Review: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
Cert: 15 / 112 mins / Dir. John Requa & Glenn Ficarra / Trailer



I don't always see films in which A-Ha's Take On Me is sung badly by one of the male characters, but when I do, I like to watch two in the same week. Mind you, the same also goes for Martin Freeman struggling under the weight of an accent that's not his own, so Whiskey Tango Foxtrot makes that a double occurrence, too. Especially since Freeman's also the one making Morten Harket spin in his premature grave…

This adaptation of the bestselling memoirs of TV war-correspondent Kim Barker goes the classic melodramatic route of peppering its first act with gags and witty asides, largely to be used as a direct comparison against the third act where all the drama and poignancy is. The problem is that WTF is neither as funny nor poignant as it'd like to think it is, and that's underlined by Tina Fey and Margot Robbie over-acting in almost every one of their scenes. Although the situation in Afghanistan was (is) extreme, gallows-humour requires a delicate touch, and there are many gradations of drama/comedy required in the emotional roller-coaster which is 'the modern war film'. While Fey/Robbie certainly don't de-rail that roller-coaster, their performances are either on one or ten, leaving it to the supporting cast to fill in the blanks. It also doesn't help that Tina Fey has a habit of pulling a comedy-face after delivering each joke*¹; you can take the girl out of SNL…

The film works on a bare-bones level, and I did care for the characters (even the aforementioned Martin Freeman's one, despite his vocal performance being a needless insult to Scotland), but I always felt like I should be caring more, somehow. I get the impression that a documentary on Kim Barker's work would be far more affecting, not least because it wouldn't feel the need to try so hard.

While Whiskey Tango Foxtrot skilfully (and thankfully) avoids flag-waving, the film struggles with the humanitarian side of modern warfare, which is pretty much its sole remit, when you think about it.

Co-directors John Requa and Glenn Ficarra do their best of making unlikeable characters valued and unbearable situations compelling, but I can't help feel that a lot has been lost on the journey from page to screen…

Self-indulgent drama like Burnt.



The cinema's not going to be essential to enjoying this, no.



Personally, I don't think so.
Although I seem to be in a minority.



No, everyone on-board here has been more focused in other movies.



Probably not.



Definitely not.



Level 2: Alfred Molina turns up in this, and he was in Raiders of the Lost Ark along with that Harrison 'Solo' Ford chap...





And seriously though, look at that…


Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. Seat F14. Bastards.
I saw five movies that day (a new personal record), and all I wanted was seat F12 for my Cineworld Ticket-Stub Bingo win. But not only was that seat taken when I booked, the guy was already in it when I got into the auditorium. The only person in there. Doing a crossword, of all things. Like the fucker had been parked-up all day*², just so that I wouldn't win the prize.
What an absolute bastard.
Because my showings were so close together, I couldn't book them all online as the system classes anything starting within 45 minutes of the previous film as 'overlapping', so only the on-site staff can over-ride that. You can't plan this shit, you know; you only win Cineworld Ticket-Stub Bingo with a combination of luck and skill.
I've heard the prize is fantastic, although no-one there will tell me what it is.
But I suppose there's always next time…


*¹ Although Fey's to-camera mugging pales in comparison to the 'Kabul's first female driver' spot, in which she watches the joke occur and then literally explains to the audience why it's funny. And unlike a Stewart Lee routine, it's not given any new level of nuance by this happening.

*² He hadn't, obviously, as I'd seen Angry birds in the seat between us both not half an hour earlier. But still.

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.

Review: Poltergeist

Poltergeist (2015) (3D)
Cert: 15 / 94 mins / Dir. Gil Kenan / Trailer



Picture the scene. A slightly drab office interior in Hollywood, California. A battered table seats a room of weary junior film execs, tasked with reinvigorating a classic franchise for today's demanding audience. Today, 'horror' is on the agenda, and one cocksure young upstart has just the answer: "Okay you guys, what's scarier than a clown-doll?" … "Uh, I dunno Johnny, what?" … "Ha! A whole goddamn BOX of clown-dolls!"… "KER-CHING! Then they can come to goddamn LIFE with the poltergeists moving them!" Yes, welcome to #FridayAfternoonScreenwritingClub, where cliche is the currency and only the laziest survive. You'll be finished the script and in the pub by 3:30.

Because the world was crying out for a remake of Poltergeist which does absolutely nothing new with either the story or the genre.

Now in all fairness, in terms of your classic Haunted House Horror™, Poltergeist is only ever as 'bad' as the original, but it's never as good. The intervening years have not been kind to the format. The real problem with a flat-out 'remake' is that you also port over all the things (from a writing point-of-view) which make the film feel dated because they've been flogged to death in the years between the original outing and the new one. Although lets not be too precious about the 1982 flick; it was great for its time, but it hasn't aged particularly well and it spawned two unnecessary sequels and a TV series.

You've got to feel for poor old Sam Rockwell, now cast into 'dad' roles and mumbling his way through the film with an embarrassed contrition akin to a teenager who's been recognised going into a church by two classmates, and who's hoping they'll pretend they didn't see him when Monday comes. We saw you, Sam. We all fucking saw you. Luckily the pressure's taken off Rockwell in the third act when Jared Harris arrives to shoulder the enormous burden of eccentric cliché and further devalue his already patchy CV. Worse yet, Jared seems to have borrowed Colin Farrell's accent to do it with. God help us all.

And the audibly sensitive will be saddened to learn that Poltergeist is another horror flick with the volume set to 'far too high'. AGAIN. Serious questions for those of you in the know: Is the audio-level locked automatically on digital films these days, or do the projection-staff*¹ get a note giving them the recommended volume? If it's the first one, is there an override? If it's the second, does anyone know of any cinemas who actively discard such 'advice' and use their common sense when it comes to not wrecking the hearing of their audience? And the 3D: yeah, whatever mate.

Oh, and how the fuck can screenwriter David Linsday-Abaire justify gimmicking-in some GPS trackers and an iPad controlled drone for the film's finale, when the lost spirits of the damned have spent the entire film beforehand disrupting every electrical item they float past??

Like its stablemates, Carrie and A Nightmare On Elm Street, Poltergeist is so close to the original film as to render it artistically pointless. Worst of all, the film is barely even 'creepy', let alone scary. As horror movies go, there's no greater failure.

Fuck it, I've seen worse.
But what kind of justification is that for a film as half-arsed as this?

No.



A better option still would just be to imagine the mixture of vague disappointment and boredom you'll inevitably feel by watching this.



Get out of my house.



…what, to make you actually miss Craig T Nelson?



I will, yes.



There isn't, no.



Poor ol' Sam Rockwell appeared in 2005's Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, as did Warwick 'Wicket' Davis.







*¹ I know they can't really be called 'projectionists' any more, but I also know it's not the same job as the folks who serve you the popcorn.

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.