A far more nuanced film than the title would suggest, A Most Violent Year is a certainly performance-based piece, rather than narratively. That's not to say that the story's lacking at all, but it's certainly pretty linear, with the escalation of events riding a steady, upward curve throughout.
Oscar Isaac channels his best Frankie Valli as Abel Morales, a legitimate businessman trying to expand a domestic heating oil company in New York in 1981, and whose competitors are somewhat less scrupulous when it comes to what they see as professional rivals. A little like the second-act of Scarface but with less blow and more admin, the film is beautifully shot, even if it feels like the Instagram Earlybird filter is turned up full-belt for the whole two hours. Isaac isn't alone of course, and the dramatic weight is shared by Jessica Chastain giving a performance full of barely restrained fury.
Despite setting the mood perfectly, it can feel like the narrative's holding something back, even during its infrequent moments of promised violence. The escalation of the events in the story is a little linear, but I give it a pass for Chastain and Isaac alone, notwithstanding a strong supporting cast headed by David Oyelowo. Isaac seems to flourish more in vintage or period roles than he does in modern ones, and I'll be interested to see what he brings to Poe Dameron in December's Star Wars: The Force Awakens, where the setting will be undeniably otherworldly, but with director JJ Abrams' retro-aesthetic applied to the saga.
Quietly enjoyable if a little underwhelming on the dramatic front, is A Most Violent Year a story which needed telling?
Not particularly, but it's a gorgeous looking and fluidly told one nonetheless.
Perhaps not. Orange Wednesday or Cheap Tuesday for this one.
It's probably a buy-er, but once it comes down to about a fiver.
I'd say it's up there, certainly, but I also think there's better to come from the central cast.
It probably does.
Not really.
There ain't.
Oscar Isaac will appear in 2015's Star Wars: The Force Awakens, while David Oyelowo is the voice of Agent Kallus in Star Wars Rebels.
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.
Oh, Mark. Marky, Marky Mark. He keeps trying, I have to give him that. The problem with Wahlberg is that he's never out-and-out bad, he's just rarely good enough. The Gambler extends the general rule of 'did they mean to cast him in this, or did someone else drop out?'
Rupert Wyatt's vaguely soporific film about about a gambler (full marks for the title, at least) watching his life spiral out of control, feels like it has more to say, but can't articulate itself with Wahlberg as its mouthpiece. Unless of course, the audience is supposed to feel as noncommittally numb to the impending violence as the central character does? Wahlberg has the malaise to pull off the role of the emotionally (not to mention financially) bankrupt Jim, but not the gravitas.
It's one thing to show us that Jim is trapped in a downward spiral of ill-thought decisions, but the few characters in the film who do care about him are given so little expansion that you end up sitting with Jim in the atmosphere-free bubble as things go from bad to worse, more an observer of events than the viewer of a film. The story isn't about Jim's descent into roulette-fuelled chaos since he's pretty much at the bottom of the pile when we meet him. It's more about his failure to willfully ascend, and in that Wahlberg succeeds, at least.
The Gambler almost goes so far as to present problem-gambling without judgement, other than the self-evident condemnation of a protagonist it's impossible to root for. But It's almost as if the film either can't explain the psychology of gambling addiction, or just doesn't want to try. Although maybe this isn't the film for people who don't see the appeal of long-odds gambling*1?
In movies like this, there's a fine line between over-explaining how each card-game works, thus patronising the players in the audience, and just assuming that everyone knows the mechanics of the games and losing those that don't, as a result. The Gambler rides this line (to its credit), but sticking to Blackjack and Roulette, which is about as cliched as the film gets. The script's tendency to avoid lazy and dramatic gambling/gangster tropes is, ironically, one of its main weaknesses. It steers clear of the usual casino-based pitfalls, but offers little new in return, somehow.
If there's a silver lining to the cloud, it's John Goodman and his overbearing yet subtle magnificence, bringing the only real energy to the script, but far too infrequently for my liking.
Like too many films recently, The Gambler is by no means 'bad', but when I'm watching a character go through a living nightmare due to their own bad choices and bad luck, I should probably feel a little more… well, connected, somehow. But if the lead character's not going to try, why should I?
Hmm, Orange Wednesday's tops (hurry, while you still can).
Unless you're a Wahlberg completist, you'll probably only watch it the once, so a rental.
Not even close.
That, I honestly don't know.
Nope.
There isn't.
Wahlberg starred in the US remake of The Italian Job alongside Seth Green, who was the voice of the droid Todo 360 in Star Wars: The Clone Wars.
*1 Wow, I used the word 'Gamble' far too much in that paragraph. Can't be helped, though. Bah.
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.
You see, the thing is right, it's not that I dislike Johnny Depp. There's a list (a short list, but a list) of performers who aggravate me every time they face towards a camera, but Johnny's not on it. I just can't get enthusiastic about his films as I find him to be a very lazy performer, both in terms of his tried and tested array of facial expressions, and the roles he chooses to utilise them in. I'm sure he's lovely, but he's like the guy at the party with the acoustic guitar who only knows one song*1.
Anyway, the Enforced British Zaniness of Mortdecai rumbles its way onto our screens early in 2015, because the world apparently couldn't wait for Austin Powers 4. The story (based around one of a set of popular vintage novels) has a 1960s art-heist ethos, but a present day setting complete with high-action and stylised transitions. These don't sit nearly as well together as director David Koepp would have liked, I fear, and the result is a bit of a mess (in much the same way as Gambit struggled to find the same balance). It's not that the film isn't frequently amusing, but it's trying way too hard to be Irreverent™, and I'm left with the feeling that it's doing a massive disservice to a much loved series of books.
Whether it's the moustache-jokes which wear thin after about six minutes but still keep arriving like London buses, or the work of a scriptwriter who seems to have mistaken "balls" as the punchline to a joke (twice), Mortdecai lacks the precision and restraint to be a really effective comedy. That said, even I have to admit that Paul Bettany vomiting onto a windscreen during a car-chase is a highlight. Particularly since Bettany seems to be the only actor employing any level of actual deadpan.
In fairness to the cast though, when your central characters are played by two Americans and a Scotsman, all pulling off flawless Queen's English accents, that is an achievement worth showing off. I only wish the makers had spent more time on the screenplay than they did on the casting.
Warning: Features Paul Whitehouse doing comedy cross-eyes and needlessly resurrecting the comedic corpse of Stavros. It's not unfair to say that with Whitehouse's presence and the plot revolving around theft from stately homes, the film feels a bit like an extended Aviva advert.
Oh, and is Olivia Munn a real person, then? I'd only heard of her and thought she was a fictional character like Nicki Minaj.
Over-written and over-acted, Mortdecai is a casually enjoyable enough art-heist yarn, but this modern impressionist seems to believe it's an old master.
Do you see what I did, there?
I did An Art Joke™.
That's one more than the film does.
I don't think it is, in all honesty.
Unless you're a Depp/Bettany fan, you could probably get away with renting this one.
I'm afraid not (although again, Bettany's comedy-chops are great here).
Not even close.
Nah.
I didn't hear one.
Why, Mortdecai stars Ewan McGregor of course, the Prequel-era Obi-Wan Kenobi.
*1 And no, that's not me. I know loads of songs, although they do all tend to use the same chords. That's not the same thing. No, you shut up.
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.
From several very interesting, if oddly non-committal, trailers comes what I can only describe as a grinning fucking powerhouse of a film. The writing team of Matthew Vaughn and Jane Goldman (Kick-Ass, X-Men First Class) bring Kingsman: The Secret Service to our screens, with the charm and ethos of an old-school Bond movie and the language and violence of... well, Kick-Ass.
Spy-flick tropes and tributes are presented, name-checked and given a playful clip round the ear in this tale of a young ne'er do well inducted into a highly secretive intelligence agency just in time to save the world from a technology wielding maniac. As well as the sophisticated British sleekness and massive amounts of gleeful (yet surprisingly dry) violence, the film is above all fun. Ridiculous amounts of fun. It would have been easy to rely on the Austin Powers route for the film's laughs, but thankfully outright-silliness isn't really on the agenda in Kingsman (well, other than the 'rule the world' silliness which is inherent to this sort of thing anyway). The laughs are there, but they're based around the characters themselves, or some good old fashioned swearing. I can honestly say I haven't been this entertained by a movie since Iron Man 3 (or Avengers if IM3 wasn't your bag).
Colin Firth, Samuel L Jackson, Taron Egerton, Sofia Boutella, Sophie Cookson, Mark Strong, Mark Hamill: all outstanding. Michael Caine is Michael Caine, but that's not necessarily a bad thing in this instance. Hey, he's good at being Michael Caine.
On the downside (and there's always a downside), Kingsmanis about 20 minutes too long overall, and there are one or two of moments of questionable humour which momentarily pulled me out of my reverie*1. That said, I won't go into those points here as I can't dissect them without delving into plot and character developments, and they still don't tarnish what - for me - is an absolute contender for Film Of The Year (yes, another one. Already).
A joyously foul-mouthed triumph of style and adrenaline, Kingsman does for KC and the Sunshine Band what Shaun of the Dead did for Queen.
Manners maketh the man; please do go and see Kingsman: The Secret Service.
It certainly is.
It's a buyer; massive re-watch potential, here.
In the case of Firth and Jackson, it just might.
Indeed.
*looks over spectacles...*.
I must admit that in all the excitement I wasn't actually listening out for one.
Kingsman is the only place you're going to find Mark 'Skywalker' Hamill and Sam 'Windu' Jackson bonding over a 1962 scotch whisky this year.
*1 Although The Church Scene wasn't one of them. I don't care what anyone says, I thought that was fucking immense.
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.
From: Dr. Abiola Richard
Date: 17 January 2015
To: Blackout
Subject: RE-OUTSTANDING PAYMENT
Good day, this is to inform you of your Long overdue Payment outstanding in our Banking records .I saw your name in the Central Computer among list of unpaid inheritance claims individuals and have to update your information’s through this email contact for immediate confirmation .
Your name appeared among the beneficiaries who will receive a part-payment of US$10.500, 000 million (Ten million five hundred thousand United State dollars) and it has been approved already for payment months ago.
However we received an email from one, DAVID WAYNE SCARBERRY of BLUFFTON OHIO USA , who told us that he is your next of kin and that you died in a car accident last four months back. He has also submitted his account information’s to the office department for transfer of the fund to him as your inheritor. Below are the new banking details we received from DAVID WAYNE SCARBERRY
Bank name: Bank of America
Address: 115 E COLLEGE AVE A2 BLUFFTON OHIO 45817
ABA: (all other)
ABA: (International)
ACCT. #: ACCT Name: FMS Investments Inc.
We are now verifying by contacting your email address as we have in our Bank records before we can make the transfer into his account and for us to conclude confirmation if you are dead or not. Please, confirm response immediately before our action release of the outstanding payment against your name listed out. Upon this, I request you send your full personal information as soon as possible to enable this department finalize the transfer of the fund release to your nominated foreign Bank Account. This department needs the following information’s from you urgently.
Once again, I apologize to you on behalf of International Monetary fund Agency towards this contact and proper confirmation required urgently from you if alive.
Thanks,
Yours Sincerely
Dr Abiola Richard
International Monetary Fund Agency
From: Blackout
Date: 26th January 2015
To: Dr. Abiola Richard
Subject: Re: RE-OUTSTANDING PAYMENT
Dear Dr. Richard,
(Aside: You need to work on that. You and I both know that you're a fully qualified doctor working for the IMF, but if you were introduced to me at a dinner party as "Doctor Richard", I'd probably assume you were one of those TV quacks that sits on a sofa opposite Phil Schofield, offering broad and non-legally-binding advice to the unemployed about exercise, haemorrhoids and vaginal dryness. Assuming that isn't one of your sidelines (you're an expert on cashflow after all, and I imagine there's money to be made in that), I think this may be adversely affecting your "first impression" score. Just a thought.)
Now, to business. Many thanks for your e-mail of the 17th January pointing out that my uncle David in Ohio believes I am dead (Aside: Long story short, I was indeed involved in a traffic collision last October; dead-on-table, several minutes, bright-light, defibrillator paddles, shit everywhere, no longer dead). If it wasn't for the fact that the greedy old bastard's trying to nab my part of an inheritance, I'd be more than happy for him to go on believing that. His Christmas cards are tedious to the point of offensiveness, and I have a vague memory of him touching me inappropriately when I was four and he'd plied me with sherry at a family party. It's not that I hate the man (as I said, it's only a very vague memory), but I'd quite happily fake my own funeral to get out of maintaining obligatory politeness with the fucker. And indeed did, in fact.
As to your actual query, I have all the details you require and am ready to e-mail them to you (Aside: although I notice you haven't asked for my bank account information; I assume that this is the IMF being security conscious - well done, you). My full name, contact address and number, age, occupation and sex are all here ready to go. In fact, all the information apart from my fax number, I'm afraid.
The advent of e-mail meant that I disconnected my fax machine in 2012, since the only transmissions I was receiving were junk-faxes offering to sell me fax-machine toner (ironically), and images of what appeared to be the photocopied anus of an unspecified sender with an Ohio fax number. Obviously an organisation like the one you work for prides itself on accuracy, transparency and completeness, and so I shall send no details until I can comply fully with your request.
To facilitate this, I have ordered a Brother FAX8360P machine from Argos at a cost of £299.99 (which I don't mind too much, given the sum I am about to inherit), which will be ready for me to pick up on Thursday. I have also instructed British Telecom to reinstate my fax-line, at an additional cost of £79.99 +VAT (same rules apply). Unfortunately, BT say they have re-assigned my old fax number to a local playgroup, and have informed me that a new number will take 14 business days to set up (which is frankly ridiculous when you think about it). I told them how much was riding on this but they wouldn't be budged. I suppose ten and a half million is loose-change to the likes of them, eh?
And so I am writing to ask you to temporarily halt the financial transfer proceedings until I am able to respond fully to your information request (but please take this as notice that I am very much alive. Don't listen to a word that 'Fingers' Scarberry tells you). I trust that this will not be too much trouble as we're dealing with a significant amount of money here. I also notice that you haven't actually said who I'm inheriting the money from, although you'd be correct in thinking that I don't particularly care.
I thank you for your diligence and patience in this matter, and look forward to concluding our business in a timely and efficient matter.
Sincerely,
Blackout
Actually, it could have been my uncle Dennis, now I think about it. He's on a register.
2015! Considering that this mind-and-morality bending thriller doesn't feature Morgan Freeman as a scientist who seems to know nothing about science, Ex Machina has already won on points before the opening titles are over…
A 26yr old coder named Caleb working for a multi-national search engine company, wins an exployee-exclusive competition to spend a week with his reclusive genius boss, Nathan, at his remote home/laboratory. Once there, Caleb finds he's been specially selected to help run a series of tests on a groundbreaking new AI platform, Ava; the philosophical problem arises at where to draw the line between advanced artificial intelligence and bonafide sentience…
So, given that movies based on advanced/theoretical science can often 'slip the lead' of their writers and go tearing around the park out of control, it's a relief that Ex Machina is quite compactly told. The concept for the film is efficient enough that it never really needs to stray far from its own path (usual thriller rules apply here: second-guess plot developments at the peril of your own subsequent disappointment), and the intrigue surrounding Ava's personality is relatively short-lived as she has so much screen-time that it quickly becomes apparent exactly how advanced she is.
Far more interesting are the central performances. Domnhall Gleeson is pretty much the emotional-introvert he played in About Time, although the persona works every bit as well here, too. Oscar Isaac puts in a good (if intentionally unlikable, so good) turn as a genius corporate megalomaniac. But it's really Alicia Vikander who steals the show as Ava (with some not inconsiderable support from Sonoya Mizuno), the simulated person that's arguably more human than anyone else in the film. Set in a mountain hideaway with a primary cast of four characters, the claustrophobia you'd expect never quite closes in, although that doesn't always work in the film's favour.
My only real gripe is that the films of this ilk often leave the viewer with points for an expanded discussion or further reading on its themes, whereas Ex Machina seems quite happy to spend more time answering questions than it does asking them. It's certainly true that the performances are more complex than the story. Either way, I still loved it and another viewing is called for in short order.
Part satire, part thought-experiment*1, Ex Machina is a thematic re-tooling of both Blade Runner and Prometheus. If I was Ridley Scott, I'd be considering my next two sci-fi sequels very carefully indeed…
Oh, and how are you pronouncing this? I've been saying Ex Machina, but I've heard it said Ex Machina. It's like The Desolation of Smaug all over again…
If philosophical sci-fi's your thing, yes .
Rent (I'm still undecided as to the mass-rewatch value).
It's certainly 'up there' for the three leads, but difficult to tell if it's their best.
It does.
No, but I'll have a lengthy list of questions for you…
There isn't.
Domhnall Gleeson and Oscar Isaac both star in this year's Star Wars: The Force Awakens.
*1 But also part 'slightly worrying layer of misogyny' too, if I'm being entirely honest. But that's a subject which will be discussed far more thoroughly elsewhere than I can hope to achieve here, so I'll settle for at least just mentioning it.
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.
