The Festival (2018) – Film Review

20th April 202420th April 2024 / Joe Baker / 1 Comment

“There Are a Hundred Thousand People There. The Chances of Bumping into Her Are a Million to One…” – Shane Stubbs

Having conquered British television with three series of the quintessential adult sitcom; The Inbetweeners, the comic duo of Damon Beesley and Iain Morris turned their attention to producing cinematic comedies in a similar vain, following that series’ two follow-up films with The Inbetweeners Movie (2011) and The Inbetweeners 2 (2014). Their next attempt at a humorous hit was 2018’s The Festival, a British comedy centring around the re-formative experience of attending a music festival for the first time, complete with the return of The Inbetweeners‘ star, Joe Thomas, and director Iain Morris (The Inbetweeners 2). However, while the film does have its share of absurd misadventures and self-abasing nudity, The Festival doesn’t quite manage to capture the three-day lunacy of an actual festival experience, failing to live up to the comedic reputation of the iconic sitcom that preceded it.

Plot Summary: When Nick’s girlfriend, Caitlin, breaks up with him on the day of their university graduation, Nick’s best friend, Shane, persuades him to attend a monumental music festival to get over her, eager to meet his favourite masked DJ, Hammerhead. But, after running into Caitlin and her friends at the festival, the pair’s weekend quickly begins to descend into one of misery and madness…

Written by Keith Akushie and Joe Parham, The Festival is a comedy about friendship, maturing and enjoying the brief time we get in life. Of course, being a comedy, these underlying themes are largely pushed back to focus on its humour rather than its narrative or more intimate character moments, leading to scenes like Nick getting his nipple pierced, spending a drug-fuelled night with a girl outfitted as a Smurf and being chased through the festival grounds by security, sporting only his boxers. And, although some of these comedic set pieces are amusing, other gags feel as if they needed a bit more screen-time to wring out all of their comedic potential. That is, excluding the many gross-out moments, which consistently come across as lazy and unwarranted.

Following this routine ‘getting-over-the-girl’ storyline, protagonist Nick Taylor, portrayed by Joe Thomas, is remarkably similar to Thomas’ character in The Inbetweeners series, Simon Cooper, a selfish, uptight teenager whose sorrows narrowly outweigh his unlikeable traits as he tries anything and everything to win back his ex-girlfriend, Caitlin, portrayed by Hannah Tointon. Meanwhile, Nick’s best friend, Shane, and festival aficionado/certified oddball, Amy, admirably portrayed by Hammed Animashaun and Claudia O’Doherty, respectively, attempt to get Nick to embrace the music and the mud, getting into a few bizarre situations themselves. Additionally, The Festival lends some pizzazz to the often overused ’embarrassing stepdad’ archetype character via the casting of New Zealand actor and comedian, Jemaine Clement, lending the well-meaning father figure a genuine sense of care for his stepson as well as delightful line delivery. Interestingly, the previously mentioned Joe Thomas and Hannah Tointon are, in actuality, engaged and have been in a relationship since 2010.

Partially shot at Bestival and Leeds Festival, with actual festival goers being used as extras for the scenes requiring enormous crowds, the film’s cinematography, handled by Simon Tindall, allows for a number of visually pleasing and colourful shots. The film, however, does little to visually differentiate itself from other modern comedies, aside from its opening titles, which creatively appear on an array of vibrant, crinkled title cards inspired by stylistic festival line-up posters, fittingly backed by a surplus of authentic footage of festival goers dancing, socialising, drinking and face painting.

Hardly ever present for the bulk of the runtime, the original score by Rael Jones is an element of the film that I cannot even review, in its entirety, as the score simply isn’t utilised enough. Instead, the film suitably employs a variety of songs that wouldn’t seem out of place at an actual music festival, ranging from swinging indie classics to contemporary dance anthems, such as Do You Know Me? and Blaze Up the Fire.

In the tradition of comedy franchises like the American Pie series, The Festival also serves as somewhat of a modern satire of adolescent angst and foolishness, appearing actually rather saccharine beneath its scatological surface, gently mocking yet ultimately painting a buoyant portrait of its target audience, teenagers, with much of the humour deriving from awkward juvenile situations, like peer group shaming, discomfiting parental over-sharing and clashes with adult authority figures. Still, there is a good quantity of jokes aimed towards a slightly older audience, including a sly homage to The Elephant Man (1980) and a running gag regarding Jemaine Clement’s fellow cultural icons, Crowded House, a New Zealand/Australian rock band.

In summary, upon watching, its apparent that The Festival is trying to capture the immature charm of The Inbetweeners series, but the writing just isn’t strong enough to grasp its crude essence, particularly in relation to its characters, none of which are anywhere near as memorable as Will, Simon, Jay or Neil. And, if truth be told, with the film sharing many tonal similarities and Joe Thomas’ performance feeling so reminiscent of his portrayal of Simon Cooper, I honestly don’t see why The Festival couldn’t have simply been a spin-off of The Inbetweeners series, functioning as a stand-alone story set after the events of the previous instalments. Nevertheless, if you occasionally desire a lower-budget British comedy with constant witticisms regarding sex, drugs and overflowing toilets, then The Festival might suffice, despite its faults. Rating: 5/10.

The House That Jack Built (2018) – Film Review

23rd July 202324th September 2023 / Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“The Old Cathedrals Often Have Sublime Artworks Hidden Away in the Darkest Corners for Only God to See. The Same Goes for Murder.” – Jack

Whether writing screenplays that contain scenes of self-administered clitorectomies or expressing Nazi sympathy at press conferences, the controversial yet distinguished writer-director Lars von Trier (Dogville, Antichrist, Melancholia) loves to cause headlines, with shock value frequently being employed as one of his greatest tools, often accentuating the underlying themes of his filmography. The House That Jack Built, released in 2018, is perhaps von Trier’s most distressing film to date, however, presenting the filmmaker at his most unfiltered and uncompromising. As such, for some, the film will serve as a captivating arthouse piece that delves into the layers of a serial killer’s mind, while for others, The House That Jack Built will seem like nothing more than an insensitive, tasteless horror flick brimming with disturbing moments, all in service of a lumpen statement that has been better cinematically expressed elsewhere.

Plot Summary: Reflecting on his existence, Jack, a failed architect and sadistic serial killer, describes his twelve-year reign of terror to Verge, his unseen, enigmatic companion, illuminating the significance of his systematic atrocities by recounting five randomly chosen incidents from his blood-spattered past…

Premiering at the Cannes International Film Festival on May 14th, 2018, The House That Jack Built was reported to have more than a hundred audience members (including some critics) walk out during its premiere, despite a six-minute standing ovation following the screening. Furthermore, some of the resentful audience members condemned the film afterwards on social media for its relentless violence and nihilistic tone. Although I’m usually not one to get offended by media, The House That Jack Built is a film where I can, at least, understand why some take issue with the flick, as the film effectively promotes the idea that life is cruel and soulless, whilst simultaneously playing upon many ‘hot topic’ political assertions, primarily around the American politician, media personality and 45th president of the United States, Donald Trump. This persistent fatalistic outlook, along with its excessive runtime and unsettling violence, ensures that The House That Jack Built harbours minimal appeal for general audiences, even if much of the potentially contentious commentary gets buried beneath the film’s many other aspects.

Boasting about his achievements to an unseen, accented man known as Verge, the titular, obsessive-compulsive engineer, Jack, portrayed by Matt Dillion, appears unhinged yet astute straight from the opening scene, as he circumstantially describes five haphazardly chosen events from his life, all of which involve gruesome murders. From there, the film spends little time on Jack’s upbringing or the circumstances that led him to such a depraved place, but instead concentrates purely on the unconnected series of incidents where Jack slaughters his victims. Through these scenes, you can see Dillon slowly losing himself in the role as he spectacularly portrays Jack as an authentic, twisted psychopath who possesses no redeeming qualities or childhood trauma in an attempt to connect with the audience. Additionally, the supporting cast of Bruno Ganz, Uma Thurman, Siobhan Fallon Hogan and Sofie Gråbøl are all adequate in their various roles, usually as screaming, hapless victims.

A hefty portion of the cinematography by Manuel Alberto Claro, unfortunately, leaves much to be desired as the film is shot in an almost documentary-like fashion, predominantly relying on hand-held close-ups and mid-shots, where characters repeatedly pass in front of the frame, obscuring the audience’s view. As a result, The House That Jack Built has a noticeable deficiency of attractive shots and is continuously dimly lit, causing many scenes to blend together. That being said, the film does include a handful of brief animated sequences that are invariably visually interesting, in addition to an intriguing assemblage of archival footage/images for whenever Jack refers to fortes like architecture or winemaking.

Exceedingly unremarkable, the original score by Víctor Reyes is barely discernable for most of the scenes it’s featured within. Thankfully, the song choices throughout the runtime manage to audibly enhance the film somewhat, as songs like Fame by David Bowie support the story’s implied 1970s time period while classic French overture pieces, such as Partita No. 2 in C Minor, BWV 826 and The Four Seasons – Concerto No. 3 in F Minor, RV 293, heavily contrast with the ghastly violence on-screen, making a few of Jack’s killings seem darkly comedic.

Regarding the film’s graphic violence, I would argue that it could be excused in this case, given the narrative revolves around an unfeeling mass murder, an inherently frightening yet compelling subject matter that has been covered many times before in cinema with a comparable level of violence, most notably in the horror/black comedy classic; American Psycho (2000).

In summary, unlike a few other horror flicks that attempt to dive into the headspace of a serial killer, The House That Jack Built truly pulls no punches, depicting a self-examining, metaphor-heavy story of a man disguising his shortage of worthwhile contribution with violent self-interest. Throughout the film, Lars von Trier essentially grabs the audience’s head and shoves it into a vortex of anguish, unconcerned about whether it will appeal to the masses. For that reason, the film is not one I would recommend lightly, as if not swept up in the interpretative storytelling of The House That Jack Built, this sickening arthouse flick will likely carry the allure of a lengthy therapy session as it lacks the magnetism of some of von Trier’s other work. Rating: 6/10.

Outstanding Original Scores in Cinema – Film List

16th July 202321st July 2023 / Joe Baker / 2 Comments

I’ve always considered original scores to be a very underappreciated element of filmmaking, as many audience members rarely seem to take notice of the beautiful and indelible soundtracks that saturate many scenes throughout cinematic history. These scores serve an important purpose in audibly immersing the audience in a narrative via dramatic, unnerving or sorrowful tracks that evoke deep emotion inside them (even if they aren’t aware of it), greatly enhancing the cinematic experience. Here are some of my personal favourites…

Dune (2021) – Composer, Hanz Zimmer

Favourite Tracks: Herald of the Change, Ripples in the Sand

Drive (2011) – Composer, Cliff Martinez

Favourite Tracks: I Drive, Bride of Deluxe

Jaws (1975) – Composer, John Williams

Favourite Tracks: Main Title and First Victim, Quint’s Tale

Dunkirk (2016) – Composer, Hanz Zimmer

Favourite Tracks: The Mole, Supermarine

WALL-E (2008) – Composer, Thomas Newman

Favourite Tracks: 72 Degrees and Sunny, All That Love’s About

Arrival (2016) – Composer, Jóhann Jóhannsson

Favourite Tracks: Arrival, Kangaru

Halloween (1978) – Composer, John Carpenter

Favourite Tracks: Halloween Theme – Main Title, The Shape Stalks

Ratatouille (2007) – Composer, Michael Giacchino

Favourite Tracks: Ratatouille Main Theme, End Creditouilles

Jurassic Park (1993) – Composer, John Williams

Favourite Tracks: Welcome to Jurassic Park, Journey to the Island

The Neon Demon (2016) – Composer, Cliff Martinez

Favourite Tracks: The Neon Demon, Something’s in My Room

A Ghost Story (2017) – Composer, Daniel Hart

Favourite Tracks: The Secret in the Wall, Safe Safe Safe

Vertigo (1958) – Composer, Bernard Herrmann

Favourite Tracks: Prelude and Rooftop, Carlotta’s Portrait

The Shape of Water (2017) – Composer, Alexandre Desplat

Favourite Tracks: The Shape of Water, Elisa’s Theme

Nocturnal Animals (2016) – Composer, Abel Korzeniowski

Favourite Tracks: Revenge, City Lights

Edward Scissorhands (1990) – Composer, Danny Elfman

Favourite Tracks: Storytime, Ice Dance

The Social Network (2010) – Composers, Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross

Favourite Tracks: In Motion, Painted Sun in Abstract

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) – Composer, Daniel Pemberton

Favourite Tracks: Visions Brooklyn 1, 2, 3, Spider-Man Loves You

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (2001) – Composer, John Williams

Favourite Tracks: Hedwig’s Theme, Diagon Alley and the Gringotts Vault

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) – Composer, Alexandre Desplat

Favourite Tracks: Mr. Moustafa, The War (Zero’s Theme)

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966) – Composer, Ennio Morricone

Favourite Tracks: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, The Ecstasy of Gold

Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009) – Composer, Alexandre Desplat

Favourite Tracks: Mr. Fox in the Fields, Boggis, Bunce and Bean

Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope (1977) – Composer, John Williams

Favourite Tracks: Main Title, The Princess Appears

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023) – Composer, Daniel Pemberton

Favourite Tracks: Spider-Woman (Gwen Stacey), Canon Event

Blade Runner 2049 (2017) – Composers, Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Wallfisch

Favourite Tracks: Tears in the Rain, Blade Runner

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) – Composer, Jon Brion

Favourite Tracks: Theme From Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Bookstore

The Happytime Murders (2018) – Film Review

19th April 20237th July 2023 / Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“Do You Have the Latest Issue of Puppet Pussy Party?” – Phil Philips

Released in 2018, The Happytime Murders was a long-in-development project from the adult-geared alternative arm of the Jim Henson Company, the famed production company behind The Muppet Show, Fraggle Rock, Dinosaurs and many other beloved, family-friendly projects. Yet, unlike those projects, The Happytime Murders squanders its imaginative premise on a witless and raunchy crime-comedy that blindly pushes buttons instead of attempting to tell an entertaining story, to the extent that even under the proficient direction of Brian Henson (The Muppet Christmas Carol, Muppet Treasure Island), son of the late Jim Henson, the film never manages to escape its dreadfully lethargic humour or its foreseeable buddy-cop storyline.

Plot Summary: When the cast of a 1990s sitcom is murdered one by one at the hands of a mysterious figure, Phil Philips, once the Los Angeles Police Department’s first puppet police officer, now a weary private investigator, finds himself dragged into the case. But, as the investigation becomes more and more bewildering, Phil is forced to bury the hatchet with his former human partner, Detective Connie Edwards, in order to prevent more past-their-prime puppets from meeting a grisly end…

Curiously, before the film was released, Sesame Workshop, the non-profit organisation behind the cherished children’s television series; Sesame Street, actually tried to sue The Happytime Murders‘ marketing team on account of one of the film’s taglines; “No Sesame. All Street.” Claiming the film tarnished their child-friendly reputation. However, the suit was ultimately rejected. In many ways, this amusing piece of behind-the-scenes drama is more interesting than the actual narrative of The Happytime Murders, which primarily serves as a witty yet predictable detective mystery where Phil and his partner, Connie, are driven to scour for clues across the sunlit, puppet-populated metropolis of Los Angeles, in the hope of exposing the unbeknownst serial killer. Through this investigation, the film makes many attempts at humour, 90% of which falls short as most of the comedy lazily stems from adorable puppets merely cursing or enjoying more adult activities, such as smoking, sex or drinking alcohol. On a more positive note, the film does, at least, feature a few fragments of absorbing world-building, most notably with how puppets are considered second-class citizens compared to humans, hence why so many puppets eventually become addicts, numbing themselves to the misery of their lives, a detail that is clearly intended as underlying (and underdeveloped) social commentary.

As mentioned previously, The Happytime Murders is, at its core, a parody of classic buddy-cop crime-thrillers, with the alcoholic, blue-felt gumshoe, Phil Philips, skillfully portrayed by Bill Barretta, reluctantly pairing up with his abrasive former partner, Detective Connie Edwards, clumsily portrayed by Melissa McCarthy, after his thespian brother gets inexplicably murdered by an individual intent on wiping out the entire cast of the Happytime Gang, a prevalent ’90s sitcom. All of whom were puppets, aside from the token human cast member, Jenny, portrayed by Elizabeth Banks. And thanks to the spectacular puppetry on display, you quickly forget that Phil, one-half of this investigative tandem, is a glorified hand in a sock. Alas, the characterisation isn’t nearly as impressive as beyond some basic character traits and chucklesome one-liners, both members of the central duo lack depth and frequently come across as obnoxious, especially McCarthy. Regrettably, this issue also extends to the under-utilised supporting cast of Maya Rudolph, Leslie David Baker and Joel McHale.

Akin to many other puppeteering projects, all of the elevated sets utilised during production were built so that the puppeteers could stand on the ground and operate the puppets as if they were standing with straight arms. Yet, even with this information in mind, every set that appears on-screen feels like a real, lived-in location. Unfortunately, the rest of the visuals aren’t as remarkable, as the cinematography by Mitchell Amundsen is immensely bland, over-relying on over-lit close-ups and mid-shots that barely enrich the satire or mystery of the narrative.

Relatively tedious and generic, the bass-heavy original score by Christopher Lennert tries to reflect the jazzy scores of ’70s crime-thrillers yet rarely succeeds in forming any truly memorable tracks of its own. Similarly, songs like Sexy and I Know It and Low Rider seem almost arbitrary in their placements within the runtime, usually throwing off the tone of whatever scenes where they are featured.

In regard to the puppets themselves, it’s intriguing to note that a grand total of one hundred and twenty-five puppets were used during the film’s production, with around forty of those puppets being created specifically for the film. As a result, every puppet that emerges from scene to scene is visually unique, retaining its own colour, fabric, style, and personality. Once again, it’s just a shame that the gags and dialogue that emit from each felt character’s mouth are so sluggish, continuously giving off the impression that the film is trying far too hard to be risqué.

In summary, The Happytime Murders is a crime-comedy harbouring far too many lousy jokes, with the genuinely clever gags being few and far between. As such, the only thing that can be declared for certain when it comes to The Happytime Murders is the fact that with its countless scenes of drug-snorting and depraved puppet sex (not to mention an extremely drawn-out ejaculation sequence), it’s worth emphasising that this puppet-led comedy is not one for youngsters. Still, it’s not as if they’re missing out on much. Rating: low 4/10.

Welcome to Marwen (2018) – Film Review

22nd March 20237th July 2023 / Joe Baker / Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Action Point (2018) – Film Review

9th February 20239th July 2023 / Joe Baker / Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Overlord (2018) – Film Review

11th January 20239th July 2023 / Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“Three Months Ago, I Was Cutting Grass On My Front Yard. The Mailman Shows up With a Letter From the Army. Now, I’m Here, and I Have No Idea Where I’m Going to End Up.” – Private. Edward Boyce

Initially thought to be the fourth instalment in the Cloverfield franchise, an anthology-like series featuring the projects of Cloverfield, 10 Cloverfield Lane and The Cloverfield Paradox. Producer J.J Abrams later confirmed at New York City CinemaCon in 2018 that the war-horror hybrid flick, Overlord, would not be part of the series, despite being produced under the same production company, Bad Robot Productions. In a similar vein to the Cloverfield franchise, however, Overlord frequently appears disjointed and underwhelming in its effort to combine many diverse genres and ideas in a World War II gore-fest.

Plot Summary: On the eve of D-Day, a squad of American paratroopers is dropped behind enemy lines with the mission of penetrating the walls of a fortified local church and destroying the radio-jamming tower inside. But, as the soldiers approach their target, they soon discover that the Nazis are conducting a series of ungodly experiments in a hidden laboratory beneath the church. Experiments that could change the tide of the Second World War…

Evidently inspired by the renowned video game multiplayer mode, Call of Duty: Zombies. Overlord, directed by Julius Avery (Son of a Gun, Samaritan), grounds its absurdist story around a real military operation; “Operation: Overlord,” a code name for the Allied mission for the Battle of Normandy, which launched the successful invasion of Nazi-occupied Europe. This procedure, alongside “Operation: Neptune,” would become known as D-Day. This connection to the factual history of World War II does add some depth to the narrative, in addition to playing into a number of conspiracy theories regarding Nazi experimentation and the classified missions many American soldiers embarked upon during the Second World War. However, a downside to this sort of approach is that Overlord is repeatedly in a tonal conflict with itself, as the first hour of the runtime is a largely straightforward war epic, whilst the final half-hour is a plethora of blood, bullets and superhuman, zombie-like creatures. As such, the film feels as if it’s split into two halves, both at odds with each other. Still, at least Overlord ditches the irritating use of storytelling mystery boxes, a J.J. Abrams staple.

While the performances of Jovan Adepo, Wyatt Russell, Mathilde Ollivier, John Magaro and Pilou Asbæk continually range from serviceable to immensely hammy. The dialogue and characterisation throughout Overlord are somehow much worse, often coming across as cheesy, and in the case of the characterisation, wildly inconsistent. For example, Private. Edward Boyce is initially portrayed as quiet, nervous and hesitant to kill. But, as the runtime continues, Boyce soon changes his disposition almost entirely to become confident and adept on the battlefield, having no issue killing others, all without any semblance of a character arc. Corporal. Lewis Ford suffers from a different issue as the squad’s ruthless leader, wanting to ensure that his unit completes its mission at any cost. Yet, his no-nonsense attitude and bleak outlook are never explained beyond the reasoning of ‘war changes people.’

Primarily relying on hand-held mid-shots and close-ups, many of Overlord‘s finest shots can be seen whenever the squad are outdoors amongst the burning fields and aircraft-filled skies of the small French village where their target resides. Outside of these outdoor shots, the cinematography by Laurie Rose isn’t all that impressive. However, the various sets and locations chosen for the film are rather impressive, appearing period-accurate and extremely unsanitary in regard to the undisclosed Nazi laboratory and connecting subterranean access tunnels.

When it comes to the original score by Jed Kurzel, tracks like Mist Patrol, Devil Dogs, Approaching the Church and Re-Animation, do a respectable job of adding to the tension and brutality of many scenes, yet rarely feel distinguishable or noteworthy by themselves. The film’s end credits song; Bridging the Gap by Naz, is also a peculiar choice given that the well-known jazz-rap song doesn’t fit the time period, tone or even location of Overlord on account of its lyrical references to Mississippi and New York City.

On a more positive note, unlike many modern horror releases, Overlord actually features a reasonable amount of practical effects. One scene in which practical effects were utilised is the opening sequence, which sees soldiers leaping from a burning aircraft as it plummets to the ground. This thrilling moment was accomplished by rigging an aircraft-themed set on a tilting gimbal and then having stuntmen tumble through real flames via its back portion. Sadly, however, many of these effect-filled sequences are somewhat tainted by the film’s need to place CG enchantments on top of its practical effects. Most of which make many of the effects (including a gruesome scene in which a soldier’s neck snaps back so quickly bones pierce out of his chest) appear as if they were achieved purely through CGI.

In summary, when it was first announced many years ago, Overlord seemed practically destined for cult status, appealing to fanatics of war epics, zombie thrillers and gory, low-budget horror flicks alike. But, looking at it now, it’s clear that Overlord doesn’t fully dedicate itself to its bonkers premise, preferring to be a predominately solemn war piece instead of the outrageous, violent homage to the niche horror subgenre of Nazi zombies. As a result, whether it’s your first viewing or your fifth, it’s hard not to wonder how much stronger Overlord would’ve been should it have stuck the landing. Rating: low 4/10.

Hell Fest (2018) – Film Review

31st October 20229th July 2023 / Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“That Same Guy Has Been Following Us the Entire Night!” – Natalie

Initially conceived as a yearly horror franchise similar to Saw and Paranormal Activity, with a sequel released each following October. Hell Fest, released in 2018, is a gruesome throwback to 1980s slasher flicks. Equally violent and bombastic, the film includes many amusing moments for lovers of both scare mazes and ’80s horror. As a result of its formulaic and often uninspired screenplay, however, Hell Fest suffers from a number of issues that diminish its quality as a nostalgic slasher, even when taking into account its distinct horror-festival setting.

Plot Summary: On Halloween night, a group of friends make their way to Hell Fest, a ghoulish travelling festival loaded with attractions, games and scare mazes, hoping for an exciting night of thrills and chills. But, as the night continues, the scares soon become all too real as a masked serial killer turns the horror-themed festival into his personal playground…

Before director Gregory Plotkin (Paranormal Activity: The Ghost Dimension, Crimson) was chosen to helm the project, a handful of other filmmakers were considered, including Jennifer Lynch and Neil Marshall. Needless to say, whilst Hell Fest is competently directed, the premise of the film is really where most of its appeal resides, as the idea of a pursuing killer blending in with an enormous crowd dressed as various ghouls, maniacs and monsters is a rather alarming concept, of which the film takes full advantage. For instance, when the group first encounter the killer chasing another girl through a blacklight-lit scare maze, they assume it’s all part of an act, so they merely watch as he butchers her. As opposed to sporting a single mask throughout the runtime, the killer, only referred to as “The Other,” also swaps out his disguise at many points. Distinguishing the character from horror icons like Michael Myers, despite Stephen Conroy’s physical performance appearing reminiscent of Michael’s movements in the original Halloween from 1978.

The rest of the cast, including Amy Forsyth, Reign Edwards, Roby Attal, Bex Taylor-Klaus, Christian James and Matt Mercurio, portray their characters sufficiently. The actual characterisation of the group is where most of the screenplay’s problems lie, as the teens come across as rather cliché archetypes. This issue is only worsened by the screenplay placing more emphasis on the characters’ relationships than their personalities during their first few scenes together, which is also where a large amount of the film’s corniest dialogue can be heard. On a more positive note, Hell Fest is the second horror flick to feature the voice of horror legend; Tony Todd, in a theme park, the first being Final Destination 3 in 2006. Todd later appears in person, too, portraying an enthusiastic stage announcer and providing the murderous proceedings with a brief jolt of energy.

In terms of the visuals, the cinematography by José David Montero is quite visually interesting, making fantastic use of the daunting yet colourfully lit location of Hell Fest, mainly whenever the camerawork employs wide shots to display the true scale of the bustling festival of frights. Moreover, when it comes to the killings, Hell Fest does a fine job of slaughtering the teens in creative ways through an array of superb practical effects. However, many of these kills are unfortunately spoilt by the film’s over-reliance on shiny CG blood, which somewhat takes away from the charm of the 1980s-inspired artificial heads and rubber eyeballs.

Similar to the film itself, the original score by Bear McCreary feels contemporary yet simultaneously like a nod to the past, as the score combines two musical styles with synth and orchestral, along with some violin harmonics later in the soundtrack. The signature track of the score; Trophies, effectively serves as the killer’s motif and lurks in the background for most of the runtime (similarly comparable to an abundance of classic slashers). Many of the other tracks, such as Technical Difficulties, Guillotine and Welcome to Hell, do an admirable job of building suspense when required, but aren’t that memorable by themselves.

Of course, the most noteworthy aspect of Hell Fest has to be its exceptional production design, which utilises an eye-catching assortment of scare mazes segments, costumes and props from numerous Halloween events all across the United States. A fair amount of the decorations were borrowed from Six Flags Over Georgia’s annual Fright Fest, while many of the costumes were leased from the Netherworld Haunted House in Georgia, one of the highest-rated scare attractions in the country. Furthermore, many members of Hell Fest‘s production crew had formerly worked as scare maze decorators, designers and staffers, so they were more than familiar with the set-up of a scare attraction.

In summary, Hell Fest certainly isn’t anything new. The film isn’t reinventing the slasher subgenre, nor is it trying to. Hell Fest is merely attempting to be an entertaining, modern-day slasher that pays homage to horror classics of the 1980s, and in that sense, I suppose it succeeds. It’s just a shame that Hell Fest doesn’t go further with its violence or horror-festival setting, as the production design is undoubtedly one of the most impressive elements of Hell Fest. And I’m sure that if any scare maze enthusiasts were to watch this slasher flick, they would be blown away by what the production crew accomplished with the detailed costumes, props and sets on display. Rating: high 5/10.

Mortal Engines (2018) – Film Review

28th September 20229th July 2023 / Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“Sixty Minutes Is All It Took to Bring Humanity to the Very Brink of Extinction. Mankind Mobilised, a New Age Arose. The Age of the Great Predator Cities…” – Professor Chudleigh Pomeroy

Based on the novel of the same name by Philip Reeve, the first entry in a string of young-adult novels, 2018’s Mortal Engines seemed like a blockbuster destined for success and an ensuing franchise upon its initial release, but, evidently, that was not the case. Carrying over much of the same crew behind The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit trilogies, Mortal Engines has no shortage of eye-catching visuals and large-scale action set pieces, but the film lacks the interesting characters and engrossing story required to fuel a post-apocalyptic blockbuster of epic proportions.

Plot Summary: Thousands of years after human civilisation was destroyed by a cataclysmic event, mankind has adapted, and a new way of life has evolved. Gigantic roaming cities now wander the Earth, ruthlessly preying upon smaller municipalities to feed their enormous engines. One of these cities; the great traction city of London, is home to Tom Natsworthy, an apprentice historian, who eventually finds himself stranded and fighting for survival in the barren Outlands after encountering the evasive fugitive, Hester Shaw…

Directed by Christian Rivers, a prior storyboard and visual effects artist for both The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit trilogies. Mortal Engines shares more than a few similarities with co-writer/producer Peter Jackson’s adaptations of J.R.R Tolkien’s high-fantasy novels. For instance, much like the trilogies set within Middle-Earth, Mortal Engines places a hefty emphasis on world-building, continuously introducing new characters, lore and pieces of futuristic technology to flesh out its post-apocalyptic world. However, the diverse mix of locations throughout the narrative is by far the most fascinating aspect of the fictional world. From the roaming city of the former British capital to Airhaven; a metropolis floating amongst the clouds, to the nefarious Rustwater Marshes; an expansive section of swampland where countless unethical exchanges take place. Every location presented during the runtime is far more memorable than any of the characters that traverse through them.

Speaking of the characters, whether they derive from one of the monumental roaming cities or the desolate Outlands, the characters of Mortal Engines are exceptionally bland. Harbouring generic traits and obligatory backstories, the characters merely exist to push the story forward. The central cast of Hera Hilmar, Robert Sheehan, Jihae Kim, Ronan Raftery, Leila George and Hugo Weaving don’t elevate the screenplay either, as their exaggerated British accents and equally exaggerated deliveries of corny and exposition-heavy dialogue make it difficult to care for any of them. Furthermore, by the time the third act arrives, we’re told that Hester and Tom have developed feelings for each other, a plot point that seems extremely far-fetched considering that the pair share only a handful of conversations that aren’t directly related to the narrative.

Largely consisting of wide shots to establish the extensive amount of locations visited throughout the story, Simon Raby’s cinematography undoubtedly enriches the film by impressively capturing the scope of the world and the enormous cities that roam within it. Moreover, the steampunk aesthetic supplies a hefty dose of personality to the visuals, particularly whenever it comes to scenes set within the roaming city of London, as the rundown futuristic technology combined with British iconography, forms a striking visual meld. Contrarily, the post-apocalyptic landscape of the Outlands is devoid of life and colour, making the industrial levels of the motorised cities almost seem appealing in comparison.

The original score by Tom Holkenborg, a.k.a. Junkie XL, is, for the most part, action-dominated, with tracks like The Chase, First Strike and No Going Back, all bleeding into one another due to their similarities. And whilst the soundtrack never really drags, the score does become rather repetitive as Holkenborg struggles to innovate on the action-orientated tracks. Meaning that all of the action sequences essentially contain the same selection of interchangeable tracks, each blaring out pounding percussions and string ostinatos.

Although many of the action sequences are relatively uninspired, the visual effects throughout Mortal Engines cannot be faulted. The most blatant example of how remarkable the visual effects are can be seen with the CG character, Shrike, a cyborg assassin, portrayed by Stephen Lang. While the film’s visual effects company, Weta Digital, is well-known for developing exceptional motion-capture characters, such as Gollum in The Lord of the Rings and Caesar in the most recent Planet of the Apes trilogy. In Mortal Engines, Shrike was created using alternative techniques to Weta Digital’s usual approach, as visual effects artists disregarded modern motion-capture methods to instead employ traditional keyframe animation and accurately capture Lang’s subtle facial expressions. Nevertheless, much like many of the other characters within Mortal Engines, Shrike and his poignant relationship with protagonist, Hester Shaw, feels greatly under-realised, somewhat dampening the terrific CGI.

In summary, for a blockbuster that revolves around massive roaming cities, soaring airships and steampunk cyborgs, Mortal Engines is strangely forgettable. Whilst the film is visually creative, dynamic and propulsive, emotionally and thematically, it’s hollow and flat, barely giving a reseason for its audience to be engaged. And even though I understand that in the last few years, Peter Jackson seems to have turned his attention towards directing documentaries as opposed to blown-up blockbusters. I believe that Mortal Engines could’ve been improved should Jackson have helmed the project and given the screenplay a few more rewrites and lookovers, potentially capturing some of the magic that made his prior plunges into the mystical world of Middle-Earth so enthralling. Rating: high 4/10.

Peter Rabbit (2018) – Film Review

27th January 20229th July 2023 / Joe Baker / Leave a comment

“This Is Our Ancestor’s Land, It’s Time to Get Our Garden Back…” – Peter Rabbit

Based on the children’s book; The Tales of Peter Rabbit, written and illustrated by Beatrix Potter, 2018’s Peter Rabbit is the first live-action adaptation of the mischievous, jacket-wearing bunny. And although Potter herself would’ve more than likely not enjoyed the film as the condemnatory author was well-known for her continuous criticisms of how her characters were utilised (to the extent that she even oversaw much of the characters’ merchandise). Over a century on, it’s understandable that Peter’s garden high-jinx would pale in comparison to many modern family flicks. Thus, Peter Rabbit unsurprisingly attempts to update the character, resulting in a mixed bag of a film brimming with over-the-top antics and wild animal house parties.

Plot Summary: After spending years in the countryside toying and tormenting the old, crotchety gardener, Mr. McGregor, as they steal from his luscious vegetable patch. Peter Rabbit and his twin sisters find themselves up against a real challenge when Mr. McGregor dies of a heart attack, prompting his young, compulsive great-nephew, Thomas McGregor, to inherit his property and all that comes with it…

While screenwriters Rob Lieber and Will Gluck (who also directs) do a serviceable job at crafting a family adventure, one of Peter Rabbit‘s biggest issues is that its story is often told from an American perspective, in which the picturesque British countryside is exclusively filled with cosy cottages and well-meaning residents. This frequently results in quite the disconnect whenever the story becomes more chaotic as garden rakes begin to fly, explosives go off and electric fences impart a never-ending stream of injuries to both humans and animals, all played with flippant humour that’s somewhat at odds with the emotional fallout of Peter’s parents’ death many years earlier.

The voices of James Cordon, Colin Moody, Daisy Ridley, Margot Robbie, Elizabeth Debicki and Sia lead the cast, lending their star-studded vocals to the various animals ripped straight from the source material in terms of both their designs and personalities. On the human side of things, however, many of the characters have been significantly reworked from their original appearances, primarily in an attempt to modernise them, which is pretty clear from Mr. McGregor being swapped out for his younger nephew in an admittedly bleak fashion. And even though Donald Gleeson is incredibly exaggerated in his performance as Thomas McGregor, the character does serve his purpose well as not only a foil for Peter, but also a reasonably likeable man thrown into an understandably aggravating conflict with a troublesome rabbit. Rose Byrne equally elevates her role as the friendly next-door neighbour who is fond of both Thomas and Peter, often leaving the two boys to fight over her affection.

On a technical level, Peter Rabbit is a fairly polished film as the blend of actors and CG characters is well-done and feels natural, while the cinematography by Peter Menzies Jr. ensures the film stays visually appealing even during the story’s more outlandish moments, often having the camera head-level with Peter and his relatives to give the animals more intimate scenes. Moreover, the film frequently integrates animated sequences which are remarkably reminiscent of the source material, having many flashbacks appear as water-coloured paintings similar to the book’s endearing artwork.

With the exception of the uplifting track; Rascal Rebel Rabbit, the original score by Dominic Lewis isn’t overly memorable. But, thankfully, Lewis still manages to compose a score that has a youthful bounce to it as the soundtrack’s melodies all have great energy to them. Furthermore, the way the score is structured means the audience gets to experience the slapstick fun of the film’s first and second acts, but as the third act arrives, some real emotional weight creeps in. Also worth noting is the brilliant use of garden tools in the fabric of the score, the most notable of which is the use of the garden shears as percussion throughout several tracks.

Curiously, many of the live-action scenes for Peter Rabbit were actually filmed in Australia, not the United Kingdom as Sydney was chosen as the primary filming location as the city is home to Animal Logic, the company that produced much of the film’s advanced animation. However, this did cause a problem for the filmmakers as rabbits have been regarded as pests in the country since the 1800s as the country was once overrun with them. And, at its illegal to bring living rabbits into the country, the actors had to work opposite CG characters for the entirety of the production, with even their closet of interactions being achieved through the use of CGI, which luckily does hold up.

In summary, Peter Rabbit is bitterly average as it’s a film you can sit through, but not much else beyond that. In many ways, it almost feels as if Will Gluck was bored with the source material and was concerned that audiences would be too, leading him to implement as many disorderly action sequences and childish, fourth-wall-breaking gags as he possibly can. Unfortunately, making the film more frenetic only adds to its sense of desperation. Still, with Peter Rabbit racking in over £229 million at the global box office, I’m convinced we’ll be seeing many, many sequels (and potentially spin-offs) to this family adventure in the near future. Rating: 5/10.

Joe Baker – Film Reviews

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Release Year: 2018