Review: The Creator

The Creator
Cert: 12A / 133 mins / Dir. Gareth Edwards / Trailer

As much as Gareth Edwards' new film is trumpeted as being from the director*¹ of Rogue One and tackling the bête du jour of AI, The Creator is at its heart a callback to the 1970s era of thought-provoking science fiction, which didn't get bogged down in being the start of A Universe™*².

Excellent lead performances from John David Washington, Madeleine Yuna Voyles and Gemma Chan blend seamlessly with strong supporting roles from Allison Janney and Ralph Ineson, as the film leans back from 'the robots are going to kill us' and asks instead what qualifies as Artificial when the Intelligence becomes truly self-aware. Much like Alex Garland's superb Ex Machina, the real enemy here isn't the behaviour of the machines but that of the humans they're reacting against. Director and co-writer Gilroy evokes sympathy without being mawkish, and showcases a beautifully gritty world and jaw-dropping effects work without getting lost in the detail. While the film has a serious point to make yet never lectures its audience, this open-ended approach to morality may seem non-committal to some, and there's certainly the feeling that The Creator is merely extremely impressive, rather than surprisingly profound.

But above all else, it's just great to see a fiction-movie in this day and age which is familiar without seeming derivative and interesting for its entire run-time. Bravo.

*¹ It's a topic for a different post admittedly, but Tony 'Andor' Gilroy deserves at least an equal amount of credit for the direction (and indeed the direction) of Rogue One. It's not that Gareth Edwards didn't put in a hell of a lot of vital work, but ultimately Gilroy is responsible for the movie we saw. But much like the Solo debacle, we'll likely never hear the full, true story behind all that. ^{[ BACK ]}

*² And let's be entirely fair, Star Wars caused that. ^{[ 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.

Review: A Haunting In Venice

A Haunting In Venice
Cert: 12A / 103 mins / Dir. Kenneth Branagh / Trailer

There are few images which evoke a perfect combination of civilisation and tranquility like the waterways of Venice, so it's not altogether inapt that we drop in on that city in a post-war setting as the celebrated detective Hercule Poirot is trying his best to adapt to a life of gentle retirement.

As for the haunting? Well, he's trying, that is, against the wishes of a subconscious still struggling to deal with psychoses from the world war before the recent one, followed by a civvy-street occupation that's involved being perpetually surrounded by All Of The Killing. It's no surprise that our hero's sense of reason is on the verge of collapsing. When Poirot attends a Halloween party in a palazzo reputed to be home to dozens of vengeful spirits, it makes for an uneasy evening. And when a visiting medium is murdered following an after-hours seance, well - that makes for a typical one...

STRING

And so to the third in this (frankly) troubled string of Kenneth Branagh's interpretations of Agatha Christie's Belgian sleuth. I won't waste space here listing their particular failings, only to say that I approached this film with slightly more dread than was probably intended by 20th Century Studios. I don't necessarily consider myself as a Christie Purist™, but I also don't enjoy watching demonstrably inferior versions of the stories I love.

So I was more surprised than anyone when I found myself rather enjoying A Haunting In Venice. The story is a (very) loose retooling of 1969's Hallowe'en Party, but uses this more as a broad inspiration rather than source-text. And because of that distance between the novel and the screenplay, this has far more of an identity than the previous entries. There are far fewer 'small' inconsistencies to get caught up in when you're watching events unfold essentially for the first time.

EVERYTHING

Hildur Guðnadóttir's score, Haris Zambarloukos' cinematography and overall production design are firmly on the film's side, all managing to make an isolated, decaying multi-storey mansion still feel atmospherically sumptuous. And speaking of atmos, the sound editing appears to have been taking lessons from the school of Blumhouse for its deathly silences and subsequent jump-scares. That said, in terms of actual chills this is still more effective than most of the straight-up horror flicks of recent times.

Performances of the comparatively (and thankfully) pared-down ensemble cast are solid all round, even if they feel a little televisual in their melodramatic angst. Although with the very best will in the world Branagh's central turn is the weakest aspect of the whole thing (it's like he's hoping the audience will just accept him as Poirot through repeated exposure, rather than any persuasive craft on his part). We're three movies in and the man still sounds like he's auditioning for 'Allo 'Allo.

And if that's not enough to raise a smirk, there are enough high ceilings and falling chandeliers here to suggest that the palazzo isn't actually haunted, it's just got the Trotter family running about in the attic...

ONCE

Ken's Poirot movies have always worked best for audiences who are able to 'un-remember' previous versions of the story that's being told. A Haunting In Venice is no exception, and wisely assists the viewer by largely being its own - very respectable - thing. If this series is to continue (and it will, whether we like it or not), the way forward will be writing wholly original stories using familiar characters. Absolutely no shame in that, and far more scope for creativity.

Apart from anything else, you really have to admire the chutzpah of budgeting for a Venice location shoot and basing your PR around that, then having 95% of the movie take place indoors, at night, while it's raining too hard to see the scenery in the occasional cutaway exteriors.

Ken got his holiday, I see...

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: Dumb Money

Dumb Money
Cert: 15 / 104 mins / Dir. Craig Gillespie / Trailer

Well, it's nice to see that the department at Sony in charge of greenlighting True-Story™, fast-cut, mumbled-dialogue, quirky, yellow-poster, current affairs, underdog dramatisations is largely weathering the storm currently affecting the rest of the movie industry.

This is one of those pieces that's usually dropped in January as quasi awards-bait (but that aforementioned storm means it's hitting screens now to make up for nothing else being ready), usually based on a New York Times article or a factual book (or a New York Times article which led to a factual book), in which mainstream entertainment actors get to play in the frowny grown-ups sandpit, and convince us all that they're worth the sensible plaudits by doing so. Dumb Money centres around the Gamestop stock-debacle of 2021, and is populated by players who are either perpetually furious, gormless or both at the same time. And because these characters are based to varying levels on Real People™, director Craig Gillespie gets carte blanche in portraying them as either too dull for dramatisation or too pantomime for documentary. So this is very much like real life in that we can't have nice things. Is it dumb? No. But is it an interesting cinematic distillation of a superficially complex subject, boiled down to its base elements to shine insight onto the fallibility of human behaviour which caused the furore and the plucky spirit of those who rode out the storm and stuck it to The Man? Also no.

Dumb Money is for people who didn't manage to take in what was on the news 18 months earlier, and use their escapist downtime to watch movies about it all instead*¹. If that's you, enjoy.

*¹ Seriously, there were 2 (two) separate ads for vitamin supplements before the trailers, so at least the distributors know that the only people watching this movie are firmly middle-aged... ^{[ 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.

Review: My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3

My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3
Cert: 12A / 92 mins / Dir. Nia Vardalos / Trailer

There's a moment in Kevin Smith's second 'Evening With' video which addresses the fiscal reality of working in the entertainment industry. When asked if he - as a successful movie director, writer and actor - magically has cash lying around, Kevin replies "Sir, I have a family. I'm married and I have a kid. Honestly, I kind of live very hand-to-mouth where it's like I get paid, and then I go back to work, and I get paid and basically we just spend that money until there's no money left. And then I'm like '...well, what did Jay and Silent Bob do this week?'" Cue the mock-knowing laughter of a sycophantic audience acknowledging the artist's easy go-to of reliving former glories.

In unrelated news, successful movie director, writer and actor Nia Vardalos has a new My Big Fat Greek Wedding film out this week.

HOLIDAY

Reuniting the (surviving*¹) cast from previous excursions, Toula (Nia Vardalos) and Ian (John Corbett) finally book themselves a first-time holiday to Greece with assorted family members to visit her late father's childhood village and hold a party in his memory. Brother Nick (Louis Mandylor) accompanies them with a secret plan for the homecoming-dispersal of the ashes, with Aunts Voula (Andrea Martin) and Frieda (Maria Vacratsis) thrown in for tag-along comedy value.

They're joined by Toula and Ian's daughter Paris (Elena Kampouris) who's on the verge of failing college, and her sort-of-ex/half boyfriend Aristotle (Elias Kacavas) to add some teenage angst. Once back in the home-country, new characters arrive in the form of fearsome Alexandra (Anthi Andreopoulou), mysterious stranger Peter (Alexis Georgoulis), sparky town mayor Victory (Melina Kotselou), and Syrian refugee Qamar (Stephanie Nur) struggling to find acceptance in the traditional village. Old favourites Nikki (Gia Carides) and Angelo (Joe Fatone) arrive later in a further bid to reunite all of their father's childhood friends, and in the end the party is arranged for the same date as an impromptu wedding which is quickly pencilled in during the second act. It's all going on.

MUTINY

This is, with the very best will in the world, a complete shambles. Far too televisual in its scope*², far too many plot threads, few of which are properly developed (again), too many cast members, too many recurring-catchphrases in lieu of jokes, and a marked impatience in reaching its own natural conclusion.

Vardalos manages to under-write her own screenplay and then over-direct it, but the worst offender by far is the number of glaring 'laugh-gaps' - the leaden silences left in the script and sound-mix after a throwaway punchline is ham-fistedly delivered. The idea of these is that a theatre full of patrons will be so busy hooting with hilarity, some breathing-room should be left so that they don't miss the next crucial line in the script. This probably works well in a test-screening full of cast and crew, although in a provincial cinema with five other patrons (and worse still, in your own living room) the movie will play like it's been edited by someone suffering a blunt-force head trauma.

MARATHON

That said, the film's heart is in the right place on an emotional level. There are chuckles and smiles to be had, there are few sharp edges and there's a concerted effort to sneak in various social issues without lecturing the audience (even if those issues are treated so non-confrontationally that they amount to box-ticking). The scenery is gorgeous, the cast are bringing their best energy and other than the struggling mechanics of making a coherent movie there's little to find objectionable*³.

But ultimately, as the credits roll you're left with the feeling that Nia Vardalos has sat looking at a bank statement and wondered '...well, what did Toula and Ian do this week?'. And then she watched a couple of Mamma Mia flicks and realised the answer might involve HBO paying for a jolly over to Europe...

*¹ Look I know this feels like a low blow, but with the first movie landing in 2002, a follow-up fourteen years later and then waiting another seven for the threequel, Greek Wedding is a series so infrequent that its supporting cast are literally dying of old-age between instalments. And while that's certainly not shied-away from in this movie, Vardalos still didn't have the cojones to call it My Big Fat Greek Funeral. Maybe next time... ^{[ BACK ]}

*² The weirdest offset might be the combination of the film's full 2.35:1 aspect ratio, with opening titles that look like a mid-budget 1990s TV sitcom. Who signed this off? ^{[ BACK ]}

*³ I know it seems like I'm being overly harsh to a perfectly harmless little comfort-food movie which was never intended for me in the first place, but for what it's worth Mrs Blackout enjoyed this even less than I did, and I only went to see it because she wanted to... ^{[ 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.

Review: Jurassic Park (30th Anniversary)

Jurassic Park
Cert: 12A / 126 mins / Dir. Steven Spielberg / Trailer

There's something about the nonchalantly galling nostalgia of anniversary screenings for movies you saw in the first time around and technically weren't even a child then that nobody warns you about. The last time I watched Jurassic Park in a cinema (which I swear blind wasn't that long ago) it was old enough to buy a pint, yet now the fossilised mosquitos and interactive CD-ROMs weren't the only thing in that room feeling ancient...

And truth be told, there's not much to say all these years down the line about a movie that's still perfect. John Williams' score is still majestic, Bob Peck's focused intensity is still magnetic, the jokes still get audible laughs and Gary Rydstrom's sound-design for the Tyrannosaur is still one of the most hair-raising things I've ever heard. The digital and practical effects work is astounding of course, but above all else it's the human reactions to the dinosaurs that really sell this. And not just Ariana Richards' and Joseph Mazzello's terrified scrambling as Lex and Tim, but the sense of awe and jaw-dropped wonder from Laura Dern, Sam Neill*¹ and Jeff Goldblum. Meeting the Brachiosaur herds was magical in 1993 and it's magical now. I genuinely still wipe away a tear in that moment. Like I said, perfect.

It's also still horribly relevant. This romp of dinosaurs gone rogue (or more properly, dinosaurs behaving completely naturally) is in its essence a timeless cautionary tale, glossed over with unapologetically self-aware marketing. It's no accident that a parable about the dangers of unfettered capitalism has its own logo'd merchandise literally appearing within the film as part of the problem. The story is blunt in its message (classic Michael Crichton), but hugely accessible in its scope (classic Steven Spielberg). One of the most interesting aspects is how the director actually leaves the audience feeling slightly sorry for park-visionary John Hammond, the gently-spoken entrepreneur whose myopic hubris causes widespread destruction, mutilation and death, while at the same time we're invited laugh at the demise of lawyer Donald Gennaro as he cowers on a suddenly exposed toilet. Remember, he's one of the few professionals who hadn't been bribed or cajoled onto the island to sign-off the project, and was merely working to represent the interests of investors who had well-founded concerns about the park's demonstrably appalling safety procedures. In the first act of Jurassic Park, Gennaro is actually the good guy. This flips of course once he gets dollar-signs in his eyes and is subsequently punished by the narrative as a result. Like I said, blunt.

But perhaps most pleasingly, in the end there's no deus ex machina which gets our protagonists out of trouble. They just have to pick their battles, make it through the night and survive the ordeal*². Jurassic Park is about teamwork and tenacity in the face of adversity. About weathering the storm and about leaving no one behind. Yeah, even if they caused all this shit in the first place. Like I said, horribly relevant.

*¹ And for the record, Dr Alan Grant is never more than three lines of dialogue away from Sam Neill's native Kiki accent kicking back into gear, and I don't even mind. That's how much I love Jurassic Park. ^{[ BACK ]}

*² I do hope the poorly Triceratops was okay in the end. The plot-thread of the illness doesn't get resolved in the film (it's explained more in the novel but sill not 'fixed' iirc), and I'm not cool with the thought of her lying there incapacitated while the T-rex goes rampaging about the island willy-nilly... ^{[ 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.