The Call Of The Wild Cert: PG / 100 mins / Dir. Chris Sanders / Trailer
Regular readers will know I don't like to paint my colours too boldly upon this platform, yet I do have colours. And when the latest version of Jack London's The Call Of The Wild opened bearing the new "20th Century Studios" ident, I must confess to sporting a wry, satisfied grin in that darkened auditorium. Let's make things better. Curiously enough, the 1935 screen adaptation also opened during a time of flux at Fox, so there's at least some odd level of synchronicity outside of the studio-drama, too.
And so in short order we're transported to America's northern states in the 1890s and introduced to our hero, a St.Bernard/Collie cross by the name of Buck (performed through the motion-capture of Terry Notary). Playful, intelligent and more than a little clumsy, Buck is abducted by a gang selling dogs to pull sleds as part of the infamous gold-rush*1. But fate and opportunity intervene in these tumultuous times, and Buck finds himself a wanderer, forging meaningful but temporary relationships with humans and dogs alike. One recurring face is that of John Thornton (Harrison Ford), a reclusive prospector looking to find more (yet less) than precious metal in the hills. The two form a bond beyond language, of companionship and understanding, against the backdrop of a society scrabbling for excess.
DOG So as noted above, Buck is mo-capped here. Which is to say, he's a CGI dog. Precisely why is unclear, as Buck doesn't speak or get up to any particularly unrealistic antics, but after an initial swoop through the canine region of the Uncanny Valley things even out and we're treated to an intricate - if enthusiastic - performance. Ultimately this is probably more about creative precision and control than putting dog-trainers out of business. The story has been previously adapted into five movies, so director Chris Sanders' iteration represents a firm half-way house between its live-action and animated past.
Once the action moves out into the open wilderness, Janusz Kaminski's cinematography has room to shine. The landscapes here are gorgeous, and while the four-legged aspects of the movie raise the question of how much of this scenery is digital, the bottom line is that great aesthetics are still great aesthetics.
JOHN B And despite the cynicism I forgot to check at the foyer, The Call Of The Wild won me over in fairly short order. As accomplished as the animation of the dogs is (there are many in this), it's much like Luke Skywalker in Yoda's cave on Dagobah: the technical artistry is only fully sold to the audience by the emotional reaction of the human characters. Harrison Ford, Omar Sy and Cara Gee are outstanding in this regard, while even the more pantomime-like performances of Bradley Whitford and Dan Stevens carry over the energy of the piece.
Ford's role is particularly interesting since the movie almost acts as a round-robin retrospective of his career. We get the red-line map journeys and seat-of-your-pants thrill rides on the search for treasure calling back to Indiana Jones; the soundtrack is punctuated with Ford's best laconic narration since Rick Deckard; and of course he's playing a loner on the run from his estranged wife after the loss of their son, who then teams up with a giant hairy companion that he treats unequivocally as an equal. Okay there's no Millennium Falcon here, but if the pair of them had to hide out in an Amish community at some point then we'd have a full set.
OF THE DAY
Pick your favourite seat if you can, because the episodic structure makes this seem longer than its 100 minutes. Things never drag, but they do feel like a saga. And although it depicts the nurture/nature transition in the opposite direction, the spirit of Buck is what Alpha should have channelled. Not so much a study of humanity's bond with dogs but with nature itself. The peaks and troughs of emotion on display while still being wholly PG-friendly is a solid achievement.
The Call Of The Wild is far better than it has any real right to be in 2020. The film could easily have resorted to outdated, mawkish button-pushing, and while there are still some pointers in that direction, it's saved by the commitment of all involved. Ultimately, you will believe that Buck is a real character, and that's what's important.
But then I would say that, I'm a dog-person...
Not entirely sure in all honesty, as I usually avoid what I perceive to be 'this type of thing' like the plague. Even though (and in all likelihood because) I'm a dog-person.
It is.
It is.
No, although I think the film will be forgotten more quickly than it deserves.
*1 Bit of a heavy-handed metaphor for the slave-trade, but London's book was only published around forty years after its abolition in the US, so that's fair enough. [ 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.
The Post Cert: 12A / 116 mins / Dir. Steven Spielberg / Trailer
Well, we're still in January so Worthy Chin-Stroke Film Season continues with Steven Spielberg's telling of the Pentagon Papers affair of 1971, in which the US government tried to stop the press (chiefly the New York Times and titular Washington Post) from publishing documents claiming they'd lied to the public over the Vietnam War. A srs-stry requires a srs-cst of course, and Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks have been drafted in to do the heavy lifting. Cue two hours of polyester shirts*1, hand-held camerawork and actors talking over each other to give the impression of fast-paced chaos.
And it's fine.
While I appreciated the overall exposition as someone who wasn't alive at the time of the film's events, the script feels a little over-written in some places (yet wilfully obfuscating in others). And although the visuals of the movie are undeniably on-point for the 1971 setting, and cinematographer Janusz Kaminski captures the documentary-feel of the storytelling, this always felt like a modern-day facsimile of the era, rather than an immersive environment. Although I suspect Linus Sandgren's outstanding work in Battle Of The Sexes has rather spoiled it for everyone else, now (speaking of such matters, dear lord Tom Hanks does a lot of manspreading in this movie).
Another of the director's regular collaborators, John Williams brings a score which is great at the pomp and urgency of the proceedings, but occasionally becomes too sweeping and lyrical for the story it's attached to. Although the same can be said of Spielberg's direction, to be fair.
But the film tells its story with the conviction of a committed cast and crew; I can't fault it for that. There were, however, two main stumbling blocks preventing me from enjoying it more...
Firstly, I couldn't forget that I was watching Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks, not newspaper proprietor Katharine Graham and editor Ben Bradlee. This is isn't necessarily a new problem of mine with Mr Hanks, but Streep usually manages to disappear into her roles, becoming the character completely. And it's not like she's has nothing to work with here, I was just always aware that I was watching an actor, acting. The problem could well be the star-wattage of the cast - Streep or Hanks on their own have more chance of blending into a scene with their supporting players, but together their light just shines more brightly than any film they're part of.
Secondly, I couldn't forget that the while the presented issues concerning press-freedom may well be very prescient in 2018, it's also a far more complex situation now. Freedom of speech is more than a right, it's a responsibility, and the needle sways both ways in 2018. Now admittedly, that's not what The Post sets out to cover, but it was in my mind throughout. And while I also don't particularly like dragging my own politics into what is supposed to be a casual movie-review blog*2, the film's stars took what can only be described The Bare Minimum Amount Of Prodding to wade into current events while promoting the film. All The Politics isn't something you can really brush aside with this movie as that's precisely what it's about.
So, all in all, The Post is basically fine. I found the story itself interesting, but got little more out of the feature than that. A well-assembled documentary would have been just as good from where I was sitting. Your mileage will vary.
Oh, and we get the fourth Insidious movie in 2.35:1 aspect-ratio, but Steven Spielberg's delivers his awards-nudger 'tv-sized' 1.85:1? Have a word, mate…
Well, pretty much everyone else seems to think so.
Unless your thing is historical politics or Spielberg, this is a rent/stream.
It's not.
I wouldn't think so.
Hang on, you've put a Vietnam jungle battle-scene at the beginning of the film and there's still no Wilhelm? Insane.
Level 1: As noted, this film's got the one and only John Williams on score-duty…
*1 The period-detail of sets and wardrobe is reliable enough in all the right places, although at one point Hanks' wife (played by Sarah Paulson) lifts a framed photo from the side cabinet in their lounge, showing the couple reclining on a sofa with John and Jackie Kennedy. "That picture makes me sad", she says, to which I inaudibly replied "Yeah me too, love. It looks like it was put together by the intern using MS Paint. Why can't film production companies employ dececent graphic artists to put together faked historical photos in movies? They're the one thing other than the cast that the camera always lingers on, put some bloody effort in."[ BACK ]
*2 Although y'know, as I've linked to articles at the New Statesman and the Guardian, you can probably guess which side of the fence my own deckchair is on. It's not that I'm not on the side of The Post, I absolutely am. I'm just more worried that The Post isn't always on the side of The Post, and hasn't noticed. [ 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.
Get Out Cert: 15 / 104 mins / Dir. Jordan Peele / Trailer
Oh. March. The third month of the calendar-year, just after the earnest hand-wringing of the Oscars and before the deafening explosions of the Summer blockbuster, is regularly the release-window for substandard weirdness (cf 2016, 2015, 2014), indeed that's what we've come to expect. But even I'll admit that the trailer for the Blumhouse-produced Get Out looked like it could be set to buck that trend by bringing far more to the party than was expected of it...
Setting off for to meet his girlfriend Rose's affluent white parents for the first time, young photographer Chris is already fairly trepidacious as they haven't been told he's black. When they arrive however, the atmosphere is weirder than even he imagined; the parents are nothing but welcoming, yet something is very, very wrong. As the weekend progresses, tensions rise and strange events escalate, but will Chris solve the puzzle, or just be one of the pieces?
A combination of a particularly heavyweight awards season and an off the cuff comment by someone who should really know better has perhaps written a reputational cheque that Jordan Peele didn't realise he'd need to cash. Don't get me wrong, this is certainly a good film but I'd struggle to call it more than that. Third-act silliness prevents Get Out from being quite as incisive as it'd like. In terms of Satire™, the film is more of a sledgehammer than a scalpel, although obviously some nuts are harder to crack.
But great performances from Daniel Kaluuya and Allison Williams as the central couple are key to the film's cinematic efficiency. The supporting cast range from textbook to scenery-chewing, but they're largely fine given the context of the film. Unexpected praise also goes to LilRel Howery as the 'funny best friend on the end of the phone' archetype, who is far better than a film like this would normally allow (although he does more than his share of plot-lifting, too).
Leaving aside the obvious current socio-political relevance, the mechanics of the movie are... well, pretty mechanical. The creeping paranoia is implemented fantastically, being psychological rather than supernatural. Foreshadowing plot-points are meticulously laid out and counted neatly back in again although never with a heavy-hand, a move which should make re-watching the film workable (no mean feat with this narrative structure). Get Out is a big fan of traditional jump-scares too though, which lets down a screenplay that's clearly more self-aware than its contemporaries. None of it's badly done, but this certainly feels like Jordan Peele has managed to paint an interesting picture using the same old worn out brushes we've seen other artists use.
All in all, Get Out is more than reasonable, although I'm already worrying about the movies which will try ride in its slipstream.
But if the weight of real-world politics is perhaps putting you off this psych-horror, don't worry too much; the film features an almost unhealthy amount of Microsoft product placement. Now I'm someone who raises an eyebrow when everyone on-screen uses devices with an Apple logo on them, but seeing the MS/Windows branding this much, all in the same place? Rest assured, you're watching fiction...
For full tension, yes.
If you already have any kind of hearing-damage, no.
It does.
Probably not best, but it'll be one of the best-remembered.
Nope.
Nope.
Level 2: Daniel Kaluuya also appeared in Sicario, alongside Benicio 'as-yet unnamed character from The Last Jedi' Del Toro.
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.
Saving Mr. Banks (second-pass)
Cert: PG / 125 mins / Dir. John Lee Hancock
(You can read my first review of Saving Mr Bankshere)
Watching the film for a second time is a fascinating experience. For one thing, you get to focus more fully on Emma Thompson's magnificent performance as P.L.Travers, being able to apply the full scope of the film's 1906 timeline to Thompson's 1961-era performance, right from the beginning. There are certain nuances which, although by no means hidden when viewed for the first time, carry more weight when you already know of all the baggage she insists on carrying. It also makes the unravelling of her childhood a more staid affair. Although there's initially a sweetness to the scenes between Colin Farrell and Annie Buckley, we know that all of the gags are in the 1961 Los Angeles thread, and as an audience we're as powerless to stop the downfall of Farrell's Travers Goff as the attendees of the Town Fair, looking on in horror as he slurs a speech then topples off the stage.
But for all the familiarity of the plot, the execution is just as powerful upon re-watching, and the final half hour is every bit as uplifting. Although I think you won't lose too much by watching this on DVD, there is a remarkable parallel in being in a cinema audience and watching Travers, Disney and the L.A. Premiere audience as they view the film for the first time. Clips of the actual Mary Poppins film are used sparingly*1, so as not to distract from the reactions it's evoking in the Grauman Chinese Theatre.
After last weekend's Doctor Who and Kennedy events, it occurred to me that 2013 is an odd time to release this, given that next year is the 50th anniversary of Mary Poppins. Then after about a second's thought, it also occurred to me that by the time of that anniversary, both of these (Mary Poppins remastered, no doubt) will be in retail-friendly DVD and BluRay formats. Gotta love Disney.
All I can tell you is that you should see Saving Mr Banks as soon as you can, and that if you aren't moved by it on some level then you're probably not human.
Yes it is.
Yes I did.
Yes it does.
It's cold, dark and wet out there, but this film is worth leaving the house for, yes.
I will, yes.
Probably not until it hits DVD now, but yes.
There isn't.
You've got to feel sorry for Paul Giamatti, haven't you? In 1961 he's a limo-driver for a studio, and two years later he's worked his way up to making his own movies! Then, on his first day's filming, something goes a bit wrong on set and the Secret Service are commandeering his footage. No wonder he gave up, after that.
It's a shit business.
*1 In a sort of 'well, of course we've got the rights, but that's not what you're here for' type of way.
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.
It's not every day that I go and see a film starring two leads I don't particularly care for, the subject of which being another film which I don't particularly care for. Then again, it's not every day that I love it, either. Maybe it's just the right movie at the right time, but I found the whole thing entirely charming, powered by a well-earned tweeness that's entirely in keeping with the surrounding narrative.
Emma Thompson is outstanding as Mary Poppins author P.L. Travers. You never forget that it's Thompson you're watching, if you get my drift, but she inhabits the role so well that you can't help but feel for the emotionally crippled writer in not wanting to let go of the one aspect of her life that brings her any joy and control. Similarly, Tom Hanks supports her ably with his Walt Disney impersonation*1, and manages to bring some warmth to the character who only wants permission to play in the same sandbox. Colin Farrell puts in a restrained turn as Travers' troubled father Robert, but seems to play the character in a way which suggests it was initially written for Johnny Depp, somehow. Other highpoints in the cast are BJ Novak, Jason Schwartzman, Bradley Whitford and Melanie Paxson, starring as the long-suffering Disney staff who gently shepherd Travers through the screenwriting process.
The story takes place in 1906 in Australia*2, and 1961 in Los Angeles, focusing on two key periods in Travers' life. We cut between them throughout the film, and even though the outcome of each thread is fairly clear*3 the events of the past are revealed in a way which builds the emotional resonance in the 'present' of 1961. The revealed sadness of Travers' early life comes not from any twist in the story, but the crushing inevitability of it all. In terms of the depicted drama, I don't know how true to life this telling of the story is, but it's told earnestly enough to work in this context. There's also a great audio sequence played under the end credits which at least lends credence to one scene in the film. On an emotional level it's hugely manipulative, but then again, it's a Disney film about a Disney film, so I expect nothing less; they've got a track record of doing that well, and it's upheld here.
It won't be to everyone's tastes, and it hasn't made me see Mary Poppins in a new light*4, but Saving Mr. Banks achieves its goals perfectly.
Very sweet, very funny, eminently watchable. Enjoy.
You won't lose anything by watching it on DVD, but the cinema's going to be more immersive.
Probably, yes.
I will.
There isn't.
Despite the very touching visual tributes to David Tomlinson, I can't have been the only one thinking that the sketches of Mr Banks on the storyboards (three years before the film was released) wouldn't look that much like the actor who hadn't yet been cast, can I?
*1 Hey, I never met the guy, I imagine he's doing it very well.
*2 They did say (and show) where in Australia the family move to, but I didn't catch it. Sorry Australians, I am terrible, I know. I'm not familiar with your geography, I'm afraid.
*4SPOILER! Travers decides to grant Disney the rights to make the Mary Poppins film, in the end.
*4 Yeah, I'll be honest, I tried to watch it again last weekend in prep for Saving Mr Banks, but only made it an hour and a half through. That film is slow. The main character doesn't appear until 25 minutes in. It's mad.
*5 Despite Thompson's character being constantly referred to as Pam and Pamela, I like to think that her nom de plume was Pave Lee Travers. Yes, I know I'm not normal. Especially as this footnote #5 has no corresponding asterisk in the above review.
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.
Regular readers will know I don't like to paint my colours too boldly upon this platform, yet I do have colours. And when the latest version of Jack London's The Call Of The Wild opened bearing the new "20th Century Studios" ident, I must confess to sporting a wry, satisfied grin in that darkened auditorium. Let's make things better. Curiously enough, the 1935 screen adaptation also opened during a time of flux at Fox, so there's at least some odd level of synchronicity outside of the studio-drama, too.
