The A-word.
It's the bane of cinephiles, everywhere.
That book you love; the comic you remember; the show you used to watch; the game you lost an entire summer playing? Oh, someone's adapted it and it's getting made into a movie! Whether a cause for pre-emptive celebration or foreboding caution, it leads to only one thing: expectation. And expectation is the death of the 'clean' movie-viewing experience; no matter how closely the film sticks to its source material, or how much it tries to distance itself, it will be faced with the hurdle of comparison.
And while the movie industry loves the pre-built marketing buzz of 'now a major motion picture!', they loathe the comparative references which will be made from the first review onwards. Because many punters will expect to get exactly the same reaction from a completely different medium, to a story they already know. And therein lies the problem.
In this monthly series, we'll look back at some of the most respected and best-loved properties which have made the perilous journey to the big screen; often with some controversy, and almost always with far too much hype. This isn't so much a review of the films themselves, more an appraisal of their suitability as an adaptation.
And so, the final stretch of Adaptation's televisual leg moves forward to its next decade, smack-bang in the middle of the 1980s when social and political unrest in the UK was a given, and everyone somehow got by with the perpetual fear that nuclear annihilation may well arrive before the weekend did (cf. what I was saying last month about 'inappropriate synchronicity'). It stood to reason then that a six-part conspiracy-thriller in the post-watershed 9pm slot would do fairly well, but Edge of Darkness flourished so much that the BBC2 drama was repeated on BBC1 a month later and went on to win six BAFTAs. While I was definitely of TV-consuming age in 1985*1, this type of thing wasn't exactly on my radar, hence me watching it for the first time now, and without the tinted lenses of nostalgia.
The story follows Ronnie Craven (played by Bob Peck*2), a police inspector from Yorkshire who attempts to unravel the murder of his daughter Emma (Joanne Whalley), an environmental activist trying to expose a cover-up at a British nuclear waste processing plant. But the path of truth (let alone justice) is never smooth nor straight, and Craven soon finds himself mingling with the top brass of the Ministry of Defence, the CIA not to mention those with a more commercial interest in the matter…
The mistrust surrounding the nuclear industry and governmental authority in general make this very much a thing of its time (there's at least more education these days about nuclear processes). Outside of our main protagonist, it's not entirely clear who 'the bad guys' really are at the start, middle or end of the tale, which only serves to make them all the more compelling. Among the supporting players are distinguished character actors such as Ian McNeice, Hugh Fraser, Joe Don Baker, Zoë Wanamaker, Charles Kay and John Woodvine; familiar faces to TV audiences, but always willing to submerge themselves in their roles, here as untrustworthy types all round.
Not that it's all po-faced realism, though*3. The series is as much a study of grief as it is a political / ecological / conspiracy thriller. Although Emma dies early in the first episode, Ronnie continues to both see and converse with her, as he tries to come to terms with what's happened, to the point where she leads him toward clues surrounding the case. Their interactions are at odds with the rest of the procedural-aspect but not unwelcome at all, being the one wild-card the screenplay has constantly up its sleeve. This surreal factor is grounded by the documentary-style camerawork and terse scripting, the length and frequency of Emma's 'visits' correlating directly with her father's level of emotional stability and focus.
Speaking of focus, there's some beautiful tracking camerawork on display, a bystander's point-of-view syncing with characters moving in and out of the lengthy shots. Generally speaking it's the kind of cinematography that the pacing of a film doesn't really allow for (certainly not to the extent it's used here), whereas director Martin Campbell has around five and a half hours to tell writer Troy Kennedy Martin's story, allowing for a lot of great 'character' moments. And while I'm on with the more technical aspects of production, as nice as it is to have Eric Clapton's guitar-work on the soundtrack, he's going to wear out that riff if he's not careful. Although like most TV before our current age this wasn't really meant to be binge-watched, so the hooks of weekly scheduling can quickly become repetitive*4.
From the outset, there's the feeling that the programme isn't sharing as many secrets as it could be. Not that it's saving them up for the finale necessarily, just that since the story is told almost exclusively from Ronnie's point of view, there'll be a fair amount that he doesn't uncover personally (with the writer being completely unafraid to leave behind previously-pivotal characters once the story's location shifts). Scenes 'external' to Ronnie's immediate thread take place to keep the audience in the loop, but only as much as the narrative flow requires.
So it was some relief when I watched the disc one bonus features (namely a segment from the long-running review show Did You See) and saw the critic-panel remarking that at three episodes in, they weren't entirely sure what was going on half the time. Which is good because I thought it was just me. All becomes clear in the end, or as clear as it needs to be at any rate. Although it almost didn't; Troy Kennedy Martin originally wanted push the reality-envelope and have Ronnie to turn into a tree. Spoiler - that doesn't happen. Well, not quite…
Intriguing in scope and satisfying in execution, if Edge of Darkness were made in this day and age it would probably explore the elements of psychosis and spiritualism more deeply. Of course, a movie released a mere seven years ago pretty much is in this day and age, so let's take a look...
Landing in our cinemas back in 2010, I watched this at the time (before I started reviewing everything here) but didn't recall too much about it*5 (which is partly why I started reviewing everything here). While Troy Kennedy Martin's story has been adapted for the big screen by William Monahan and Andrew Bovell, original series director Martin Campbell has returned, which lends a sense of continuity at least (and with BBC Films getting a production-ident).
Watching in relation to its televisual forebear however, the changes other than shortened run-time are interesting in their counterpoints. The heathland of Yorkshire becomes the rocky coastline of Massachusetts; Bob Peck's grieving British father becomes the American Mel Gibson, while the American 'security expert' and uneasy ally of Joe Don Baker becomes the British Ray Winstone (it's also curious to note that our hero goes from being Ronnie Craven to Tommy). The core storyline of an assassinated daughter and government/corporate nuclear conspiracy still remains, but how it's expanded out is markedly different*6.
The key divergence here is that Mel Gibson's Craven doesn't spend the film talking with Emma. His daughter's 'adult' voice is heard in the scenes immediately following her death, but the film doesn't go as far as having her physically appear*7, which undercuts the severity of Tommy's fight against total psychological breakdown. There are several appearances by his child-aged daughter, but they're framed more as vivid flashbacks than full-on hallucinations.
And naturally, Mel brings his own style to the proceedings. While his furtive brooding is certainly on-par with Peck's, this telling becomes less of a metaphysical conspiracy puzzle and more a procedural revenge thriller. Gibson can do a lot of things, but 'concerned everyman' isn't one of them, his theatrical scowling only topped by Mr Winstone in a role that's no longer Craven's behavioural diametric opposite. The nuclear aspect is also ramped up a little heavy-handedly, but the original BBC version probably didn't look particularly subtle back in '85 either, I imagine.
Best line:"…you're in a position where you'd better decide if you're hangin' on the cross, or bangin' in the nails.". I'd be lying if I said I'm not now looking for an opportunity to use this in a conversation at work.
So, they re-made the 1985 drama in this day and age, and didn't explore the things which made the original work interesting. Okay.
A serviceable (if ultimately forgettable) action-thriller, Edge of Darkness has a decent go of capturing the politics and mechanics of the original story at a brisker pace, even if that means jettisoning the philosophical baggage and going Full Neeson in the process…
It bears all the hallmarks of mid-80s televisual drama, but yes.
It's not as good as I remember. Then again, in 2010 I hadn't just finished watching a far more nuanced version of the same story.
Either will work as Sunday night entertainment, but you'll get more out of putting six hours aside for the company of Bob Peck.
For the film version...
Level 1: In a break from my usual front-of-camera comparisons, I'm going to go for Mr Steve Mair, who played double-bass in the orchestra for Edge of Darkness as well as for The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi.
*1 While I've mentioned plenty of times before that I generally navigate the chronology of my life by the release of Star Wars films, it's also true that my first fifteen years or so also use TV programmes as pegs in the ground, the next fifteen are attributed to the release of rock/metal albums and anything after that is cinema in general. [ BACK ]
*2 Man, I fucking love Bob 'they remember' Peck. Early on, I thought I was going to have A Macnee Moment™ in realising that Ronnie Craven, this dour, determined middle-aged man on the edge of breaking, may well be the same age me (a sprightly 44), casting chronological and dramatic disparity between the performer and the audience once again. Not to worry, though! Peck was born in 1945, which means that when Edge of Darkness was being filmed, he was actually 4-5 years younger than I am now… [ BACK ]
*3 Seriously, if you think computer-hacking sequences are painful to watch now, you should see how the BBC were doing it in '85. From the information the MI-5 computer gives out based on the 'commands' typed in, you'd think it had a psychic-awareness-modulator plugged into the back … [ BACK ]
*5 Other than being the start of my obsession with screen-performers mangling the Boston/Massachusetts accent, in particular. It's not even an accent I can do myself, I just know when it's being recreated badly. [ BACK ]
*6 Of course, it was only after watching the preceding six hours of television plus bonus content that I noticed that the movie DVD has a featurette titled 'adapting the Edge Of Darkness mini-series'. Which, I'll be honest, sort of makes you wonder why you bother. During this short add-on (it's three and a half minutes, which is less time than you'll spend reading this rambling), screenwriter William Monahan is on-camera as saying "The series… really shouldn't hang over this film at all. It's only the premise". And that, William, is why Adaptation is happening at all. Because it does hang over the whole thing. All cover-versions do. I suspect you're saying this because you know it's a lie but you feel it's a one you must refute, William. I'm onto you. And on a physical-media related note (and one which is not-at-all-the-fault-of-the-filmmakers), the DVD transfer of this movie is appalling. There are interlacing lines all over the shop and the default volume level is 'barely audible'. This disc was released in 2010, it's not like DVD was a new format then. Icon Entertainment should be mortified. [ BACK ]
*7 Although oddly, Emma does appear at the end of the movie, which I remember thinking odd when I saw the film in 2010. Without the context of Tommy speaking with his daughter throughout the story, it makes almost no sense and hints at another cut of the movie (or draft of the screenplay, at least) which explored this more thoroughly. [ 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.
Although I've marked this review as containing spoilers, you can rest assured that the only person who has actually spoiled Flatliners is screenwriter Ben Ripley. There, I said it.
Get your clicking/tapping finger ready, there are footnotes…
A retooling of the Joel Schumacher's 1990 movie of the same name, the story revolves around five medical students, working in a hospital's Department of Unfeasibly Attractive Junior Doctors (Courtney played by Ellen Page, Ray by Diego Luna, Nina Dobrev's Marlo, James Norton's Jamie and Kiersey Clemons as Sophia), who synthesise near-death experiences*1 in order to document the effects on the human brain and record their observations upon returning*2. But as they each brush against the void's threshold, it seems they're bringing back more than just research material.
I should add at this early point that I saw the first Flatliners movie a couple of times back in the day, but it didn't leave enough of an impression that I've bought, rented or streamed it during the intervening years. One would perhaps think that this freedom from nostalgic baggage would open the door to a more easy-going 2017 experience. Oh that it were so simple. It could be charitably said that Oplev's film perfectly captures the naive spirit*3 and execution of its progenitor and surrounding cinematic era. In many ways, storytelling has (at least superficially) evolved over the past two and a half decades; Flatliners has at least lived up to its name. It's not even as interesting as the poster up top, there.
To their eternal credit, the cast are doing their best with a cack-handed screenplay*4 and still failing. Keifer Sutherland is in this for no reason (which is to say that the film is a remake rather than a sequel and he doesn't play an older version of his character from the first film, plus he has nothing to do but limp (literally) through each of his dialogue-heavy scenes). After fifteen minutes of stilted banter, Captain Obvious exclamations*5, and inane reactions it becomes clear that things won't get any better*6.
When it comes to delivering the chills and shocks of the story however, Flatliners is on firmer ground at least. Although these are used so sparsely that you'd swear blind the movie only remembers it has a supernatural element every twenty minutes or so. And if it's by-the-numbers horror you're after, that's hardly a rarity in 2017*7. Also on the plus-side, the audio-design is nicely implemented throughout, with the surrounds fully utilised rather than just blaring at the audience from all corners simultaneously.
But for a movie which explains itself so much, you'd be forgiven for expecting it to make more sense. I think it's fair to say that science and logic do not have sufficiently large roles in this film that they'd be included in the credits list*8.
As a psychological thriller/horror, Flatliners is erratic and substandard. As a parable about professional and personal ethics, it's downright excruciating. Our heroes eventually work out that they're not just being haunted by visions of their deceased and wronged loved ones, but also people who are still alive (and have no fucking clue that this is subsequently going on). So the survivors*9 gradually track down past nemeses/victims and apologise. Now, I don't remember the original version of this story beginning as Final Destination then turning into My Name Is Earl in the third act, but like I said, it's been a while.
Our final revelation comes in the form of Courtney appearing to Marlo in her final defibrillated-excursion to tell her "…owning up to your mistakes is one thing, but you have to forgive yourself!"*10.
Well, I hope that salves the conscience of Ben Ripley, if nothing else…
I didn't go into the cinema wanting to hate Flatliners, and I didn't come out wanting to award it such a low score. But after everything I've written here, I can hardly justify giving it anything higher…
*1 Serious question: Why has a working hospital got a fully functional CT scanner just sitting in pristine, operating condition down in the basement? [ BACK ]
*2 Right seriously though, Courtney's introductory justification for the experimentation is (and I'm quoting here - I wrote this shit down) "If the brain is just another organ, why doesn't it just go dark when we die?" Er, I dunno, perhaps because it's the most massively complex part of the body which governs all survival instincts so why would it instantly blink out in the event of anything other than a blunt-force head trauma? Alas, she continues "What if we could map what happens after you die?" …well you could only map the brain up until the point it dies, couldn't you? You're talking about coming back and discussing your spiritual experiences, precisely none of which involves that CT scanner there. The way you're planning things is like trying to analyse the flavour of a souffle by examining the cooling oven after it's been taken out. Now I'm admittedly a lot more cynical than I was in 1990; I wasn't expecting a documentary guys, but at least try to make your fiction sound plausible and/or sincere… [ BACK ]
*3 If I recall correctly, the Schumacher's movie had a vaguely hipster-vibe. Our protagonists then were the cool kids at the back of the lecture who sneer at the tutor but still pass with full marks. By comparison, this film is in special after-school remedial classes, but is still too disruptive during lessons to evoke any sympathy. [ BACK ]
*4"I… hope this doesn't become awkward" says Marlo, immediately after the most cringe-inducing sex scene you've watched since that time you were in the living room with your parents during a Dennis Potter teleplay... [ BACK ]
*5 Jamie in the basement: "If the school finds out we've been flatlining, we will be expelled!". Thanks mate, I think there were a couple of people in the back row who hadn't already worked that out over the past fucking hour and a half. [ BACK ]
*6 Jamie on the roof: "We're safe, no-one ever comes up here!". Well twenty minutes ago it seemed like no-one ever comes down to the basement, either. What the fuck kind of hospital are they running with all these rooms and machinery doing nowt? [ BACK ]
*7 Speaking of which, in much the same vein as mother! a couple of weeks ago, the demographically-selected trailers before today's techno-chiller were for The Ritual, Jigsaw, The Snowman, Blade Runner 2049 and… A Bad Moms Christmas. Yes, really. Again. I honestly believe that Huayi Bros and STX films are just flinging shit at the wall at this point, and seeing what sticks. [ BACK ]
*8 Why is there no number-plate on Marlo's Mini Cooper? Seriously, front and back. Nothing. Other cars in the film have got them., but not hers. WHY DID I EVEN NOTICE THIS? [ BACK ]
*9 By which I mean everyone but Courtney and Ray. Because Courtney is the only one who actually dies in the whole "messing with death for two hours" film, and Ray doesn't take the flatlining trip so has no demons to quash. Seriously though, he's on that poster looking all "CCTV effect from The Ring" and he doesn't even have any of that shit happening to him. Pretty certain that's borderline fraudulent… [ BACK ]
*10 Yep, the real actual moral of the story here is that millennials take too much responsibility. "Killed your kid sister while you were texting at the wheel? Go and have a spa-break!". Fuck's sake, mate… [ 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.
Landing in cinemas like a Sunday Night TV Drama with a Sunday Afternoon DVD cast is Victoria & Abdul, a dramatised account of Shrabani Basu's 2010 non-fiction book of the same name. It examines the platonic friendship between England's reigning 19th century monarch and Abdul Karim, a low-grade clerical administrator from Lalitpur, India, who was chosen to present to her a gift from the Empire's subjects. Dame Judi Dench stars once more as Her Majesty, while Ali Fazal takes the role of the semi-eponymous Abdul. The two-hour runtime covers approximately 15 years, albeit in a fashion which uses a title-card at the beginning, another at the end with some additional 'old-age' makeup, and nothing between.
You may be sensing my mood by this point. I hope so.
The fundamental problem here is that director Stephen Frears doesn't have that much story to actually tell. Queen Victoria befriends someone you wouldn't normally expect in accordance with royal protocols and the accepted social attitudes of the time*1. Her advisors and family aren't too keen on this. She doesn't give a shit, she's the queen. Scenes. So between the film's trailer and a broad historical knowledge, you already know pretty much what's going to happen*2.
While the film looks every bit as sumptuous as one would expect, Lee Hall's script is literal and heavy-handed, with glib witticisms and low-level slapstick frequently shoehorned into the first half attempting to create a dramatic counterpoint with the chin-stroking and institutional racism of the second. Frears takes a frankly outstanding cast and over-directs them as if the whole thing were a pantomime. Dench and Fazal overcome this by virtue of being the ones with the most to do on-screen anyway (and despite everything I'm saying here, they are both on great form), but not a single line from the supporting cast is left under-delivered*3.
In a similar vein to The Man Who Knew Infinity, there is almost certainly a more emotionally affecting story here, buried under layers of historical commentary and costume drama frippery. The memory and legacy of Abdul Karim would be better (and far more sincerely) served by making a documentary about the whole thing.
…those films where the first half of the trailer is scored with an intricate piano solo, breaking after around 70 seconds into sweeping orchestral mode and a title card reading "the untold and/or inspirational true story".
If you're going to watch this at all, it's a Sunday afternoon DVD.
That way at least the pubs will still be open when you finish.
Probably not.
Definitely not.
Absolutely not.
Although there is a Wilhelm-person, he remains silent.
Level 1: Jonathan Harden's in this (as the aforementioned Wilhelm), and he's in the upcoming The Last Jedi. Don't know his character-name yet, mind, but think he's in the Resistance.
*1 And not to be too much of an angry liberal about all this, but while it's nice to believe that Victoria may have been a decent sort underneath all the pomp and bluster of monarchy, it's hardly as if her progressive social views extended as far Her Actual British Empire; the very thing of which she was In Actual, Real Charge, which was presumably too busy pillaging and enslaving the rest of the world to take half an hour on the loo with a copy of The Guardian... [ BACK ]
*2 SPOILER: Queen Victoria is not currently alive and the film's denouement reflects this. Do not expect to see her dancing through the end-credit sequence. [ BACK ]
*3 Including, I'm sorry to say, one Eddie Izzard, portraying the then-heir Edward 'Bertie' Prince of Wales. With magnificent wardrobe and makeup, he looks the part 100%. Then opens his mouth and delivers his admittedly acerbic lines sounding exactly like Eddie Izzard™. The only way around this of course is by not casting Eddie Izzard in anything where he is required to be anything other than Eddie Izzard™. I am not a casting director, I have no say in making this happen. I love the guy to bits, but still... [ 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.
I'll keep this short and sweet. You've probably arrived at this review with two questions. The answer to your first is 'yes, very much'. The answer to your second, 'of course not, how could it be?'.
The eagerly awaited followup to the 2015 hit, Kingsman: The Golden Circle knows what made its predecessor work and knows what made it falter. Screenwriter Jane Goldman returns with writer/director Matthew Vaughn, and they use this knowledge wisely to tiptoe around audience expectations. Set around a year after The Secret Service, the story sees Kingsman™ intelligence agents Galahad (Taron Egerton) and Merlin (Mark Strong) teaming up with their American counterparts Statesman™ led by Champ (Jeff Bridges), to stop a crazed entrepreneur (Julianne Moore) killing vast swathes of civilisation with poisoned recreational drugs. Other characters from the first outing return, but to go into that would be to unfurl plot points, and this is a spoiler-free joint tonight.
Now, the good news is that the cast (reprising or otherwise) are all largely on great form, and the issues which hampered the previous movie don't really apply here (and 'that troublesome line' gets a reference at a similar point in this film which is laugh-out-loud funny, at least). The action is slick, the language is foul, the CGI is better than last time and the shell-casing count is off the chart. The Golden Circle is a very enjoyable flick. And be warned, it's also another one for this year to bow at the altar of John Denver.
But at the same time, there are far more moments in Vaughn's sequel than you expect than ones you don't. It never becomes a flat-out retread, but much like GotG2, it's impossible to top the unique buzz of an unexpected hit when everybody's looking forward to your follow-up, especially when there are the requisite number of callbacks to be made anyway.The story serves as a solid continuation of the events we witnessed last time, but brings nothing in the way of new toys to the sandbox.
But when it comes down to it, Kingsman: The Golden Circle is smart, fun, genuinely touching in places and more than acceptable in the cinematic roller-coaster which is 2017. Just temper your expectations and you won't go too far wrong…
Kingsman, pretty much.
If you're going to watch it at all, watch it big, yes.
I'm not entirely convinced at this point that the film knows what it wants to achieve.
It's a more-than-passable sequel however, so let's go for a yes.
It's not.
I won't.
Didn't hear one.
Level 1: This film's got Sam 'Windu' Jackson in it, albeit very briefly and in a flashback sequence. Still counts, though.
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.
When I was four, I wanted to be Mark Hamill. Well, I wanted to be Luke Skywalker, but the two were indistinguishable at that age, and remained so for some time. Whether it was the loose-fitting desert tunic, the pristine stolen stormtrooper armour or a heavy-drill orange flight-suit, these were outfits I wanted to wear, to be like my hero. Forty years later, I watch Mark Hamill in this movie*1, an appreciator of fine whisky in a brown corduroy jacket… and nothing has changed.
Anyhow, from the mind of Mark Millar comes Kingsman: The Secret Service, the comic-book roots spawning a perfect cinematic mashup of spies and superheroes. After its original run two and a half years ago, revisiting Eggsy's first outing on a big screen doesn't really deliver any new or prescient insights, it's just bloody good fun still. Back in 2015, this felt like it could be the first charge in a new wave of action cinema; not so much re-inventing the wheel, just reminding you how cool the wheel can be when it's done right, although tonally we haven't since had anything comparable other than Deadpool and maybe John Wick.
Absolutely perfect in its pacing and approach, this is the classic Hero's Journey for the 21st century. While Colin Firth, Mark Strong and Sam Jackson are all great value for money, Taron Egerton holds the whole thing together effortlessly, suggesting that he's going to be a (welcome) fixture on our screens for many years to come.
It's perhaps notable that the film which ran tonight was the original cinematic print, rather than one of the edited versions that later hit the home-release market. Fair play to 20th Century Fox*2 for sticking to their guns with that one, I suppose; it passed classification once and there's no point being defensively revisionist about it, right?*3
But all in all, this is amazing. And the church-scene is still one of the greatest action sequences ever committed to film. Kingsman: The Secret Service is a thing of profane beauty…
Oh but for the record, you do realise that even if the gun is loaded with blanks, you'll still be looking after a deafened dog for the rest of its traumatised life, don't you? Well done Caine, now get back in your bloody attick…
As fantastic as the movie is, probably not, due to the strength of the talent involved.
Nope.
I'm not hearing one. Help me out here?
Level 1: This film's got Mace Windu and Luke Skywalker in it of course, but as of December last year, Lt. Frobb from off of Rogue One is there, too.
*1 Although this time Mark is the tutor, and it's Taron Egerton who gets to shoot white-armoured troops while running around polished corridors in an enemy fortress to rescue a princess. Boom.[ BACK ]
*2 It hasn't escaped my attention that in Harry's office, all the front-pages he has on display are from The S*n newspaper, owned by one R*pert M*rdoch, the same tycoon also owns 20th Century Fox, this film's distributor. And sure, this could be a coincidence, until you get to the sequel film in which all news-bulletin reports (even ones taking place in the UK) are branded as F*x News, also owned by… well, you get the picture. And as much as I try not to let my political affiliations colour either this blog or my cinema-viewing in general, I'd be lying if I said that didn't leave a slightly bad taste in the mouth. [ BACK ]
*3 Knowing I'd be writing separately about The Secret Service, I went back over my two previous reviews in 2015 to see what I'd covered at the time. I'd forgotten quite how annoyed I was by the film's gender politics. Not necessarily how shoddily the female characters are treated (cf. most other screenplays, ever), but how that's come about when the rest of the movie is so consistently strong. Let's just say that while I still genuinely love the first Kingsman flick, I stand by every single word I wrote about its flaws.
[ 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.
Edge of Darkness
Edge of Darkness
