as every form the creature takes is entirely different from its prior appearance, so the creature never has the chance to fully borrow into the audience’s mind as a recognisable extraterrestrial antagonist.

To conclude, ‘Harbinger Down’ ultimately falls somewhere between a cheesy SyFy Channel flick and a better than average direct-to-video product, which is unfortunate. As for myself, a fan of ’80s creature-features, I truly wanted this low-budget claustrophobic horror to triumph, but as a result of its long list of flaws, many of the film’s practical effects (and the scenes in which they are employed) tend to just be echoes of well-known moments in better films. Be that as it may, ‘Harbinger Down’ does have a captivating backstory when it comes to its creation and the passionate team behind it. Final Rating: low 3/10.

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Slow West (2015) – Film Review

/ Joe Baker / Leave a comment

Musicians have long been drawn to the cinematic tales of the Old West, whether that’s the singing cowboys of early sound cinema with big-screen Elvis vehicles such as: ‘Flaming Star’ and ‘Charro!’ or Glen Campbell’s first step into the scorching deserts of New Mexico for the 1969 classic: ‘True Grit,’ the western genre has always seemed like a second home for musicians regardless of their stature. So, its no surprise that in 2015, part-time musician and part-time music video director John Maclean brought his own vision to the genre with ‘Slow West,’ a subversive story of death and devotion brimming with natural beauty, unsettling violence and a distinctly Coen-esque flavour of bleak, deadpan humour.

Plot Summary: In 1870, a naive Scottish teenager travels to Colorado in pursuit of the woman he loves, whilst there, he attracts the attention of an outlaw who is willing to serve as his guide across the county. Little does he know, not only does his beloved have a sizeable bounty on her head, but his seemingly helpful guide is actually hiding his true motive…

Described as “An Unconventional Western” by most. ‘Slow West’ was developed and co-financed by Film4, along with receiving some additional funding from the British Film Institute, Fulcrum Media Finance, the New Zealand Film Commission, and production company A24. However, while all this financial support may leave you thinking that writer and director John Maclean has previously produced a number of incredible films, ‘Slow West’ is actually Maclean’s directorial debut, as first and foremost Maclean is a Scottish musician, which does help explain some of the film’s peculiarities. As according to John Maclean, the original idea for: ‘Slow West’ came from a desire to link the British costume drama of a Merchant Ivory film with that of the American western, which is certainly a very interesting concept, even if this approach doesn’t always result in the smoothest or most emotionally impactful story-beats.

Leading the cast, Michael Fassbender as bounty hunter: ‘Silas Selleck’ and Kodi Smit-McPhee as sixteen-year-old: ‘Jay Cavendish’ both do a phenomenal job of bouncing off each other, as ‘Silas’ is a grizzled recluse with little faith in humanity, believing the west is simply a land of murder and theft, a land where everyone will stab you in the back the moment you turn around, whereas ‘Jay’ is the complete opposite of this, an optimistic young lad from an aristocratic family, woefully unprepared for the dangers that lie ahead yet trusts his enervating journey will be worthwhile just to see his beloved ‘Rose’ once again. And despite these characters being endlessly entertaining to watch, ‘Silas’ character-arc does feel a little rushed in the grand scheme of things, along with Caren Pistorius and Ben Mendelsohn barely getting a chance to shine due to their character’s limited screen-time.

Shot on digital when originally planned to be shot on 35mm, the cinematography of: ‘Slow West’ handled by Robbie Ryan breaks many of the conventions we associate with western visuals similar to how the narrative has a wizened grasp of when to embrace or reject a western cliché, as ‘Slow West’ ditches the usual western colour palette of beiges and browns for a much more vibrant look. Furthermore, as opposed to being shot in Colorado where the story takes place, the film was actually shot in the South Island of New Zealand, meaning the film has no shortage of stunning vistas, even if, in reality, the film couldn’t have been shot further away from where the American West was located.

The original score by Jed Kurzel isn’t overly memorable or unique, but does suit the film’s many moments of dark comedy remarkably well, as the score utilises a wide array of different instruments to give the soundtrack a bygone western feel, ensuring the original score stays within its 1800s setting and the confines of slow and drawn-out tracks such as: ‘Jay’s Theme’ and ‘The Trading Post,’ which were very common during the golden age of Hollywood when westerns were at their peak.

Alongside a suitable original score, another crucial element to crafting a great western will always been production design, as any film that can make their audience feel as if they have actually travelled back to the story’s time-period has surely succeeded. And director John Maclean makes it clear early on that he understands this, as even in spite of the budget for: ‘Slow West’ being fairly minimal (especially for a western), the film’s production design is often superb, with Maclean taking influence from classic westerns like ‘Iron Horse’ for the period details of both the film’s costumes and architecture.

On the whole, ‘Slow West’ may pay the price now and then for being helmed by a less-than-experienced writer and director, but for the most part, Maclean triumphs with his first cinematic outing, as ‘Slow West’ reaps the rewards of taking the road less-travelled, relishing in the telling of the tale as much as the tale itself. And whilst perhaps not on the same level as a Coen brother’s western, ‘Slow West’ exudes such confidence with its casual weirdness and abundance of ripping performances, subsequently resulting in an unpredictable yet still wildly compelling modern western. Final Rating: 7/10.

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