Chappie (15)

Is it me, or is the summer looking like there's some right crap heading our way?

Settling down to spend some time with Chappie this evening, I was introduced to future offerings of Run All Night (Liam Neeson has to run around and shoot people) Fast & Furious Seven (Vin and The Rock drive around and shoot stuff) and Home (attempting to be at least seven other family animated wet farts).

Not an original idea amongst them.

Then came Chappie.

Now, granted, you can pick the influences and references off as you go - but wearing your inspiration on your sleeve is a long way from just continuously re-hashing the same format.

Especially when the result is as emotional and heartwarming as Chappie.

Brought to us by the wonderful Neill 'District 9' Blomkamp, Chappie tells the tale of a robot made sentient. AI meets Robocop via Doomsday/Mad Max if you will. With a bit of Avatar and Transcendence thrown in.

And, almost certainly unintentionally, a smidge of Baymax.

The result of this melting pot of themes and ideas is a powerful, emotive look at how your environment can shape you, how good people can do bad things, how using private companies to police a city is flawed...

There's a lot going on.

It's also been billed in some places as a sci-fi comedy, which is not totally true as - while there are smirks and giggles and a lot of smiles to be had - out and out laughs are few and far between.

I don't say that as a bad thing, it's just not that film. In fact, there are more laughs in District 9.

It's the story that carries Chappie through - that and Chappie himself.

Yes it's a bit over-baked at times, and there's more going on than is absolutely necessary, at the core you have Chappie learning to 'be'. And that's really what this film is about.

Brought into being by his Maker (Dev Patel), Chappie is initially just an experiment that worked.

But then he grows. And you grow to love him.

He's led astray by Ninja (played by, erm, Ninja) and Amerika (Jose Pablo Cantillo), he's loved and nurtured by Yolandi (played by Yo-Landi no less), he's attacked by Hugh Jackman's Vincent - and through it all he grows, matures and develops.

Basically, in the space of two hours (well, 90 minutes from invention) Chappie grows up. And these provide some of the best moments in the film.

Imagine a robot teenager learning to walk like a gangster, covered in bling, while also painting and playing with dolls and you get a hint of what's happening.

Probably.

Chappie'll have you grinning all the way home.

But that's not to say this film perfect.

While well filmed and well paced, there are some odd editing issues and the soundtrack is less than subtle at times.

Then there's the small matter of one character getting subtitled.

He's talking English. OK, with a strong South African accent, but it's no stronger than anyone else's in this film yet - and I'm guessing there's an American influence here - someone somewhere decided his voice needed words adding on the screen.

If I was being kind, I'd suggest it was a satire on American TV programming (Next Top Model has a habit of doing this), but it's not that kind of film.

It feels more like a bit of dumbing down. And it detracts from a lot of great fight scenes.

There's also a lot of Sony products on display but as it's their film I guess that's allowed. (Mind you, I'm pretty sure a PS4 can't do what Chappie makes it do).

But such niggles fail to detract from the heart and soul of this movie.

It's a credit to the writers (Blomkamp an Terri Tatchell) and Blomkamp's direction that from the outset you connect with the non-human character and root for him all the way through.

It hurts to see him get hurt, you want to stop him getting led astray, you laugh at his child-like look at the world. You have to remind yourself he's a robot.

After Oscar season there's always a lull in the film calendar, but with Chappie it feels like the year is finally up and running.

With so many sequels and unoriginal ideas heading our way, Chappie stands out from the crowd.

It's a film made with passion, heart and soul, a film that makes you care what happens. And, at the end of the day, it's a shedload of fun.

Which is more than that Neeson crap looks.

Cake (15)

Watching the BBC's back-up movie programme Film (insert year here) recently, presenter Danny Leigh was less than kind about Cake - basically saying it was Jennifer Aniston playing Rachel Off Of Friends only without make-up.

And this pissed me off, because Aniston can act - she's not just rehashing the character that made her famous.

You only have to watch We're The Millers and The Good Girl to see that.

But don't watch Cake to find out. Because Danny was right. Which has pissed me off again.

Billed as a film about addiction (it isn't) and clearly aimed at The Oscars (it missed), Cake is actually an essay on suicide and grief. With jokes.

Not great jokes, sure, but a couple of half-way decent stabs at black humour are attempted.

The film centres entirely on Aniston's character Claire, a woman recovering from an accident and using pills to numb all manner of pains.

And Claire's not nice.

She gets kicked out of her therapy group, her aqua-therapist threatens to drop her, her house keeper only puts up with it because... Well that's not made clear. It's probably the money.

And through all this, Claire embarks on an ill-advised relationship with a dead friend's widower and takes up drug smuggling to keep the habit going.

All of which raises more questions than it ever answers.

Aniston, meanwhile, is basically playing Rachel.

Sure, a potty-mouthed, barely-able-to-walk Rachel with no friends, but it's Rachel nonetheless. Right down to the hair.

Amazingly this doesn't make it a bad film, but it doesn't make it brilliant either.

Especially when both Anna Kendrick and Felicity Huffman act her off the screen during their brief appearances.

The problems start with the central character being so unlikeable, and are compounded by the flimsy plot and weak supporting characters.

And yet it's still not a bad film.

It helps that Aniston is essentially a likeable screen presence, even if her character isn't. It also helps that Cake is shot so beautifully.

It's glowing warmth does all it can to cover up the flaws, and the lack of music - bar one 'key' scene - actually works well.

But it's not great.

Partly because of the aforementioned issues, but also because of what this film could have been.

There's a gritty intent that gets given a glossy sheen, there are real issues (chronic pain, drug addiction) which don't get covered in the depth they deserve.

The fact it's so clearly aimed at the Oscar judges also goes against it.

As mentioned, there are some attempts at humour, but they're ill-judged and would have been best left on the cutting room floor.

What Cake should have been was a nasty, gritty film about a woman falling apart which had the courage of it's convictions instead of trying to get mass appeal.

Instead, it's an Oscar wannabe, a film that wants to be liked (even if the central character can't be), a goodie-two-shoes that thinks jaywalking is a real crime.

And that's criminal.

To be fair to Aniston, she's taken this role (and helped produce the movie) to prove she's got depth and range.

Instead, we get to see what happened to Rachel after she left New York.

The 2015 EE Baftas

Hello, good evening and welcome. We've got our wine, Richard Parker is in his best bib and tucker, and we've switched Twitter off so we can find out who wins with Stephen Fry and the rest of the universe.

It's what God intended.

Well, not God, obviously. Him and Stephen don't get on so much. But you know what we mean.

Anyhoo, sit back, relax, and enjoy...

OK, who the hell invented Beckham and that pointless bunch of twerps from Leicester?

Julianne Moore looks baffled by Kasabian. Join the club love, never seen the point. In fact, we seem to have a whole room of people wondering why they have to put up with this crap.

"That. Was amazing."

It really bloody wasn't.

Aha, here's the main man, the newly-wed Stephen Fry.

Mr Gervais could learn a thing or two about how to make smut sound innocent from Mr Fry.

Here we go, Outstanding British Film...

Only slightly marred by David Beckham blithering on, reading an autocue like a man more used to picture books.

But I digress...

Outstanding British Film

The Theory Of Everything

No great shock, but from a list that included Paddington, Pride, Under The Skin, '71 and The Imitation Game, no less deserved.

(1-1 so far)








Best Supporting Actor
J.K. Simmons for Whiplash

Get in! Brilliant and so well deserved.

(2-2)

(Might have forgotten to mention the prediction game with Bang The Drum Mag - it's what the scores refer to)

Good grief, Cuba Gooding Jnr actually has a sense of humour.

Best Supporting Actress
Patricia Arquette for Boyhood

Sorry, but no. Everyone else (Knightly, Staunton, Russo, Stone) deserved it far more. AND IT'S NOT A BLOODY WORK OF SODDING ART!

(Still 2-2)

Well, Wes Anderson wins the prize for best speech (and we're only half way through).

Oh damn, we've run out of wine. Onto the Jim Beam we go...

Hmmm, so that's two prizes for Theory Of Everything (Best Adapted Screenplay has just been handed out). Money says it doesn't get the big one now...

Bloody hell, missed Lauren Bacall snuffing it last year.

'Ey up, star of everything James McAvoy is now here to present the Rising Star award (what he went and won 10 years go - how time flies, eh?).

And Jack O'Connel l (off of '71 among others) is that rising star. Bloody well deserved.

And now we have Steve Carrel to discuss Best Director.

Best Director
Oh look, Richard Linklater. (3-3)

Seriously, just because he bothered the same damn kid for 12 years - doesn't mean the film is actually any bloody good!

Although the film is slightly more fun than Ethan Hawke's tedious waffle we've currently got to endure as Linklater had better things to do than turn up apparently.

Now we're into the big stuff.

Leading Actor
Eddie Redmayne (for playing The Prof in Theory, obvs)

In a tough field (Fiennes, Cumberbatch, Keaton, Gyllenhall) was there ever any doubt?

(4-4 if you're keeping score. And I am)

Leading Actress
Julianne Moore (for Still Alice)

No one has seen this here in the UK yet (unless you took advantage of Sony's security breach), but she's playing an Alzheimer's sufferer. The others never stood a chance.

(That's 5-5).

Some young upstart called Tom Cruise is presenting the Best Film gong. Ever heard of him? No, me neither.

Best Film
Boyhood (6-6)

Oh fer... Really? Maybe if they'd taken 15 years to make Theory, or 20 years to make Budapest? Would a decent film have won then?

Meanwhile, in the background, Tom Cruise is talking to an gay man. Hope he's had his jabs...


Right, as people try and explain why one of the most tedious films in living memory is worth all the fuss, we just have to search out Best Animated Film to see who has won this year's prediction fandango.

And...

Best Animated Film
Lego

Oh bloody get it in! Have that Oscars! You didn't even deem it worthy of a mention, but Bafta has shown the way. Everything is indeed awesome!

And that's it, we're all done for another year. We've tied 7-7 with Bang The Drum (who are currently streaming the excellent new Subways album), so it's double or nothing when it comes to The Oscars.

See you there?

A Most Violent Year (15)

Regular readers of these opinionated burblings will know that if there's one thing we like around here, it's a JC Chandor film.

First on the radar was Margin Call, a low-budget yet brilliant look at the financial crisis from within one bank that realised it was all about to go boobs up.

Then we had All Is Lost. About one man and a boat. Simple yet stunning, giving us one of Robert Redford's finest ever performances.

Sadly, all people heard was 'its one man on a boat' and ignored it. Still, their loss.

Now, we have another offering from one of the best writer-directors operating today.

And not a boat in sight.

For A Most Violent Year, Chandor takes us back to New York in 1981 - the violent year of the film's title when crime stats hit an all time high.

The story centres on Abel (a stunningly measured performance from Oscar Isaac), an immigrant businessman simply trying to earn an honest buck.

OK, it's honesty on his terms, but it's still honesty to him - even if his wife Anna (the brilliant Jessica Chastain) is the daughter of a Brooklyn hoodlum.

The problem is, others aren't so honest, so Abe finds himself having to fight battles on many fronts - with the District Attorney, the two-bit crooks who keep robbing him, his business rivals who keep buying the stolen goods - just to try and stay honest.

And as with Chandor's previous work, nothing here screams and shouts. It's all mid-paced, and apparently quite gentle.

But don't be fooled.

The tension almost ambles up to you, gripping you before you are even aware of it - and several times you'll find yourself holding your breath or having shuffled forward in your seat without even noticing.

That's not to say it's slow or one-paced. There are thrills and jumps to be had.

And even though you see them 'jumps' coming, you still jump.

There's action too, just maybe not the action you're used to. A foot race across a Manhattan bridge and a car chase with an oil truck might not sound edge-of-the-seat, but you haven't seen Chandor do them yet.

The film clearly owes a debt to the mob films of the period, and Scorsese's influence can be felt, but that's not a bad thing.

Chandor knows his genres, and what you get is a "period" piece that is brilliantly written and directed, with well-drawn characters you can relate to and believe in.

From the main characters (and a nod here has to go to Albert Brooks as the family lawyer) down to the incidental ones, everyone feels like they've got depth and purpose.

Hell, even the secretary working with David Oyelowo's DA makes her mark.

Essentially, this film has the lot.

It's a great, gripping, well told story with dialogue that rings true.

It's subtly filmed, with nothing being telegraphed or showboated, meaning the story can play out naturally.

And to top it all, Chandor again gets top performances from every member of the cast, right down to the children.

Sadly, the film has come out at a time when all the Oscar big-hitters are flying about, and so it will probably make little impact (Cineworld's list of available screenings has already shrunk) - but don't let that put you off.

If you want a film that will engage and grip you for two hours, make you jump and have your heart racing with a story that is believable and enjoyable, then this is where to throw your money.

Chandor is only going to get better, so get in now so you can claim you were there at the start.

Whiplash (15)

Awards season is a funny old time for the movies - everything seems to be a 'worthy' biopic about someone important or clever. Or both.

Or it's the oddball 'idea' films - like Boyhood, which sounded like a great idea til you sat down and watched it - that have got the panels all agog and excited.

Then there's that film about drumming.

Let's face it, you've heard about this one. You even thought it might be good, but then you went and watched Paddington again because it's that film about drumming.

And Whiplash is that film about drumming.

But it also isn't.

What it really is is a gripping, thrilling, intense psychological battle between a man who knows best and an underdog who thinks he knows better.

Think of it as Full Metal Jacket meets Rocky.

With drums.

And jazz.

In fact, this is a jazz film, pure and simple.

Not just in the sounds and noises that come crashing off the screen, but in the way it is shot and edited, with little flicks and tricks, fills and rolls popping up at the oddest moments.

You first notice it when Miles Teller's Andrew is ordering popcorn at the cinema, and once noticed it can't be un-noticed.

Instead it becomes a joy to see and look for as the passion and tension mounts.

Because if there's one thing this film has in spades is passion.

At the heart of everything is J K Simmons, playing a film villain so cruel and cold you can't help but like him.

It's a performance so note perfect that it's simply baffling that he's only up for supporting actor gongs - his presence fills every frame of this movie, even if he's not on screen.

And this is just one of the things that makes Whiplash just so damn good.

It looks great, it sounds great, the drumming is great - but without the performances to back it up, Whiplash would have dropped the beat.

But Simmons and Teller (the person who saw Two Night Stand never saw this in him) deliver with such intensity that everyone else fades into the background.

And it's not just Simmons' Fletcher who you hate - Teller's Andrew is equally loathsome.

And yet you are drawn to both of them, which is a measure of just how good both actors are.

In many ways Whiplash shouldn't work.

It's a bit quirky, a bit pretentious (it has a brief message to the music industry, you won't miss it), it has laughs - and while all that is going on it's putting you through the emotional wringer.

But there is so much heart and soul infused through this film, so much pure love for the subject matter and the characters, that the whole thing comes together so beautifully.

There are even laughs and chuckles to be had ("are you rushing or are you dragging?").

I won't lie, approaching this film I was conflicted.

On the one hand, the trailer was enough to get me excited - but, you know, it's about drumming. And I know drummers. They're not normal.

But then nor is Whiplash. And that's what makes it so damn great.

Wild (15)

I don't know what is is about films with a single lead character, but I have a real soft spot for them.

It probably started with 127 Hours (James Franco has never been as good since), then we had Gravity (Sandra Bullock is totes amazeballs), All Is Lost (the sublime Robert Redford) and then Locke (Tom Hardy, all alone and all brilliant) - all brilliant in their own way.

Now, we have Wild. Starring Reese Witherspoon.

And I won't deny, that was almost enough to put me off.

It's not that Ms Witherspoon isn't a good actress, she is, but nothing I've seen her in suggested she was capable of holding a film together on her own.

Especially a film that requires her to be toddling about in the wilderness on a "personal journey".

Be honest. This isn't grabbing you either, is it?

And then there's the start.

Utilising the same trope as American Sniper, we are dropped in part-way through the journey, and then we trek back to the start and join her life at the beginning.

But where as Sniper dropped the ball this early on, after watching Witherspoon scream expletives as her only pair of hiking boots disappear down the side of a sheer cliff you want to know what the hell she's doing there.

Fortunately director Jean-Marc Vallee knows how to keep us interested, so as we join Witherspoon on her journey, through flashback we find out how she ends up on the Pacific Crest Trail.

I'll grant you, it sounds like an Oscar-type film (and Reese is deservedly up for a Best Actress gong), personal journey, wilderness, an odd-looking fox, tents, caterpillars invading sleeping bags - it's all been done before.

But what makes Wild work so well is the heart and warmth that flows through each frame.

The tonal shifts between 'now' (relatively speaking, as the real Cheryl Strayed did this in 1995), and the emotionally darker events that led her here are clear and marked, yet handled well so as to help you engage with our heroine.

And the filming of the actual hike is simply beautiful.

From the squirm-inducing opening as she rips a toe nail off, to the deserts, snow-covered plains, forests and rivers that are crossed, you feel like you're there.

And it's not without it's dramatic tensions, either.

On at least two occasions, Witherspoon finds herself in potential peril - and where it would have been easy to gloss over this, Vallee allows fear to infuse proceedings.

And it's all handled brilliantly by Witherspoon.

She handles the froth and the much darker periods with equal aplomb, delivering a range hitherto unseen.

And there is froth. Let's make no bones about this, it's aiming for the heartstrings from the off - but Wild does so in such a way you just don't mind.

It's not perfect, far from it. It's not edgy, there are editing issues, the supporting cast are almost inconsequential and the CGI fox is nothing short of laughable.

But none of that detracts from the fact this is a film with its heart in the right place.

You care about the characters, you feel for what she has gone though (despite the fact she's not always been the best of people).

OK, yes, the ending is as about as saccharine as it's possible to be without inducing nausea - but by then you've enjoyed the ride so you can forgive anything because you're full of the warm and fuzzies.

Forgive anything but the fox. That can still sod off.

American Sniper (15)

War, huh? What is it good for?

Well, if nothing else, films detailing the horrors the men and women who sign up to fight. It's great for that.

And let's not forget, without war we wouldn't have some amazing films - Armadillo, Green Zone, The Hurt Locker, they've all dealt with the drama and politics brilliantly.

American Sniper, though?

Not so much.

Now, you've got to tread carefully here, because Sniper deals with an American hero.

Chris Kyle (played here by Bradley Cooper, nominated for Best Actor in this year's Oscars for this very role) is credited with 150 (or 160, according to the film) kills while on four tours of duty in Iraq.

He became known as Legend by his fellow soldiers, all of whom said they felt safer knowing he was looking out for them while they went about their duties.

So, they guy was good, and his is a story that warrants telling (and going by the opening weekend figures from America, people wanted it told).

It's just, well, it hasn't been told well.

It starts off brilliantly. Kyle is on a roof top, things happen, and he's faced with a decision none of us would want to make.

He's thinking, his heart is pounding, you're there with him on the edge of your seat, gripped...

His finger grips the trigger...

...and BOOM! We're flashed back to his childhood and start the journey of how he came to be on the roof.

And in that moment, all drama and tension is lost.

From there it's a slow slog back to to the start - and I mean slow. Thirty minutes in and it felt like an hour had passed.

By the time Kyle's grown up, shown his girlfriend to be unfaithful, met his wife (a brilliant portrayal by Sienna Miller) and been deployed, you've stopped giving a toss about any of it.

And that's the problem with the film.

Despite Cooper's fine performance (it's not Oscar worthy though), this is a one note film.

It's a rallying cry for the war on terror. Those nasty insurgents (or locals, as they like to be called) are after our brave boys and America's way of life, and the American Sniper is all that stands between us and them.

There's no balance here. No context. No questions asked.

Actually, there is some context - we get to watch 9/11 on CNN with Kyle and Taya, so we know why all this is happening.

Subtle it isn't.

But we know nothing of the the people he's fighting - in particular, nothing of the Iraqi sniper who becomes Kyle's nemesis.

We find out late on he's got a family and a child (hey, he's human too guys...), but by then you've lost the will to live and are just praying for it all to end.

We see how the war affects Kyle's relationship with Taya and his children. We get to see how he holds a baby doll (honestly, was a real child not available for this scene?). We get beaten over the head with the pro-conflict rhetoric.

We have to assume that Kyle did indeed chat to his wife while on rooftop sniper duty, given it's taken from his own book, but such scenes raise more questions than provide any answers or context.

And that's the theme all the way through. For a film based on a real man's life and account of his actions, it somehow fails to ring true.

Part of that is caused by the pace of the film, part of it by the detached approach Clint Eastwood has taken to his direction.

You don't warm to any of the characters, and everything just feels cold and slightly remote.

Which is odd given just how hot it is in Iraq.

And then, finally, we get to the final scenes.

Now, if - like me - you were unaware of Kyle's story, you won't know how this film ends. But if you can't guess from the way it's shot, from the leaden approach, the Hallmark-esque stylings, then you should just give up watching films.

You've clearly learnt nothing.

And this bit comes after a genuinely jaw-dropping piece of machismo filming that even Michael Bay would have thought twice about.

Now I know Clint is a Republican and pro-war and pro-guns, but even he must look back at it and think he over did it a tad.

In a way I'm glad I stayed til the end (the urge to walk out was over-whelming) because it's an important story and the guy certainly made his mark.

But the telling of his story deserved better than this.

It deserved heart, soul, real emotion. Instead it shot itself in the foot.