And like that March is upon us, which can mean only one thing: The year's first Graveyard Slot™. The home of all the movies which aren't worthy enough to go up against the Awards-nudgers of Jan/Feb, and not loud or jazzy enough to be scheduled alongside the superhero flicks that populate the rest of the year. It's a sad state of affairs, but there we are. The release-window yields some fascinating oddities, of course, as distributors take a gamble on their less-categorisable fare and some unexpected gems come our way.
This isn't one of them, though.
Modern-day Russia*1. When promising Bolshoi ballerina Dominika Egorova (Jennifer Lawrence) is badly injured during a performance*2, the loss of her dancing career threatens to tear her fragile family apart. But Dominika's uncle Dimitrevich in the Russian government (Matthias Schoenaerts) offers an alternative way to make use of her talents, by becoming a ruthless spy and extracting information from American agent Nate Nash (Joel Edgerton). Obviously in this game, truth is a commodity as flexible as currency, and trust is even harder to come by…
While it's certainly a solid enough premise for a story, Red Sparrow is best at being a very ordinary, throwback thriller, boasting a strong primary cast and an impressive supporting-array of British acting talent (Charlotte Rampling, Joely Richardson, Jeremy Irons, Ciarán Hinds), none of whom can carry their intended accents from scene to scene. And while she's basically fine in the central role, you never forget you're watching 'Jennifer Lawrence In A Film'. For a secret agent, she sure stands out. The screenplay delights in being grotesquely provocative, albeit a way as thoroughly hackneyed as the steamy thrillers it thinks it's better than.
More quiet brooding than calculating action, this isn't as tense or dynamic as its trailer might suggest, and while that's not necessarily a bad thing, there just isn't enough intrigue to fill the vacuum which is left behind. Unfortunately, Jennifer Lawrence and Joel Edgerton receive neither the plot nor direction to be able to lose themselves convincingly in their performances. While I'm all for complex characters, the script has our main players be so wilfully convoluted that their actual motivations cease to matter after around 90 minutes. After that I just waiting for it to either kick off, or end.
It occasionally kicks off, and it takes its sweet time to end. While the film certainly has its moments, there's just too much padding between them to make a satisfying movie. At least Charlize Theron didn't need a sit down and a little cry every time she had to get her hands dirty.
A calculating cultural juxtaposition, Jason Matthews' 2013 source-novel has been heralded by those in the know for its detail and authenticity. If Francis Lawrence's film follows suit and realism is this disbelievable, then maybe in the 21st century war of misinformation, the Kremlin has already won…
*1 There's a line dropped into the script early on referencing social media, a nod to the audience to let them know that the film is either set 'now' or in the very recent past. So imagine my subsequent amusement when some International Secrets™ are sold, bought and delivered on five 3.5" floppy disks, the slow, bulky and pitifully small data-storage format that the '90s couldn't get rid of quickly enough. I suppose this is fantastic security for each agency as nobody else would be able to conveniently read what's on them. "I just have to verify the data" says Comrade J-Law, firing up a conspicuously modern laptop which presumably has a USB floppy drive attached that the cinematographer goes out of their way not to show us. Then again, Joel Edgerton is still using a pen-and-paper encryption method here. I expect the eventual arrival of a fax machine is going to blow his mind… [ BACK ]
*2 Her leg snaps. Across the shin. Just like that. I think the skinny male-dancer she's prancing around with accidentally somehow puts five times his own body-weight on it or something. It looks painful enough and then you think - wait, what? Dancer, trained, athletic. Leg, snapped. "Sorry, I can't come into work today Terry, my leg's snapped". Not to get too spoilerific, but she's interrogated at one point later by a bloke hitting her with a cosh and nothing snaps then. I'm definitely banking 'snapped leg' for the next time I want to sneak in a mid-week #FilmDay… [ 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 UK's weather may be all over the place at the moment, but the one thing you can rely on in January is the arrival of All The Important Films, as the notoriously forgetful awards panels are presented with a fresh array of worthy contenders for middle-aged audiences who talk in the cinema. Perched in a respectable position on the ladder of consideration is Tom Hooper's new film, The Danish Girl. The (dramatised) historical biopic follows the landscape artist Einar Wegener (Eddie Redmayne), who was married and in his thirties when he fully realised that he should actually be a she. Einar gradually adopted the female persona of Lili Elbe, and with the support of his wife and portait artist, Gerda (Alicia Vikander), went on to became the world's first patient to undergo gender re-assignment surgery.
Now for obvious reasons the film isn't exactly a barrel of laughs, but it doesn't spend its considerable run-time wringing its hands in melodramatic despair, either. The Danish Girl is more a study of the relationship between Lili and Gerda, as it changes irreversibly with their decisions. Keeping this in mind, the two central performances are the most focused here, and while both are hauntingly powerful, Alicia Vikander is actually more interesting to watch than Eddie Redmayne. That's not to put Eddie down at all, but while Einar/Lili is introverted and conflicted by nature (captured fantastically by Redmayne), the character arc itself is still relatively linear (indeed, it's the very reason the audience are sitting there watching). Gerda, on the other hand, is far more vocal in her coping mechanisms while being equally conflicted, and there's a level of unpredictability which allows Vikander to finally show off her Actual Acting Chops.
Away from the main duo however, Tom Hooper's direction looks a little more slack. Although the costumes and sets reflect 1920s Europe authentically enough (with some carefully selected photography and framing of the exterior shots, of course), much of the supporting cast's acting - as earnest as it is - feels distinctly modern in its tone and mannerisms. I almost get the impression that as long as they learned their lines, they could interpret them how they wanted (Amber Heard's wandering accent being a prime example). The passage of time is also another occasional sticking point, as the central plot unfolds at a very measured pace anyway, then a line of exposition might tell us it's six months later with little else to indicate this than Gerda having a full exhibition's worth of portraits which we haven't seen her create.
Also on my grievance-list for the film is the amount of medical and legal detail which isn't given surrounding the surgery itself. The two part operation is explained in overview (and obviously we don't need detail there), but there's no mention of how Lili is going to become legally female in a society in which most of the medical profession wants her to be institutionalised as gay, schizophrenic or both. And that's without mentioning the a moment late in the film where the question is raised over whether Lili will be able to have children once her treatment is complete. "Oh... I don't know", she replies wistfully, giving the impression that she's asked precisely no questions of her surgeon prior to undergoing a world-first, largely experimental procedure, which would be a bit like getting a builder to knock you up a house without knowing how many bathrooms there'll be.
But as I said, that's not what the film's about; The Danish Girl is really a relationship-study, and a very good one at that. It was never going to be easy to make a film about such a complex subject, but for all my perceived gripes, it isn't simplistic or patronising.
Although I am deducting a point for the ham-fistedness of that final scene, yes ;)
The Theory of Everything (although I think that was a better film), or maybe The Railway Man.
Only if you're desperate to see it soon.
The Danish Girl is more of a Sunday night DVD.
I think it achieves some of it, brilliantly. Other areas need a more focused touch.
In Alicia Vikander's case, this should be at the top of her CV, yes.
Probably not.
There isn't.
Level 1: The Danish Girl stars Pip 'Kaplan' Torrens as well as Miltos 'Un-named (as yet) bar patron' Yerolemou from off of The Force Awakens.
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 had one job, Matthias. You're a shepherd; protect the sheep. And if protecting those sheep involves you manufacturing a sturdy fence that they won't be able to push over the moment the fancy takes them, then you build that bloody fence, Matthias! Twice in this film (twice) Dorset's most lackadaisical ovine protection agent stumbles at the hurdle of fence-erection, and is still somehow trusted to look after the sheep. You had one job…
Thomas Vinterburg's big-screen adaptation of the 1875 Tomas Hardy novel, Far From The Madding Crowd, boasts a very capable cast in the form of Carey Mulligan, Matthias Schoenaerts, Tom Sturridge and the ever-smirking Michael Sheen. What is potentially a thoroughly depressing story of poor decision-making and bad circumstances is lifted from the doldrums by the performances of Mulligan and Schoenaerts, which isn't to belittle the efforts of everyone else, but they're essentially the only sympathetic characters on offer. Some beautifully quiet photography*1 of the Dorset landscape also provides some respite from the strains of rural life, courtesy of cinematographer Charlotte Bruus Christensen.
It's definitely a film for Fans Of This Sort Of Thing, and while I wouldn't consider myself a member of that club, I found plenty to enjoy in the acting, direction and writing (ironically, it's most often the screen-writing, or just the narrative itself, of literary adaptations which rubs me up the wrong way). As someone who isn't familiar with the original work, I thought it worked very well, and the themes of indecision and good intentions married with bad outcomes translate to 2015 with ease. The film feels a little rushed on occasion, but the two-hour runtime is a good fit for the story which is being told, so no real complaints from me.
Carey Mulligan starred in 2013's Inside Llewyn Davis alongside Adam Driver and Oscar Isaac, both of whom will appear in this year's Star Wars: The Force Awakens.
*1 Although again, for several indoor scenes we have close-up shots filmed using hand-held cameras on zoom, with every judder and sway of the operator's hand being exaggerated by the magnification. When you're watching this on a cinema-screen it's nausea-inducing.
*2 I imagine. I'll be honest, I haven't looked up those criteria across the year's other releases, but by all means let me know if any fit the bill.
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.
Not really my usual fare, not least because the film's trailer failed to convince me, but Michelle Williams and Kristin Scott Thomas are always worth a punt, so it was off to the indie-arthouse cinema for a Sunday morning preview (yes, the same cinema that had all the monumentally rude people in it last time). As luck would have it, war films set in the 1940s attract a much better class of punter than those set in the 2000s, apparently.
And so, Suite Française sees the inhabitants of Paris being evacuated to the countryside following German bombing raids in 1940. As a sleepy rural town adjusts to its influx of new neighbours, they have to band together to face a greater challenge: the occupation of France by the Nazi forces, and a platoon of soldiers compulsorily stationed in their homes. Tensions rise further as some members of the community seem to be less reluctant than others to give the Germans a cold-welcome…
The good? Suite Française is a fantastic film about loyalty, regret, trust and pride. The dynamic between the townsfolk and their occupying-guests is clinically honest, showing people at their best and worst on both sides*1. Human nature is timeless, it would appear. I'm not sure if it's not a little British for a film set in France, though. That the cast speak largely with Home Counties accents doesn't impact the flow of the film at all (it's not 'Allo Allo, after all), but there's an edge of bitterness and quiet restraint that more usually appears in portrayals of stately homes in England. But like I said, human nature and all that.
The bad? I wasn't sold on the love-story, if I'm being honest (and neither was Mrs Blackout, and she has a far greater reservoir of wartime romantic literature/cinema references to draw upon than I do). It's not so much that I found the course of events unbelievable between Lucille (Michelle Williams), a reluctant landowner whose philandering husband has been drafted to the front-lines, and Bruno (Matthias Schoenaerts), a visiting Nazi officer who writes symphonies in his spare time and doesn't really like all that Being A Nazi stuff, despite Still Being A Nazi. And it's not that their respective portrayals are at fault, either. I just didn't buy the chemistry between them. Or, more to the point, I found the sociological story far more interesting than the romantic one.
Not quite destined for all-time-greatness, Suite Française is still a compelling watch and worth a Sunday afternoon viewing. But if that viewing is at home in about three months time, you probably won't lose too much in the transition…
Probably not unless you know it's your thing before you go in.
Rental, I reckon.
Not the absolute best, but never less than inherently watchable…
Partly.
Not at all.
There bloody isn't.
Michelle Williams starred in 2010's Shutter Island, as did Max Von Sydow, who's due to appear in Star Wars: The Force Awakens.
*1 It's worth keeping in mind that while Suite Française isn't a true story, it was written during the war by someone on the receiving end of the hardships, so it's very difficult to pass off as mere fiction on a tonal level.
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.
Wow, I should have enjoyed this film more than I did. Really. It's not that I disliked it as such, but there are plenty of things to dislike about it. We spend an inordinate amount of time with Matthias Schoenaerts' Ali, a character so relentlessly unlikeable that I actually didn't want him to be redeemed, and when it did happen, I found it to be unbelievable anyway. I get that he's meant to be emotionally stunted (and in fairness, Matthias acts that aspect well), but the kickboxing*1 is meant to be his unlocking, the window that allows him to release his aggression and be himself. In those fight scenes, however, he seemed as lifeless as in the rest of the film.
Marion Cottilard's Stéphanie on the other hand develops more evenly, learning to cope with a massive physical trauma and re-evaulating the things that are important to her. Notwithstanding the fact that her character is more engaging and likeable, her story-arc is more interesting as the audience have a greater chance of relating to it on some level. She makes far greater strides*2 than Ali, yet seems to get less screen-time (or certainly has less interaction with others, anyway). By the time Ali's story reaches its peak, it all seems tacked on, particularly as we cut straight to a 'and everything was alright the end' scene in which the plot is wrapped up with no further explanation. Unfortunately, it becomes clear that Stéphanie is going to be okay long before that point, and I'd already spent twenty minutes or so idly wondering how they were going to wrap up the meandering non-storyline of her boyfriend.
The annoying thing is, I buy Matthias and Stéphanie as characters, but not their relationship. And that is the central hinge of the film.
Beautifully photographed, full of tension and with the most outstanding special effects work I've seen in recent times, I really wanted to like Rust and Bone more, but ultimately found it a bit directionless. Then again, I'm a heathen.
*1 Well, I say 'kickboxing', only because they say 'kickboxing', but it's just brawling and grappling in a farmyard.
*2 No pun intended. Okay, a little bit.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• 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.
