Luckily, I didn’t need to study my calendar to know it was still January as The Rule-of-4*1 held strong throughout my viewing of Guillermo del Toro’s surreal, fantasy-romance, The Shape of Water. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Working as a cleaner for (ostensibly) an aeronautics company in 1950s America, the quirky Elisa (Sally Hawkins) becomes aware of a subject in their subterranean research-laboratories - a humanoid sea-creature, supposedly of Mexican origin. Our heroine develops a relationship with the mysterious mute stranger and finds herself falling in love, and as her employers’ methods and motives become clearer, she hatches a plot to liberate him with her friend and neighbour Giles (Richard Jenkins). But the path of true love never did run smooth, and more than one agency is interested in this aquatic asset…
Now, if you’ve read the word “quirky” in that first paragraph and thought ’oh right, I see...’, then you’ll have some understanding of my reaction watching the film. If the Q-word is going to be a problem for you, good luck with The Shape of Water. As the central character, there’s scant escape from Elisa's enforced oddness, and even less relief from del Toro’s apparent self-indulgence in bringing his and Vanessa Taylor’s screenplay to life..
Don't get me wrong, there is much (much) to admire in here. A solid story, great performances and fantastic visuals and creature-effects. But on a character-level, the film feels shamelessly overwritten, like there’s been no editorial process, or anyone leaning in with ’should we maybe tone that down a bit?’*2. For the most part, the personalities of the characters we meet stay fixed throughout, with little in the way of development*3. Ultimately I couldn’t overcome the neatness of the story*4, even if it is framed as a fairy-tale*5.
I imagine you'll love it.
The Shape Of Water is basically a greatest-hits medley of Amelie, E.T. and Nightbreed.
*1 Whereby every movie I've seen in this first month of the year (which hasn't had a Disney stamp on it), whether that be an allegorical tale of miniaturisation, the study of a nation uniting against fascism or just Liam Neeson punching people on a train, has been met with a resounding shrug of my shoulders and a final awarded score of 4/7. Only Coco (which is technically a movie from 2017) and Star Wars (which is definitely a movie from 2017) have punctured my bubble of misanthropic apathy in January.
[ BACK ]
*2 Because it's not enough for the young guy in the café to be revealed as a homophobe, he also has to be shown as a massive racist IN THE SAME SCENE. This guy is all the wrong, DO YOU SEE? That section in particular feels like sketching a nicely rounded character-subplot, then throwing it in the bin because you're worried it's taking too much away from the rest of the picture. [ BACK ]
*3 With the slight exception of Michael Stuhlbarg's research scientist. Although what we learn about him still doesn't really change the character's behaviour or the audience's perception of it. [ BACK ]
*4 The early stages of the relationship between Elisa and the creature seem almost skipped over, whereas other movies would have gone on a detour of cross-species exploration. Here it's just 'would you like a hard-boiled egg?', 'oh, yes please.'. We have to assume the beautifully utilised sign-language has been picked up rapidly as we go from a one-word basic to pretty much full communication with next to no on-screen progress. And this is also apparently taking place in a top-secret laboratory which is not under CCTV surveillance (otherwise Elisa would have been removed instantly, lunch-break or not), while the loading dock in the back yard gets its own constantly monitored camera-feed. And don't even get me started on how smoothly Dimitri's own plans for the creature are altered to seamlessly fit in with Elisa's, apparently with little or no actual discussion. I have no problem believing a sea-monster exists, but do not mess around on the admin, Guillermo. [ BACK ]
*5SPOILERS: Highlight-to-readAnd the guy next to me (an adult human old enough to have seen other films) did a little gasp of realisation at 'that reveal moment' with the scars on Elisa's neck. It was all I could do to not take him to one side during the closing credits and be like "Seriously, though? Mate, that's been relentlessly telegraphed since the beginning of the film. It's an early-tell which explains the rest of the film before it's happened. The film's about water. You don't need a masters-degree in H.P. Lovecraft to see where that was going…"[ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Standard operating procedure, mate. Begin a day's film-viewing with a tense and complex drama unfolding around a subject about which you know little or nothing! But we can only obey the most efficient cinematic schedule, never change it.
John Madden's political drama stars Jessica Chastain as its subject, a US lobbyist who takes on the task of persuading senators to vote for tighter firearms regulations. The film opens at a congressional hearing in which Sloane is being indicted for violations of Senate ethics-rules. Character closeups then spark a series of personalised flashbacks, to fill in the three months' events leading up to this moment.
The story structure requires thisformat , with its reveals and character-building dependent on the courtroom scene we know is coming. The pacing of the film however, suffers a little under the non-linear timeline, with stretches of backstory becoming longer and taking over the narrative 'now', jarring when we drop back to the trial. Miss Sloane is a densely scripted affair, with a lot of fast talking and legal shorthand thrown at the viewer but with enough smart-arsed quips and shouting to break things up for a civilian audience (ie. the audience).
Alison Pill, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, John Lithgow and Mark Strong all offer sterling supporting performances but this really is Jessica Chastain's show, and she's fantastic in a film which never really gets past quite-good. Constantly engaging and 'dumbed down' enough for even me to follow easily, I'd still be hard pushed to recommend it as an entertaining watch. But the film handles a sensitive subject without resorting to hysterics or even taking sides other than 'they're all shifty, mate'. Miss Sloane is more about the lobbying process itself than what the characters are pushing for.
Best line: "Career suicide's not so bad when you consider that the alternative is suicide-by-career…"
The only real downside for me was the lack of narrative-transformation on the part of our eponymous protagonist. While the events of the film gradually reveal Elizabeth Sloane to be principled but flawed, she's supposed to come across at the film's beginning as an obsessive, inaccessible perfectionist, striking fear into the hearts of those around her rather than awe or admiration*1….
But in an early scene where Sloane washes her hands in a work restroom, we see her then use a paper towel to grab the door handle, forming a barrier between herself and any germs left behind by less diligent colleagues. And in that moment, I thought that's someone with such a fundamental distrust of other people's basic decency and self-awareness that I pretty much just fell in love with the character before the door had swung closed again.
And if I'm on-side from Act I, where's the development, eh?
The Big Short.
Except this is easier to follow and features characters who aren't all uniformly awful.
That won't be essential to get the most out of the film.
I think it does, although the subject matter is largely alien to me, so I can't say for certain.
Maybe not best but certainly on the front-page.
Nope.
Nope.
Level 2: Gugu Mbatha-Raw's in this, and she was in some episodes of that Doctor Who programme along with David 'Huyang' Tennant.
*1 Although at one point, we see Sloane reading a John Grisham novel of an evening. For someone who spends an inordinate amount of time around lawyers for a living, this shows a damning lack of imagination on the character's part. That'd be like expecting an astronaut on the ISS to watch episodes of Star Trek after clocking-off for the day. I'm not saying it wouldn't happen, but everyone else would quite rightly take the piss. [ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Arrival (SPOILER FREE)
Cert: 12A / 116 mins / Dir. Denis Villeneuve / Trailer
I shall have to tread lightly here, since the real power of Arrival lies in a spoiler-free first viewing. That said, I know I'm going to enjoy the hell out of watching it again at least once, too.
When twelve gigantic alien Shells suddenly and silently arrive at unrelated positions around the globe, the authorities scramble to ascertain who is inside them, why they're here and what they'll do to achieve that why. The US military calls upon the services of highly experienced translator Louise (Amy Adams) to decode noises they've recorded, but her learning curve of communication with the visitors*1 is hampered by the un-cooperation of international governments, their sense of paranoia and increasingly itchy trigger-fingers…
All that's just one part of the film, of course, and not even the largest one. Running parallel to the muted Independence Day plot is a story of loss, grief and resolution, but always with an eye on the hypernatural. Make no mistake, the core of Arrival is distinctly heavyweight, yet only as much as the audience will want it to be. At times it's deliciously cynical; while the film tends to focus on the US-based response team itself, glimpses of news footage illustrate my own long-held belief that in the event of a grandiose extra-terrestrial arrival, general society would, to put it delicately, go completely to shit. So it's hardly a barrel of laughs for the times we're living in. Additionally, the Hard Sci-Fi™ part of the movie (ie, the nuts and bolts plot rather than what the film is actually about) can feel heavy-handed every time someone in a military uniform scowls and talks about nuking the Shells. That side of the story is one of the few things that its showier (albeit emptier) relative actually did quite well, although if I need reassurance that humanity are dicks, I can switch on the news, thanks.
But Arrival holds the attention. Much like the gradual communication breakthrough between Louise and the Heptapod visitors, the film takes a while to go from being interesting to being intriguing. The story never drags its heels, but the setups it carefully assembles during the first act are deliberately disingenuous. The payoff is worth it though, a section of the film I watched whilst grinning like an idiot.
If you couldn't tell by the trailer, this is really Amy Adams' movie, though and through. The supporting cast are reliable enough, but Forest Whitaker and Jeremy Renner appear to have been cast purely to give the poster of a philosophical sci-fi movie a bit more mainstream pull. Neither really have roles justifiable of the casting or with enough for them to actually do. Tonally it has more in common with director Villeneuve's Prisoners than most alien-invasion flicks, but the emotionally profound element seems to be fighting with an intriguing sci-fi plot device (which also seems to be fighting with the aforementioned impatient-man-in-camouflage-is-impatient). While the central elements of the screenplay are explained, I'd have liked to see them more thoroughly explored. But that's a discussion for next time.
Short version: The film stayed with me, I really enjoyed it.
I think the film's ending will be the real Rorschach test for audiences, though.
Not because the events are open to interpretation but, ironically, precisely the opposite.
Go and watch Arrival before somebody spoils it for you.
Jurassic Park, Prisoners, The Others.
No, really.
For the atmosphere and immersion, yes.
It does. Although probably not everything I wanted from it (hardly the fault of the film).
*1Heptopods, as the seven-legged, faceless creatures are dubbed in the film. While our view of the aliens is often limited, they reminded me a lot of a hyper-intelligent spider-phase of Dagobah's Gnarltrees.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Much like any documentary worth its salt, a well-executed biopic will take a subject you don't really know and make it captivating (at least for the run-time of the film, but ideally afterward, too). Cue Mr Don Cheadle, the (co-)writer, director and (co-)producer of Miles Ahead*1, a fittingly meandering study of American jazz musician, Miles Davis. Usually, that many credits being assigned to one person in a production (especially the lead actor) would set critical alarm bells ringing, but Cheadle commits himself completely to the role in what I can only call a transformative performance (in fact I'd be genuinely amazed if he hasn't now got stage-3 lung cancer from the number of cigarettes he smoked throughout the course of making the movie. Do they have special fake-film-fags, or something? I do hope so).
The story follows Davis in a purposely fallow period, trying (with a shambolic journalist in-tow) to recover a privately made session-tape stolen from his house by the record-label anxious to milk the cash-cow of Miles' success. Quizzing by his new biographer leads to a series of reminiscences, showing us Davis' earlier successes and the events which lead up to his self-imposed exile.
Making full use of framing devices and flashbacks, the film flits effortlessly around like the narrative equivalent of the music which serves as the foundation, but for all its time-hopping, never loses sight of the story it's telling. The thing is, I don't really speak jazz*2, but the J-word is laid to rest fairly early in proceedings, being brushed aside as an unnecessary and restrictive label*3. Truth be told, this film is far more about Miles Davis the man than Miles Davis the musician, even though his work is never dismissed or relegated. In addition to the fantastic looking 1970s setting of the central storyline, the escalating flashback sequences have a grainy quality that sets them aside visually, and places them in a separate timeframe far better than the sets or costumes could.
Although his performance is the centrepiece of the film, Miles Ahead is Cheadle flexing his directorial muscles and showing us that he's actually more powerful on the other side of the camera. That may well be due to his familiarity and enthusiasm for the subject, but it goes to show what creative-vision can bring to 'true story' film-making. Away from the considerable glare of the title-role, Emayatzy Corinealdi puts in a respectable turn as Davis' wife Frances throughout their turbulent relationship, although there's the feeling that a very different (but equally engaging) film could easily be made out of that thread (using the same cast, of course). Meanwhile, Ewan McGregor is having fun as Rolling Stone journalist Dave, even if he's effectively just a comic-foil and exposition-drawer for the larger than life Miles. The music itself is also a cast-member in its own right, but like I said, I don't really speak jazz so I'll leave that side of the film to those that do.
The longer Miles Ahead runs (it's only 100 minutes, but an exhausting 100 minutes), the more apparent it becomes that this is a meticulously assembled film, and far more than the sum of its parts.
Well, it's got a sort of Inherent Vice vibe to it, a little.
For full effect, although you shouldn't lose too much by catching it at home. Be in the mood for it, though, it's not a film to doze through.
I think it does.
Everyone concerned can be very proud of this being on their CV.
Nope.
Nope.
Level 1: Obi-Wan Kenobi's in it.
*1 Although really, come on. "Miles Ahead"? I know that mirrors the name of one of his albums, but it sounds like the title of a Christmas-release celebrity hardback which will be available in The Works for £3, come March.
*2 Blues, yes; jazz, no. Suspect I fear the lack of boundaries, or some-such.
*3 But again, really, come on. That's like when metal bands sniffily try to disown the label of 'metal', despite playing to metal crowds in metal venues and knowing full well they'll never be found in HMV in anything other than the metal-section.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Blue Jasmine Cert: 12A / 98 mins / Dir. Woody Allen
You know that thing, where you're in a cinema on a Saturday afternoon, and you're one of the youngest people there despite being forty, and all the ads are for luxury saloons and UK tourism, and during the film you hear the audience audibly laughing and you think "What was that for? That wasn't a 'JOKE'-joke, was it? I mean, I smirked, but I don't think it warranted a 'look at me, I really appreciate the layered humour in this subtle comedy", type guffaw, and then they do it again, and the more the audience laugh and you don't, the more you resent them for it, not because you feel stupid for not publicly registering the situational callbacks which have almost no inherent comedy value, but because their self-indulgent chuckling is like trying to clap the loudest at a classical concert, and for fuck's sake it just wasn't that funny anyway?
That.
And it's the second time this year it's happened. Next time I'll fucking shush them, I swear. Anyway. I went to see the new Woody Allen film, so what was I expecting?
So, for Blue Jasmine, I think Cate Blanchett is giving a stunningly understated performance of someone who's lost their grip on reality, in a moving and thought-provoking film that subtly draws you into wanting to know more about her damaged character. Unfortunately, she seems to be alone in such an endeavour (and I include Woody Allen in that). Everything surrounding Blanchett's Jasmine is a jumbled smugfest that can't successfully spin the plates of quirky comedy and troubling drama well enough to work cohesively.
At several points throughout the film, I realised I had no idea where the story itself was heading. This is largely because Blue Jasmine doesn't have a particularly strong narrative as such, and is more of a character piece. Sadly, too much time is spent in the company of characters who are lacking just that. The subplot with Jasmine's sister Ginger seems fairly inconsequential as she's not given enough depth or development for the audience to care about her. A lot of Jasmine's past is revealed in flashback sequences which are loosely scattered (with varying durations) throughout the film. Sometimes they support a timely reveal when we return to the present, but for the most part they don't: they're just illustrating events which have already been verbally described by Jasmine or those around her, earlier in the present-tense setting. Not funny enough to be a comedy; not deep enough to be a drama. There. I said it.
From the story and its associated issues, and from Cate Blanchett's performance, I think there's a stronger, more engaging film to be made of Blue Jasmine.
Just not by Woody Allen.
Oh, that's about it, yes.
Evidently not.
Oh, probably.
Just watch it on the telly, unless you're a Woody Allen fan in which case you're probably sat there tutting at me.
There's a chance of that.
I can't imagine so.
There isn't.
In the trailer, did you laugh at the line about the Xanax? Because I know about a hundred and fifty people who thought it was the funniest thing they'd heard all week, apparently.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
