Review: The Pope's Exorcist

The Pope's Exorcist
Cert: 15 / 103 mins / Dir. Julius Avery / Trailer

Well, the Devil may have all the best tunes, but his screenplays are still appalling. Hollywood's favourite midlife crisis Russell Crowe barges his way through Evan Spiliotopoulos and Michael Petroni's ham-fisted script as Father Gabriel Amorth, The Pope's Exorcist*¹, called away from Rome in 1987 to investigate an apparent demonic possession*². Out in the Italian countryside (by which I mean rural Ireland, where it was filmed), a newly-arrived American family have moved into a deconsecrated church built right on top of a portal to Hell which opens when a builder nudges a brick in the cellar*³. Standard.

Gabe spends the film meting out righteously maverick Mediterranean justice, leaving a trail of dead farm animals in his wake while exposing higher clerical ineptitude. The Godfather Ted, if you will.

ENGLISH

Making the worst of a thuddingly linear storyline, Russell's dialogue is deftly split 80/20 between English and Italian*⁴. While I cannot vouch for the linguistic accuracy (or otherwise) of the latter, Crowe's accent work as 'world-weary Roman cleric' comes out closer to 'Polish Welder'*⁵. There are lines in his script which appear structured like dryly funny, off-hand quips, but our hero delivers them with the timing and nuance of a toddler looming over a box of eggs with a claw hammer.

Arguably more egregious though is Ralph Ineson as the voice of the spirit possessing the unfortunate child, who has decided that an Italian demon channelled through an American boy should sound like it's from Stepney...

MULLARD

To their (genuine) credit, the score, makeup, cinematography and effects are all passable here; the problem is the ideas and writing they're all being used to prop up, and the baffling miscasting used to deliver it all. The Pope's Exorcist is the Sony execs wanting to play in the fetid sandpit of Blumhouse for easy money, and coming back with just as much dogshit under their fingernails as a result.

This is every low-rent exorcism film you've ever seen, except now the film crew have managed to wangle a jolly to Ireland into the bargain. I'd not necessarily expected the movie to be a better effort than its classmates, but it's so happy to steal wholesale from them that it's an insult to an already-struggling genre.

In the end and after the batshit finale, we don't even see the family that all this has happened to. The survivors of an actual otherworldly intervention are written out with a 'yeah they're all recovered now they've gone away, they're probably fine and with no post-traumatic stress disorder lol' because The Pope's Exorcist is too busy going all Da Vinci Code and optimistically setting up a sequel/franchise.

This film should never have seen the light of day, but to unleash another on humanity would be truly demonic...

*¹ If someone as holy and divinely protected as The Pope needs his own exorcist, what hope do the rest of us have? It's a wonder there's anything left outside the walls of The Vatican... ^{[ BACK ]}

*² The Pope's not even really in this, by the way. Just some cardinal bloke that Russel Crowe reports to. But the film's not called "The Cardinal's Exorcist", is it? No, because they wanted a more eye-catching title. And having watched the film, what on earth has The Pope done to get implicated in all this? Actually, don't answer that...^{[ BACK ]}

*³ The story opens in 1987 with a newly-single mother driving to an idyllic retreat to start a new life, with two complaining kids in-tow and a soundtrack of 80s rock bangers. This transparent and unearned fanboy wink to The Lost Boys might be the most insulting thing about a movie which is the diametric opposite of fun... ^{[ BACK ]}

*⁴ The majority of which is even subtitled! By which I mean yes, there are lines and exchanges in this film which are delivered in Italian and which have no subs for an English-speaking audience. And that's not for dramatic concealment or comic effect, someone just that forgot to put them in there. Ottimo lavoro, ragazzi... ^{[ BACK ]}

*⁵ By my own admission I do not know any world-weary Italian clerics. But please be aware that my day-job brings me into regular contact with several Polish welders, so I'm confident on this one. ^{[ 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: The Mummy

The Mummy (2017)
Cert: 15 / 110 mins / Dir. Alex Kurtzman / Trailer



Hey, I don't mind admitting when I'm wrong. Repeated exposure to the trailers for Universal's 2017 reboot of The Mummy had already convinced me that Sofia Boutella would be the best thing in an otherwise desperate franchise-startup. As it turns out, the French-Algerian kickass dancer and actress is almost wasted in the film, with most of the focus being reserved for Tom Cruise's range of expression*¹. But I'm getting ahead of myself…

Anyway, in case you'd been living in a cave, The Mummy is an overhaul of the cinematic-property in general, last gracing our screens under Brendan Fraser's auspices in the 1999+ series. Now set in the present day, our hero is Tom Cruise's Nick Morton, an 'entrepreneur of antiquities' who, with his partner in adventure Chris (Jake Johnson), accidentally wakes up a very angry Egyptian lady (Sofia Boutella's Ahmanet) after stealing a map from a slightly less-angry British archaeologist, Jenny Halsey (Annabelle Wallis)*². Thrown into the mix is Russell Crowe's London-based research scientist, Dr. Henry Jekyll, anxious to get his hands on the newly-risen queen For Research Purposes™. As you can imagine, there's hell-on.

This of course is the first installment in the new 'Dark Universe' franchise, fresh out of the stable with a suitably hubristic ident following the standard Universal Studios intro. And there are, of course, an utterly shameless number of setups and future callbacks established here, with the studio not only throwing their hat into the continuity ring, but also betting the housekeeping on their eventual outcome. Front and centre of all this is Tom Cruise, leading a film as only he can, gleaming and coiffured in pretty much every scene, with a strategic box-to-stand-on when the need arises.

And you know what? I rather enjoyed this film.
There. I said it.

Having braced myself for the worst (the aforementioned trailers, plus the fact that the movie's been out for almost two weeks here and I hadn't summoned the willpower to walk ten minutes from my house to watch it), it becomes apparent after about fifteen minutes or so that it's not at all bad. I mean sure, it's The Tom Cruise Summer Blockbuster By Numbers Adventure Hour™, but it's bloody good at being that. I've certainly seen far, far worse this year, that's for sure. It helps that the film's a 15 certificate rather than the standard 12A. Things never get gory or even particularly savage, but there's an occasional level of intensity that you can't generally carry off at the lower age-rating*³. Conversely, there's no denying that Tom Cruise brings a lightness of touch to The Mummy which the film (and indeed series, if it's to continue) needs at its outset, in this age of desaturated frowny-destruction. Not all of the gags land in the correct place, but Big Tom has a surprising poker-face when it comes to delivering quips which would make many another actor stumble.

You'd expect this flagship offering to borrow tonally a little from the 1999 film-series, and that it does at first, with a decent amount of restraint. Although the screenplay also steals beats from Indiana Jones, which again is expected/fine. Oh, and The Birds. And Hellraiser. And An American Werewolf in London, The Lost Boys, Shaun of the Dead and The Rocky Horror Picture Show. As tribute-acts go, The Mummy has pretty strong game.

As referenced up top there, it's more than a little disappointing that Sofia Boutella has been cast in the antagonist-role as a furious, vengeful sociopath and is then pretty much reduced to padding around in bandages and murmuring threats like a Sexy Mumm-Ra™, while the story revolves around what Tom's currently up to. But I suppose it's The Summer, right? Not Mad Mummy's Murder-Hour™.

Considering quite how generic this opening chapter is in both concept and execution, The Mummy is a pleasing ride. This isn't Universal's big splash, they're just testing the water at the moment. But you just know they've got their moves mapped out, and if the studio can maintain this level of accessible, disposable fun, they might just make their money back. Stranger things have happened…

Well other than all those movies it riffs on, it's very much .



For best effect, probably yes.
The transition to the small screen will not be kind on this movie.



Against all odds, it pretty much does.



No.



Not one jot.



There isn't.
Ridiculous.



Level 2: This film stars Sofia Boutella of course, used to far better effect in Kingsman, alongside Mark 'Skywalker' Hamill and Sam 'Windu' Jackson.





*¹ Oh, Tom does all of his face in this movie! ^{[ BACK ]}

*² For some reason, the Oxford-born Wallis has apparently forgotten how to do an "Oxford-English" accent, instead slipping into Americanising her character's voice every third scene or so like an overenthusiastic DJ on a regional radio station. This infuriates me with American performers, but it's frankly baffling with an English one… ^{[ BACK ]}

*³ Although honourable mentions must go out to The Woman In Black, The Scorch Trials and Miss Peregrine, for showing exactly what you can do with a 12A... ^{[ 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: The Nice Guys

The Nice Guys
Cert: 15 / 116 mins / Dir. Shane Black / Trailer



While I try to remain open minded about the film business (no really, I try), first impressions count for a lot in this game and Shane Black's new buddy-actioner was on an uphill climb with me from the first time I saw the poster. Everything checks-in tonally, but the title and tag-line combination The Nice Guys: They're Not That Nice indicated that this would be a film which revelled in explaining its own jokes. And it was because of this that I was also lukewarm to to the trailers when they arrived, promising a film which couldn't quite commit to the raucous comedy that was clearly taking place in the background. Yep, catch me on the wrong day and I'll be the worst audience you could want for your movie. But hey, at least I'm upfront about that.

Nevertheless, I was still going to watch The Nice Guys, of course. While I've never exactly raved about the principal cast, this was the new movie from the director of Iron Man 3, for crying out loud. Alas, I needn't have worried after all that. Black's crime-romp is a sort of garishly-lit 1970s noir which, while it's consistently funny, is a lot more deadpan than the pacing of the trailer suggests. The film opens with dual-voiceovers from both private investigator Holland March (Ryan Gosling) and private enforcer Jackson Healy (Russell Crowe), narrating the similarly haphazard state of their lives and the circumstances that bring them together; the untimely death of porn-actress Misty Mountains, and disappearance of the Chief of Justice's daughter, Amelia. That the two are linked is in no doubt, how the two are linked will take the investigative pair on a trail of intrigue which goes full-circle through the criminal underworld, adult film-industry, automotive industry and law enforcement itself…

Now how much you enjoy the film will probably depend on how you're watching it. Personally I had it categorised as a comedy before we started, and the film is laugh-out-loud funny in its own alternative way. The film works as an actioner, but car-chases and fight-scenes aren't the strongest weapon in its arsenal; that would be the laughs. The screenplay's humour is by no means 'dark', but the director brings a certain bleakness to this caper which undercuts the gags, turning most of them from hearty guffaws to dry chuckles*¹. While there's always plenty going on, The Nice Guys often feels like it should be more fun than it is (although I also believe it's a better film for all that). Russell Crowe makes for a reassuringly solid comic straight-man and excels when he's hitting or shooting people, but struggles with his own humorous lines in comparison to Ryan Gosling (who seems far more comfortable as Hapless Fool™ than he does in many of his dramatic roles).

While the two leads carry most of the film, an honourable mention has to go to Angourie Rice as March's daughter, Holly. Her comic timing is perfect, and acting as the mature-half in the relationship with Gosling as her inept father, easily handles the most subtle role in the film with arguably more skill than any of the grown-ups handle their more pedestrian ones. Oh, and while I'm on, what's with the soft-focus on Kim Basinger's close-ups? You'd think after hiring her, they'd at least have the common courtesy of showing her face properly. If it's an in-joke to the way that 'mature' actresses used to be treated in Hollywood, then it's out-of-keeping with the realist 1970s aesthetic; if it's meant to be cinematic politeness, then it comes off as the underhanded opposite.

Too cynical and self-aware to be a mainstream smash, but too much fun for a serious statement, I think that this movie will gain more of a cult-status than the casting and marketing would suggest. As fantastic as the end result is, The Nice Guys can never quite decide if it wants to be a black comedy or a wry, self-effacing action movie.

But even though the two strands never quite join seamlessly, it still makes a pretty good stab at them both…

It's a sort of halfway-house between L.A. Confidential and Inherent Vice, with maybe a smattering of Jackie Brown thrown in for good measure.



Only if you like 'em big and loud.



Just about, yeah.



Not quite, but damned close.



Probably not.



There isn't, although we do get a boot-shot and a "I've got a bad feeling about this…"
(The film is set in 1977 yet there's not a mention of Star Wars to be seen. Well played, Mr Black. No, seriously: few writers would have been able to resist that one.)



Level 2: Let's go for the easiest route here: Ryan Gosling is due to star in the upcoming Blade Runner sequel, as is Harrison 'Solo' Ford...



^^ That's not necessarily a strong 6, but it's definitely a better movie than a 5 would indicate.

*¹ Although not everyone took the comedy in a contemplative, genre-defying manner. One particular patron sat two rows behind me found the film so hilarious that they started laughing when the BBFC card was displayed. I wish I was joking about that. Still, they enjoyed it very much, it's safe to say…


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: Man of Steel (second-pass)

Man of Steel (second-pass)
Cert: 12A / 143 mins / Dir. Zack Snyder / Trailer



Superman's mum is hot. There, I said it. I mean his Kryptonian mum (no offence Superman's Earth mum). I'd noticed this last time I watched the film, but I'd forgotten how much until now. This seemed to be a running theme, in fact. I'd also forgotten how much I enjoyed Man of Steel. I didn't forget that I enjoyed it, of course, just how much damned fun it is. Even the run-time didn't bother me too much this time around.

Another thing which slipped my mind is that both of Superman's dads here are Robin Hood. If that's not the setup for a sitcom, I don't know what the hell is.

But yeah, I had great fun revisiting Zack Snyder's retooling of Krypton's last son. I love how much time we get to spend on his home planet at the beginning of the film. It's not a throwaway setup, it's an entire prologue and everything which follows benefits massively from its inclusion. And even if the last hour of the movie is essentially an extended fight scene, it's a one which doesn't let up.

Although really, Kal? Now you sigh audibly and snap Zod's neck? Before the cowering family in the corner are bisected, but after hundreds of thousands have been crushed under the collapse of Metropolis? Oh, alright then…

Still holding up well after a few years, Man of Steel is DC proving that they can play with the big boys. Or rather, proving that they are one of the big boys.



Tonally, it's somewhere between Chris Nolan's Batman and Tim Burton's Batman.



If you get the chance, sure.



More than.



It's certainly the best I've seen Cavill.



Nope.



There certainly is.



Level 2: This film's got Larry Fishburne in it, and he was in that Apocalypse Now, as was Harrison 'Solo' Ford.







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: L.A. Confidential

L.A. Confidential (1997)
Cert: 18 / 132 mins / Dir. Curtis Hanson / Trailer



You've got to hand it to Curtis Hanson, L.A. Confidential is a film which knows exactly what it wants to be, and wastes no time slipping on the plaid sports jacket of 1950s sleaze and intrigue. A pantomime of a crime-romp, it never quite descends into camp territory thanks to the poker-faces of the cast, with the leading trio of Kevin Spacey, Guy Pearce and Russell Crowe playing their roles completely straight despite clearly having an absolute hoot as the three-degrees of police corruption.

They're supported ably by a raft of both character and leading actors, most notably Danny DeVito and Kim Basinger, each commanding the screen entirely in parts which are almost understated, narratively. (As an aside, am I the only one who things the young Russell Crowe here is like a young Ewan McGregor in his look and mannerisms? There's a vulnerability in his performance which I haven't seen before or since*¹, and this might be the most likeable performance I've ever seen him give. What happened, Russell?)

The only eyebrow-raising aspect of the film is the absurd amount of ADR going on, whereby the slightest and most indistinct of mouth-movements appears to result in some of the clearest dialogue you've ever heard. I'm not complaining about that as I can't stand mumbling in films, but the effect is quite jarring at times, especially if you're watching in hi-def.

L.A. Confidential is a quite remarkable and wholly uncynical homage to the gangbuster movie of Hollywood's golden age, the likes of which wouldn't get made in 2015.

In fact, I'm amazed it was even made in 1997…

One didn't watch Kim Basinger thrillers in the 90s. It wasn't the done thing.



I am.



I would, in a sort of Sunday-afternoon-movie kind of a way.



Not that I heard.



Kevin Spacey starred in 2009's The Men Who Stare At Goats, as did Ewan 'Kenobi' McGregor.







*¹ Although to be fair, I find Crowe non-specifically unlikeable to the point where he's not 'a draw' for me when it comes to choosing movies to watch, so he could be putting out the most touching films that humanity's ever seen and I wouldn't know about it. But I doubt that, somehow. I doubt that a lot.

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: Noah

Noah
Cert: 12A / 138 mins / Dir. Darren Aronofsky




While I'll freely admit that I found Darren Aronofsky's interpretation of Noah far more engaging than the trailer had suggested, I'd still be hard-pushed to tell you that I enjoyed watching it. Veering between batshit-crazy and infuriatingly monotonous, as an exercise in film-making, I think it's unfocused compared to Aronofsky's other work. As an exercise in storytelling, it's all over the shop, with the inconsistencies of the original tale and a whole host of new ones. Although to be fair, most of those pale into insignificance when Ray Winstone's army is being battered into the dirt by 20ft high Rock-Megatrons. The first half of the film has some gorgeous touches (the constellations visible in the daytime sky, the strangely modern wardrobe choices), but by the time the rains come the creativity takes a back seat to the brooding storyline. It's surprisingly well acted given how preposterous it all is (with the exception of Jennifer Connelly's "emotional scene").

Besides, when you've got Percy Jackson and Hermione Granger on your team, surviving a heavy shower should be a doddle, shouldn't it?

Like a drunken mashup between Lord of the Rings, Kevin Smith's Dogma and Hitchkiker's Guide To The Galaxy*¹, Noah has to be seen to be believed. A striking effort indeed, but an effort at what, I'm not sure.

In many ways, not at all. Those aspects of the trailer are in the film, but that's not an accurate summation, no.



I don't think so, but it held my attention.



I have no idea.



It does look nice on a massive screen, but this is an Orange Wednesdays kind of film.



No. If anything, talk to me about it, I don't care if we disagree.



I doubt it, but never say never.



I didn't hear one. Plenty of opportunity, too.

If God's been flooding the UK recently because he doesn't like The Gays, how come he told Noah everything was going to be just fantastic now by sending him a massive rainbow, eh?

*¹ Because I really wanted one of those angels to say "God? Don't talk to me about God..."

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.