Putting it on front-street, I wasn't too enthusiastic at the prospect of a 2016 retooling of The Jungle Book, mostly because I don't see the classic animated version as something which needs to be improved upon. But credit where it's due, Disney pulled it out of the bag in recent years with Maleficent (a wry re-imagining of their earlier work) and Cinderella (a straight-up adaptation). So as much as I'm not the target demographic, I could at least keep an open mind as I sat through 27 minutes of shrieking targeted-ads aimed at under-tens and their parents. After all, Disney are experts at what they do, and this film is helmed by the director of Iron Man, what's not to love..?
Well, this film is helmed by the director of Chef. A film which I didn't detest, but which is also basically a live-action cartoon and took every opportunity to get me on-board but squandered it by shouting 'Hey! Look, this is cool, isn't it? Wow! Yeah!'; a 'man-trick' which seems firmly embedded in Favreau's arsenal, now.
There is plenty to love in The Jungle Book, I just didn't love it.
I never managed to clear the hurdle of photo-realistic animals with recognisably human voices; not least because the stunt-casting of most of the main performers doesn't really match the kind of animal they play, somehow (prime example: As likeable as he is, Bill Murray is not the voice of a bear. John Goodman is the voice of a bear*1). Another major bugbear is Neel Sethi's central performance as Mowgli. I can't fault the kid for trying, but he's one step away from "Yipeee!" and a podracer, frankly*2.
On the musical front, the film is accompanied by a very Williams-esque score by John Debney, swooping and soaring at the right moments without telling you what to be feeling too much. And on the musical-musical front, it appears that the urge to reference the songs from the 1967 classic was too strong to fight. A dialled-down rendition of Bare Necessities carries enough goodwill to earn its place as an aside from the main narrative, but Christopher Walken barking his way through I Wanna Be Like You is unforgivable, the song being stripped of its context is this retelling of the tale and feeling completely out of place. But for those pining for more melodic nostalgia, the closing credits feature the film's voice of Kaa, Scarlett Johansson, performing her own rendition of Trust In Me. Which brought this immediately to mind.
Despite my moaning, I didn't dislike The Jungle Book, I'm just disappointed I didn't connect with it more. The worst part is that as classic as the story is, and as timeless the themes, there wasn't anything in here that I hadn't already seen elsewhere. And not just in the animated version.
But y'know what? the film looks gorgeous and is exquisitely, clinically, assembled. Maybe it's that precision which isn't sitting right with me. Not as much fun as the 1967 animation, nor as reverential as the 1942 live-action adaptation. Disney can, and have, done better rejuvenating their own properties, and this feels like another remake for the sake of it.
But it should keep your little ones entertained (the sizeable audience at my local today enjoyed it thoroughly), and I'll be genuinely amazed if it doesn't win a raft of technical awards, and maybe even get pushed towards Best Animated Feature (since, proportionally, that's exactly what it is).
Oh, and hang around for a special scene after the credits*3:
INT. A study. 1892. Day.
A Man (1) sits at a desk, holding a pen and staring blankly at an equally blank sheaf of paper.
Another Man (2) enters.
Man 2: Alright Rudyard! How's the book going?
Man 1: Well, having a little trouble getting it off the ground, if I'm being honest.
Man 2: What's it about, then?
Man 1: Erm, the book's set in the jungle, and it's sort of about the jungle.
Man 2: Well have you got a title sorted, yet?
Man 1: Nope, drawing a blank. Although I'm sure something witty and/or enigmatic will present itself…
For the visuals, yes.
Although it's also worth noting that I only watched the film in 2D.
For me, not enough.
Your mileage will vary.
No.
Maybe not.
I think I heard one in the bison-stampede sequence, but I'll go with no.
Although that hawk-screech is present and correct.
Level 1: The Jungle Book is directed by Pre Vizsla himself, Jon Favreau, and features the performances by Lupita 'Maz Kanata' Nyong'o, Andy 'Snoke' Serkis and Dee 'All Of The Clones' Baker.
^^ The visuals are a solid 6, but it still left me shrugging my way out of the cinema…
*1 This is what happens when you cast established lead-actors in voice-roles, rather than casting voice actors. Although that still doesn't explain why they didn't cast John Goodman as the bear.
*2 And I say that as someone who loves The Phantom Menace. Jake Lloyd's performance may be wearing, but I can forgive it as it's surrounded with Star Wars. Mowgli doesn't have that to fall back on, I'm afraid.
*3 I made that up. Not just the sketch, but the 'after-credits' thing. I left mid-way through. There could be something there, but it didn't feel like that sort of film, to be honest with you. Plus, I didn't know if they were going to let Scarlett sing another song...
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.
The Walk (3D)
Cert: PG / 123 mins / Dir. Robert Zemeckis / Trailer
Not convinced by the trailer? Don't worry, I wasn't either. I struggled to see how Robert Zemeckis was going to make a compelling movie about a subject which is already documented on pageandon film. But The Walk is much more than a series of escalating events (no pun intended), instead it gets inside the head - and heart - of wire-walker Philippe Petit, and ends up being three movies in one.
The first act follows Philippe through his childhood and adolescence, showing his fascination with performance acrobatics first in rural France, then to Paris, and his idea for the World Trade Centre walk. From the very beginning, Zemeckis is keen to highlight that this is a true story, with a massive title card informing the audience of such. And yet this section of the film is also the least convincing, as the director employs an array of techniques to keep pulling the viewer out of the story and create a strong sense of artiface; be it the fourth-wall-breaking on-screen dialogue from Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Petit as he narrates the major points of his life from the top of an astoundingly false looking Statue of Liberty*1, the black-and-white scenes with bursts of colour injected, Ben Kingsley's voice*2, or even just the heavily stylised filming of the scenes which aren't designed to catch your eye, particularly. At this point, it almost feels like Zemeckis is saying that the truth of the story isn't enough, that it has to be embellished with spectacle and exaggeration. It doesn't bode well, and I still wasn't convinced.
However, once Philippe arrives permanently in New York and begins assembling a team of accomplices to help him achieve his unauthorised and highly-illegal walk between the towers, the film becomes an energetic heist-movie, not unlike American Hustle, complete with JGL donning a number of disguises as he cases the still-incomplete South Tower with a view to infiltrating it with all of his wire-apparatus. It's at this point that the chemistry between Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Charlotte Le Bon really kicks in, and they're fantastic together even if their combined screen-time is relatively short. This is also the act which features the comic relief from the misfits Philippe recruits, partly because of their skills, but also through sheer desperation. Additionally, it's here that the director seems to delight in homaging his own Back To The Future movies*3, as he's already got Alan Silvestri to score the film, and then goes on to show his love of a) ominous thunderstorms in the lead-up to a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, b) fascinatingly detailed architectural maquettes, painstakingly over-built to illustrate only one point, and c) steel cables and ratchets. Lots of ratchets. The heist-act is a lot of fun, by this point I was well onboard.
But it's act-three, the final stretch, the walk itself, which everyone's come for and this is where Zemeckis really shines. The Walk becomes a film not about the technicalities of stringing a wire between two buildings, nor about the adulation and amazement coming from the streets below while that's done, but about the performance art itself. About testing your own limits and doing something unique purely because you can (with a lot of help from your friends, of course). Far from being the hyper-tense tale of hubris that the trailer hints at, it's a film about freedom on a personal and artistic level. Philippe refers to the planning and execution of his walk as le coup, but despite the authorities (eventually) becoming involved, there's nothing either political or egotistical about his actions; it's just something he has to do for himself.
Then, almost as a post-script to the story, Zemeckis' film deftly delivers a metaphorical love-letter to the Twin Towers, but again it's a one which manages to steer well clear of any mawkishness or politics somehow; not mourning their loss, but just celebrating their existence. A carefully crafted final sequence shows the towers as beacons of hope and possibility, of Philippe's dream and everything he did to achieve it. A reminder that people may think you're crazy (in fact, you very well might be), but all the time it's your dream, you're the only one who can chase it properly. And a reminder that the best art is created for the sake of art itself.
The unspoken fate of the buildings aside, any film which can make a wooly-yet-cynical liberal like me misty-eyed over two monuments to naked, unabashed capitalism - in today's climate - is doing something very right, indeed.
Go and see The Walk...
It is, and in 3D as well. There a fewer 'fairground thrill-simulator shots' in there than you'd think (although there are several, obviously), but much like The Martian, this is one of the rare examples of a live-action movie which looks great in 3D.
Seriously, much of the effect will be lost on the small screen (unless your telly's massive), but this will be one to buy. Once the price drops, naturally.
Accent quibbles aside, JGL's on great form here.
More than.
Probably not…
There isn't.
Which is ridiculous, because there is the perfect spot for it, too.
The film stars James Badge Dale and Ben Kingsley, both of whom appeared in Iron Man 3, along with Jon 'Pre Vizsla' Favreau.
*1 And like I said, this first act is specifically designed to not be a documentary, but how come in some of the shots of Petit narrating, the wind machine's turned on to simulate standing exposed to the elements 150 feet in the air, but in other's it's not and everything's just deathly still? I know I'm not meant to believe it Zemeckis, but you could at least pretend you're trying to convince me…
*2 Oh, and fair play to Kingsley here as Petit's mentor and trainer, Rudy. Levitt's introductory narration tells us that "Papa Rudy never said exactly where he was from…", which gives Ben carte blanche to employ a wildly-roaming non-specific European drawl for the rest of the film, which seems to change with each scene he's in. Half of me suspects that this is a deliberate tie-in with his advice to Philippe when he tells him "Never be insincere on stage, it must come from here. The audience will know if you're lying". Because for all his shop-demonstration-mode vocal acrobatics, he plays his role perfectly (more importantly, his accent doesn't matter, although JGL's might)…
*3 There's also a sort of homage to 1985's Ghostbusters too, in the form of people standing on the streets of New York, looking at the top of a building they can't really see properly and ooh-ing and aah-ing. Although this is less of an intentional reference than an unavoidable one, I suspect.
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? I knew there was a time when Liam Neeson didn't wear black leather jackets and punch people in the mush. Turns out it was 1993. Steven Spielberg's telling of the German industrialist (read: jaw-dropping capitalist) who saved 1200 Jewish lives from the Nazi regime is an oddly stylish affair. Not just the black-and-white film, but also the high contrast lighting-states suggest a 1940s noir-thriller, although the film is nowhere near as sassy or flippant in its tone (additionally, the hand-held camerawork seems ill-at-ease with the final presentation).
But importantly yes, of course it's a great film. In terms of storytelling and character development, it's an unmitigated success. Subtlety is further back down the line, of course, but there's little of that to be found in the subject matter anyway, and Spielberg's trademark sentimentality occasionally breaks out into full-blown mawkishness (again, that's more than forgivable*1). The thing which sets the film apart from other period-pieces is the factual roots of the screenplay; because if you look past the melodramatic hand-wringing of the lead character, this really is a quite fucking remarkable account of a quite fucking remarkable story.
Neeson is (despite my misgivings above) painstakingly conflicted in his role as Schindler; Ben Kingsley is understated as his Jewish accountant Itzhak Stern, and Ralph Fiennes ends up with a jaw like Popeye's arm from all the scenery he chews as Nazi nut-job Amon Goeth.
At three-and-a-quarter hours, the film is left to unwind at the pace it needs, but that doesn't mean the audience is left to ponder over the framing. We even get a couple of scenes where Schindler literally summarises the plot for viewers who are having a hard time keeping up (Goeth's overnight-transformation into slightly-less-of-a-bastard is also a little patronising). And while I'm on, some of the child-actors employed here are dreadful, which seems insulting under the circumstances.
But the scene with corpses being conveyed into a mass pyre while a requiem thunders in the background reminded me more than a little of Anakin Skywalker on the shores of Mustafar, and Liam Neeson bargaining to save the life of a woman in enforced servitude through gambling brought back the scene in the Mos Espa podrace hangar where Qui-Gon tries to liberate Anakin and his mother Shmi. The legacy that the film alone has had on subsequent storytelling is huge; the story's legacy for humanity itself is unimaginable. I really should have watched this years ago. Shame on me.
As great as film as Schindler's List is, I have to say that I found The Pianist to be far more emotionally affecting, probably because of its smaller scale (although ironically, the sentimentalist Spielberg directs the appalling scenes of violence far more eloquently than the realist Polanski). That said, the accents in both movies feel like an unnecessary contrivance, so maybe we'll call it a draw?
Yeah, really. Well, it's not exactly light viewing, is it? Besides, in 1993 I was too busy giving my money to Spielberg for Jurassic Park.
Absolutely.
Absolutely.
There isn't. Perhaps understandably.
It's also just occurred to me that the yellow stars next to each question seem in rather poor taste for this film. They're there for all my other reviews as well, before you start, okay?
The headlining actor is none other that Qui-Gon Jinn himself, Liam Neeson.
*1 And while it is entirely forgivable, it makes War Horse seem all the more unbearably cloying.
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.
Okay, there's two ways we can do this. Either you can go on and read the 511 words after this paragraph, or you can stop after the final word of this one: shite.
Still here? Oh, fair play. The thing that strikes you about Ridley Scott's Exodus (and fairly early on) is how bollocks it is. That's not to say it's complete bollocks, of course, since that would be implying that the film succeeds at something. No, it's just bollocks in that 'all-over-the-place like Joel Edgerton's accent' sort of a way. It's clear what the story's meant to be, and in all fairness you have to be pretty much on-board with that before the BBFC card appears, because the film's going to do little to change your mind. I wasn't on-board. By the time the credits rolled, I'd have happily thrown myself overboard just to end the white-noise of Uncle Owen chasing Batman and The Mandarin around the desert for two hours while the audience look on, thoroughly bemused.
Here's an actual, genuine excerpt of the screenplay:
* * * * * Exterior: Day. Moses and the 400,000 Israelites trudge across the desert. A MESSENGER gallops to the head of the line.
MESSENGER: Ramses rides after us, Moses, with four thousand men and a thousand horses!
MOSES: How far behind..?
MESSENGER: Four days; less, if they don't rest the horses!
CUT TO ~
Exterior: Night. RAMSES and his horde ride over the desert.
GENERAL: Sire, we must rest the horses! RAMSES: NO!!!
* * * * *
…even the frequently-ghosting addition of a third dimension can't add an extra layer of depth to this screenplay, and in socio-political terms, it's the Phantom Menace of Biblical epics*1, with pseudo-political gossip, tittle-tattle and backstabbing interspersing the scenes of outlandish action like a kind of Old Testament soap-opera. On a logistical level, the key story-points of the film make Darren Aronofsky's Noah look like a wildlife documentary, although I'll admit that it's to the film's credit that it doesn't try to rationalise them. In fact, the 'parting of the sea' finale was looking quite understated until Scott turned it into an eye-popping 3D Guinness advert (ironically, for a film which might have worked better if I'd had a drink in my hand).
If there's one thing Prometheus taught us, it's that Ridley Scott directs symbolism and suggestion as if they're fact. By the time Grumpy Moses sees God as a petulant 8yr old, and begins to bicker with Him as such, your backside will be getting as numb as your brain. Two and a half hours is long for a fantasy film, and it's long for a mythical/political statement. When the film can't work out which it wants to be, it's even longer. Choose one, Ridley, choose one.
A grand vision which seems to have been lost half-way back down the mountain, Exodus: Gods And Kings is an unholy mess of a sermon...
Oh, more or less.
Not at all.
I have no idea.
*shrugs*.
Not really, but you'll have one hell of a job convincing me why it's great.
Nope.
There is, indeed. This is no consolation.
Why do they keep calling Moses 'Mosher'?
His hair isn't that long…*2
*1 And I say that as someone who loves The Phantom Menace, as well you know.
*2 No, that's a joke. Let me get some kind of enjoyment out of the film.
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.
Shawn Levy 's trilogy-closer certainly seems to have had the requisite number of stops pulled out when it comes to the visual effects, and it's never less than watchable. Frequently amusing, with a couple of guffaws (Dan Stevens is particularly good as Sir Lancelot), the combination of action and slapstick ticks the boxes on the list of what you'd want from a family adventure movie. It's just a shame that Night At The Museum: Secret Of The Tomb feels like it's got nothing to say...
Not that I expect the third entry in a Ben Stiller-fuelled PG-adventure franchise to reveal new depths to the human soul or finally perfect the scientific formula for guaranteed comedy, but at times there's almost an air of contractual obligation as the returning characters rehash their previous performances, and the few new ones offer nothing that you weren't imagining anyway.
I know that I'm expecting too much, but I have quite fond memories of the first two films, and I'd just hoped for something a little more satisfying from a screenplay which has all the hallmarks of a final chapter with a wind-down to beginning rival Peter Jackson's Return Of The King at one point. For all the misty-eyed farewells the film has to offer, it's Robin Williams' scenes which hold the most weight here, from a purely retrospective view of course. NatM isn't Williams' greatest work of course, but then it doesn't have to be; it's just a nice cinematic hug goodbye.
While it brings little new to the table, Night At The Museum: Secret Of The Tomb is amiable enough entertainment for the holiday season, but it struggles to compete with its own previous iterations, never mind the current fare at the box office...
Close enough.
Sort of snorted and giggled, but that's not really enough, is it?
If that is "extend/complete the franchise" then not really, if I'm being honest.
That all depends on how much you want to see this movie, really.
Probably not.
…probably not.
There isn't.
Why are the museum-characters that are introduced in this film so inconsistently self-aware? Not realising they're waxworks one minute, complaining about families gawping at them during the day the next. Were the previous films as bad as this? (I don't remember, and I'm not going to go back and watch them right now to find out)
Oh, and another thing (SPOILERS): When the magic-tablet is revealed by Ahkmenrah's father to be a device he had made so that his family could stay together in this world after death, surely that'd mean they'd each be hanging around in various advancing states of decay before eventually being sentient dust? Can we have even just a little logical consistency in a fantasy environment, please?
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.
