Review: The Equalizer 3

The Equalizer 3
Cert: 15 / 109 mins / Dir. Antoine Fuqua / Trailer

I can't believe they haven't called this The 3qualizer. Never thought I'd see the day when Lionsgate's Expendfourbles have got more cojones than Sony Columbia but here we are.

Anyway, Antoine Fuqua has teamed up once again with the only actor in his contacts list still picking up the phone for another hour and three quarters of dad-vigilantism*¹. Pathologically unable to keep his neb out of other folks' business, Robert McCall (Denzel Washington) has put his past killing Russian gansters and Turkish gangsters behind him, and has moved for a quiet life in... *checks notes* ...southern Italy. Well, quite. Also stars Dakota Fanning as a CIA operative literally phoning in a performance for half the runtime.

An absolute pantomime of a film with much of the exposition thankfully lost in mumbled dialogue, what Fuqua sees as a 'steady pace' is more like dragging out a tight 85 minute thriller. Things could be worse but this sags frequently, eventually limping to a muted finale probably intended as 'nuanced', but looking like the budget was about to run out. Cinematographer Robert Richardson really earns that "injury detail" warning on the BBFC card, in fact the only thing shown with more glee than the violence is a gang of seven Italian mobsters standing around a spotlit table plotting murder while literally eating spaghetti bolognese. On a similar note, Marcelo Zarvos's score nodding merrily to The Godfather feels every bit as cheap as one would expect.

Like many of the movies this Summer, Equalizer 3 wouldn't have been out of place 15 years ago but feels slightly too grubby in 2023. It's technically competent, but plies its trade without verve or self-awareness. There's evidently still a market for this sort of thing otherwise Sony's badge wouldn't be on the front, but everyone here is going through the motions while they can still get away with it*²

Still, it's not the most egregious Italian bloodbath I've seen this year, and at least this one was actually filmed there.

*¹ I know I call these movies dad-bait, but there was an advert for Lynx Africa before tonight's screening. I rest my case. ^{[ BACK ]}

*² Why does it feel like I'll be typing this again for Expendfourbles? ^{[ 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: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (second-pass)

Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (second-pass / SPOILERS)
Cert: 18 / 161 mins / Dir. Quentin Tarantino / Trailer


Ah, okay. I get it now. All it took was a second viewing of Quentin Tarantino’s ninth movie, and the knowledge that this really is about enjoying the ride because while there is a destination it’s one that’s brought about by external forces and the calendar, rather than any internal plot devices. Fair warning, the review which follows is rambly, unfocused and full of sidelines. But if that’s good enough for Quentin…

After taking in the movie when it opened, writing a slightly disgruntled review and letting that sit for a few days, I began to read other articles on Hollywood. More than I normally would for flicks I hadn’t enjoyed, because I wanted to know what I’d missed that everyone else seemed to love so much. And for the very most part, the pieces I read didn’t fill in any particular gaps for me. They just reiterated the list of reasons I’d been dissatisfied, albeit in glowing terms.

COMMUNITY

Because even among the critics’ community, the most perfunctory points here are open to interpretation. One take notes that while Margot Robbie’s Sharon Tate introduces herself at the cinema box office, she watches The Wrecking Crew incognito to soak up the audience reaction. No mate, she puts on those massive glasses to emulate her character on-screen, looking around at the audience every time ‘Miss Carlson’ gets a laugh from them. She’s trying to be recognised, that’s why she went out of her way to be noticed at the box office - no one in Hollywood knows who the hell Sharon Tate is yet. Her actual claim-to-fame came at the hands of the Manson family - something Tarantino throws in the bin as he gives the actress the Happy Ever After she was denied in our reality. A gift from a film-maker who bleeds celluloid and lives for the micro-detail of every performance he sees in every in every B-movie and supporting feature. I got that the second time. The first, I was just wondering where all this was leading.

Elsewhere, some are saying that the brutal fight finale is "classic Tarantino". It’s not. It’s far closer to something that his buddy Robert Rodriguez would do. While it’s true that Death Proof has some nasty moments, it’s Rodriguez’s flip-side movie Planet Terror that’s the really gory flick - and so is the scrap at the end of Hollywood. Truth be told, it can barely even be called a fight in the interactive sense, more the tonally justified slaughter of three absolute wrong’uns.

DEVELOPMENT

And those are two tiny details to pick up on, but that’s what Once Upon A Time In Hollywood is; a lengthy string of tiny details, the minutiae of mundane lives being lived in an unorthodox business in a town famous for creating non-reality. The phrase ‘love letter’ has been flogged to death in reviews for this movie (yeah, even by me), but it’s as much a series of winks to QT’s own career as anyone else’s*¹.

And yet he eschews the traditional format of cinematic storytelling. The first 25 minutes of a movie are usually used to establish characters and motivations. Here that lasts for two hours. The second act will be the part where those characters run up against an obstacle which will need to be resolved before the story can end. In Hollywood we get a caption-card that reads "6 months later". Tarantino is openly telling us that the events of 8 August 1969 have precisely nothing to do with anything that happened in the previous half year. It’s just that here they involve characters who’d been moving in and out of each other’s circles back in February. And as for the third act resolution? Well here it’s more Clint Booth meeting some barely-remembered faces from the past and everyone else meeting for the first time.

That disregarding of structure bothered the hell out of me the first time I watched this. And to a certain degree it still does and probably always will.

MY NAME IS EARL

While the ‘Once Upon A Time’ in the title implies that a tale is about to unfold which isn’t beholden to historical reality, it also creates the expectation that the audience is about to be told a story - ie something with a firm structure and a roadmap - rather than just trailing along behind characters for a few days. And while there are things to look at along the way, that’s not the same as telling a story. This movie is acted, shot and cut beautifully*². My initial problem was that nothing is happening. A second viewing excuses yet underlines this in equal measure.

Throughout Tarantino’s career, there’s been a secondary level upon which his films can be enjoyed. Not always a subtext in the regular sense, but something which, upon second, third or hundredth viewing, a viewer can dig and try to figure out what Quentin was channeling when he put the scenes together. Wondering what was going on his his mind, in addition to the main plot structure (ie the heist, the con, surviving the night or maybe just trying to assassinate Hitler). The problem facing more casual audiences here (hell, me included) is that Hollywood exists almost entirely on this other level. The main ’what’s driving the story’ element doesn’t exist*³. Stuff just happens because it happens*⁴. And while that’s arguably true for the likes of Pulp Fiction, that movie at least had intersecting and cyclical motifs matched with a tight pacing. Hollywood doesn’t.

As much as I enjoyed this the second time round (and I did), I still stand by every one of my niggles from the first. I’ve long maintained that you should be able to get something new out of seeing a film again, that’s why I do second-pass reviews and beyond. Once Upon A Time In Hollywood is a prime example of how and why that re-evaluation is possible.

Although by the same token, I don’t think you should have to watch any movie twice to enjoy it once. But here we are…

Well, that’s the question isn’t it?
What have you seen that’s like this?



It is, with a certain amount of caution.



It is.



Yeah let’s not go mad, okay?



Even though I’ve now changed my mind re-ordered my opinions on this, still yes.



There is.



Level 1: The voice of Cad Bane is in this.



I don’t normally change scores between viewings, but I’m happy to make an exception here. While this and my previous review are obviously subjective (as every review is), I obviously couldn’t go so far as to say the film is badly made. But there are aspects of it which I did not enjoy, and that is a fact. Appreciation is one thing, but it’s not everything. And that’s more what the number is in this case. Not how ‘good’ I think the movie is, more how it made me feel. Last time it was a frustrating 4, this time it was a 6.

My own change of heart certainly makes me wonder what the long-term response to this movie will be, and how much expectation will be placed upon QT’s tenth (and allegedly final) film…


*¹ In no particular order: the aerial shot of the Pan-Am plane is a throwback to Kill Bill, Funky Fanfare from QT’s Grindhouse days plays at the drive-in next to Clint Booth’s caravan, the airport interior is a nod to Jackie Brown’s opening sequence, the saloon section is an obvious reference to Django Unchained and the ‘Die You Nazi Bastards’ scene likewise tips its hat to Inglourious Basterds. And unless I’m very much mistaken, the crossroads at which Clint Booth is waiting when he sees Pussycat for the first time is the one from Pulp Fiction where Butch runs into Marsellus Wallace. But I’m going to have to wait for the Blu-ray to confirm that one, because I’m not downloading a bootleg just to do a side-by-side, okay? ^{[ BACK ]}

*² The sequence in the shack at the Spahn Movie Ranch is camp perfection in itself. The undeniable tension as the wildcard ’Squeaky’ sits slumped in front of the TV. Clint padding around the old dilapidated house holding unknown dangers, the feint of a false climax, the music from the suspense show becoming the scene’s diegetic soundtrack. Wall-to-wall gorgeous. It’s just a shame that it’s not actually needed because there’s no story for this to fit into. ^{[ BACK ]}

*³ Even though there’s a lot of literal driving around in this movie. And it’s not aimless, ‘take in the scenery’ driving, but it’s not plot specific A-B driving either. It’s mostly the characters on domestic journeys like going to work or running errands. And y’know that’s fine but Quentin, mate, I’m not going to let this one go: nothing happens in this movie until the end. ^{[ BACK ]}

*⁴ Or, to be more cynical about the whole thing, Rick Dalton needs to have a conversation about a flamethrower early on to explain away the fact that he’s got a working flamethrower in the house for the finale. Likewise, Clint Booth needs to be shown as a skilled stuntman to explain the fact that he’s instinctively competent at combat and self-preservation even when he’s off his face on acid, and he needs to be on acid to explain away the utter brutality with which he smashes his assailant’s face off every damned surface in the living room. It’s almost - almost - as if the movie’s climax was written first and the whole thing was ret-conned from there. That said, if QT has fully shot any of the TV episodes we see clips of or produced amended episodes of the ones he’s altered, and if any of those are squirrelled away on the Blu-ray extras for the movie, all will be forgiven… ^{[ 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: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood

Once Upon A Time In Hollywood
Cert: 18 / 161 mins / Dir. Quentin Tarantino / Trailer


I'll cut to the chase, the jury at Blackout Towers is out on this one. It's not that Once Upon A Time In Hollywood failed to meet my expectations - I didn't really have any expectations. While I'm definitely a fan of Quentin Tarantino's work to the point of being forgiving of his worst excesses, I was impressed that the trailer is a kaleidoscope of cool which reveals very little of the actual story. It's only after watching the movie that I realise that's because there is no coherent story.

Quentin sets up his core characters, then just sort of bimbles along aimlessly, going off on lengthy tangents which add to the character-building but do almost nothing for the narrative. You remember when Tarantino was famous for driven pacing and snappy dialogue? Well those days are long gone, mate. This begins languidly where each scene is around 30% longer than it needs to be, and pretty much keeps that up for the entire movie. Meticulous yet thoroughly unfocused, this is the absolutely unfiltered Tarantino of 2019, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing. Self-indulgent as absolute fuck, even by his standards.

WESTERN

There's an entire, lengthy saloon-scene where actor Rick Dalton is filming a western, which might be more quirkily entertaining if Quentin hadn't already made Django Unchained and The Hateful Eight. Has he still not gotten spit-and-sawdust out of his system? But there are too many unanswered questions elsewhere. A sporadic narration comes from Kurt Russell. But he's also in the film as a big-shot director. Is it supposed to be his character who's narrating this? Why? How would his character know of events which went otherwise unwitnessed? Wasn't the whole "once upon a time means it's a fairytale and I can subvert your expectations from real-world events" used up on Inglourious Basterds?

Why have big names like Al Pacino and Bruce Dern been hired for a cameo roles which add nothing to the final movie? Why has Leonardo DiCaprio been edited into The Great Escape for a cutaway scene, but Margot Robbie hasn't been given the same digital treatment in The Wrecking Crew when she's playing the actress Sharon Tate watching Sharon Tate in a film? Because the Sharon Tate in those clips is clearly not Margot Robbie, so why put them in at all? I know that ultimately the film is a tribute to her, but it's glaringly noticeable that she's not watching herself. Why am I even thinking about these things when I'm meant to be enjoying a movie by a director I love?

IN SHOW

Don't get me wrong, there are some great things in this, I just don't think it's a great movie. I definitely had that dissatisfied feeling leaving the auditorium where I'd apparently been waiting for something that Quentin wasn't going to deliver. Because while the climactic fight is inordinately, gleefully, brutally good fun, the actual narrative payoff afterward feels like a weak punchline that doesn't support the grandiose, bar-room, shaggy dog story which went before it. It turns out the journey was more important than the destination, but you weren't able to focus on that because the driver had been rabbiting on for the entire journey.

This is Guy Ritchie giving us Revolver, James Cameron's Avatar, Spielberg with Ready Player One. It's not devoid of merit, but by no means what Quentin is best at - and this has happened because there's now nobody to tell him 'no'. The bottom line is that if any other writer/director had made Once Upon A Time In Hollywood, I'd be calling it out as a rambling, first-draft mood-board. In fact I still am. Because since each movie ultimately has to stand on its own merits, where does that leave this? But now I know what to expect, another viewing is called for, that's for sure.

All I'm saying is that it's coming to something when Drew Goddard is making better Quentin Tarantino films than Quentin Tarantino…

Honestly? I have no idea.



Probably, yes.

Although I could feel the casual-audience around me growing increasingly restless and fidgety throughout.



I know I'll be adding this to The Collection either way, although I may well wait until the price has dropped to something more reasonable.



At this point, I genuinely don't believe it is.



Oh yes.



There is, it's in the first scene and it's absolutely textbook.



Level 1: The voice of Clone Wars Count Dooku is in this.



^^ This may be subject to change after the next viewing.




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: American Pastoral

American Pastoral
Cert: 15 / 108 mins / Dir. Ewan McGregor / Trailer



Occasionally, you'll watch a two-minute trailer and think 'oh, that looks interesting, I wonder what it's actually about?'. Occasionally you'll watch the two-hour film that the trailer was promoting and end up asking yourself the same question.

Ewan McGregor directs and stars in this adaptation of the Philip Roth novel of the same name, about a Jewish/Catholic family in Newark, New Jersey, during the 1950s and 60s. The standard tumultuousness os family life is punctuated (indeed punctured) by social and political events of the era, coming to a head when the teenage daughter of the family (Dakota Fanning) becomes involved in a political movement and disappears, much to the disquiet of her parents (Ewan McGregor and Jennifer Connelly).

Spanning a couple of decades (more if you include the modern-setting framing device and narration) key points in modern American history are used to denote the passage of time (as well as McGregor's haircut), which could possibly be a stumbling block for viewers outside the US. By which I mean me. By which I mean, I'm aware of all that stuff happening, but not all of the exact years or even the exact order, so my brain was constantly sidetracked in trying to pinpoint the page on the calendar when I should just have been looking at Ewan's hair. Like some sort of dramatic merry-go-round, Jennifer Connelly, Dakota Fanning and Ewan McGregor each get their chance to gleefully overact before the screenplay has allowed them time to lay the sufficient groundwork.

Like its predecessor*¹, the film dissects The American Dream™ with curious but unceremonious precision. Also like its forebear, I think for that to work well, the viewer has to be on the start-line from the beginning. Again, I like to think I'm reasonably familiar with Americana, but I just couldn't jump the cultural gap to get the most out of this (and in that respect, fair play to McGregor for helming the project in the first place). Ultimately, I'm not sure what it's meant to be. Earnest family drama, or quasi-political mystery? Because while each side is intriguing here, they certainly don't sit together well.

American Pastoral is, to be brutally fair, an interesting mess. As if two jigsaws featuring the same scene but with differently cut pieces have been dropped onto the floor together and we get to watch McGregor on his hands and knees, scrabbling against the clock to assemble a whole picture.

An unwieldy analogy which the film has earned.

It reminded me a little bit of Capote.
Which I also couldn't get on with.



It'll be just as uninspiring on DVD, I reckon.



Without reading the novel (and let's face it, I don't have that amount of free time), I couldn't really say.



Well, In the period-setting, McGregor's American accent is every bit as shaky as the cast's 'aged' prosthetics in the modern-set bookends..



Probably not.



Definitely not.



Level 1: This film's got Obi-Wan Kenobi in it.





*¹ Of the ones I've reviewed online, here's my ranking of the entries in this series, from best to worst:
• American Ultra
• American Pie Reunion
• American Hustle
• American Pastoral
• American Honey
• American Sniper
The best part is, I suppose, that you can watch them in any order. The timeline is all over the place and there's almost no narrative continuity.


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: Effie Gray

Effie Gray
Cert: 12A / 108 mins / Dir. Richard Laxton




It's happened again. The sales attendant looked me square in the eye and asked "…are you sure?". "Oh, of course," I replied, "I've brought my ladyfriend - at her request, no less - to see the British-made Victorian costume drama Effie Gray. I like 'films' as well as movies, why would this be a problem?". The young man looked at me, one eyebrow slowly raising in gentle accusation. "You do remember Jane Eyre, don't you, sir? We all do…". "Yeah, yeah, Jane Eyre was an anomaly, though. No-one could be expected to like that, even fans of Jane Eyre. And remember Great Expectations? I enjoyed that, didn't I?". I had won. "I was only pointing out that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is on in Screen 1, that's all.". "Yeah, well enough of your cheek, sonny, take my money and give me my tickets. Besides which, I've seen TMNT and have no desire to repeat the process."

So anyway, Effie Gray follows the story of its titular heroine's troubled marriage to Victorian art critic John Ruskin, resulting in Effie procuring a marital annulment and creating a massive scandal at the time. Actually, the film doesn't cover the scandal, just the events leading up to it. And it doesn't cover the courtship, whereby an intelligent, attractive young woman somehow becomes infatuated with a sociopath harbouring mummy-issues who is, at best, 'a bit odd'. So really, the film just covers the turbulent bit in the middle. Except it's not really that turbulent. Not so much stormy, more of a persistent drizzle.

I have it on very good authority (Mrs Blackout's, no less), that the relationship between the two central characters was a lot more strained than Emma Thompson's screenplay would have its audience believe. The psychological abuse that Gray suffered at the hands of her tormentor seems to be mostly reduced to a few crossed words and funny looks, plus a scattering of huffy silences once Pre-Raphaelite painter John Millais arrives on the scene to woo Effie with his beard and wide array of facial expressions. Like many costume dramas set in the Victorian era, the film restrains itself from placing 21st century attitudes onto its characters. Sadly, this seems to rob them of their bond with a 21st century audience. I didn't dislike the film, but I wanted to engage with it more.

Mrs Blackout was less impressed than I.

A strangely muted affair, played with conviction but unwilling or unable to portray the drive and passion of its characters, or of the Pre-Raphaelite era they were ushering in. Viewers familiar with the art history of the period will raise an eyebrow at how delicately the themes are handled; viewers without that grounding will wonder when the story's really going to kick in.

A midnight storm painted in pastel watercolours, Effie Gray holds the attention, but it's no masterpiece.

Yes and no. The trailer left me none the wiser, but to be fair the film largely did that as well.



Afraid not.



I have it on good authority that it doesn't.



You'll be lucky to catch this at the flicks, but it's perfect Sunday night viewing on DVD.



Not at all.



Not very likely, if I'm being honest.



.

Is it a coincidence that Emma Thompson has written herself the part of the only person in the film who isn't at least a partial fuck-up?

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.