Credit where it's undeniably due, when you put your money down to see Dexter Fletcher's Elton John biopic, RocketMan, you know pretty much exactly what to expect, and that’s pretty much exactly what’s delivered. The fact that the film is also (mostly) fantastic is a bonus atop of this directional clarity.
SAILING It’s not all plain sailing. I struggled with the two child-iterations of our hero and storyteller, the whole thing having a distinct am-dram air as a heavy-handed rendition of childhood strife is laid out for the hard-of-thinking in the audience. But at the moment - that very frame - where Taron Egerton takes the reins, I instantly relaxed back into my seat with the thought ’ahh, it’s going to be great now’. And so it proved. The Kingsman star is shaping up to be one of the greatest performers of his generation, effortlessly endearing even when he’s portraying a self-confessed diva.
On that subject, naturally this whole thing should be taken with a pinch of salt so large it requires its own health warning. Sure, we see Elton John as a self-obsessed bundle of nervous energy, self aggrandisement and bad decision-making, but never forget that this is Elton John’s version of bad-boy Elton John. Many scenes seem to carry the subtext that things were probably either nowhere near that bad or about a hundred times worse. Let's just say that you don’t need to wait until the closing credits tell you that Elton John was the executive producer of this to work out that Elton John was the executive producer of this.
LEGEND
But the music’s great (as you’d expect) and the flashback-based structure is loose enough to have fun with the well-known facts while not getting too bogged down in plot-minutiae. All was going swimmingly until one particular climactic moment where I may or may not have broken The Code by muttering “oh fuck off!”, so needlessly literal is its amateur-hour psychoanalysis. But that’s fine because we still end on a high, and the ride leading up to it was great fun. Bonus points for the 'what happened next' cards which close out the film, in case anyone is sitting in the auditorium thinking 'yeah, because Elton's kept a very low profile since 1990, is he still around at all..?
Oh, and how come in the John Lewis advert he gets the piano for Christmas and is instantly entranced by it, but in this film the piano's just in the dining room anyway and he starts playing it one day for no reason?
It is, but watch it in the cinema for the full effect.
Fletcher goes from strength to strength, Egerton is fantastic as always*1
Bryce Dallas Howard should be a fun revelation, but her accent's Downton Abbey one moment and Eastenders the next. And while there are some scenes where she's putting on airs, I don't think that's intentional for the amount of times she wanders over the line.
As much as I love most of this film, that's still a distinct possibility.
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.
Yardie Cert: 15 / 102 mins / Dir. Idris Elba / Trailer
The problem when you're an actor as accomplished as Idris Elba and you move into directing with a project you're clearly passionate about is… well, expectation. Because people are waiting for great things to follow that BBFC card, and even though that's half the critical battle won, what comes next will be the decider.
Adapted by Martin Stellman and Brock Norman Brock from Victor Headley's 1992 novel, Yardie follows a young Jamaican, D (as in D for Dennis, played by Aml Ameen) making his way up the drug-dealing ladder in 1983 Kingston as he's then sent to London to calm him down. The turf wars of his homeland become the sound-system battles of England's capital, but the difference is only superficial as old scores have followed D across the Atlantic, in addition to the trouble he packed himself…
In short, Yardie is a good film.
In long, it's not a great one, though… Aml Ameen is outstanding in the main role, carrying the charisma of a young Jamie Foxx. I wanted Yardie to be longer just to watch him more and look forward to seeing him lead other movies. Meanwhile, Elba does well to resist the temptation of getting distracted by the story's outlandish secondary characters. Most notably, Stephen Graham's Rico is to Yardie what Sharlto Copley's Vernon is to Free Fire; a loose cannon who amuses and terrifies in equal measure, with a fantastic faux-Jamaican accent which dips into Cockney whenever he loses control*1. Yet he's still used sparingly here; less is more.
The sets and period detail are gorgeous in their urban decay. The claustrophobia of D's life when he reaches England means that the final result looks slightly less than cinematic, but still so much more than televisual. While cinematographer John Conroy has obviously been limited to locales which fit the 1983 aesthetic, East London is presented with the same meticulous affection as West Kingston. Everything in Yardie feels like it's been done on the director's terms, and is more rewarding as a result. It's not so much that it's an 'uncompromising' film tonally, but still one that's been made without compromise.
But it's a film that can't manage to sweep its audience away to another world completely, probably unless they've already got a first-hand nostalgia for the location and era, anyway*2. Yardie never quite manages to find its own voice. While Elba's work has an intimate, if not autobiographical, feel to it, the fingerprints of Guy Ritchie and Matthew Vaughn are plain to see (in the best possible way). An anti-hero trying to find his place among gang wars and infighting, set against the backdrop of a grimy metropolis, this could be the closest to a Grand Theft Auto flick we've had since the game series began. Certainly the closest which also takes its story very seriously.
But that's the problem. Structurally, the tale is so universal that the events could easily be transferred to the echelons of the Mafia, the Yakuza, or yes a GTA spinoff, with barely a beat missed. The only real fingerprint of identity is reduced to a background setting. At the same time, the story here is personal to the point that the stakes never feel that big. It's about D's own struggle rather than that of a movement or an era, and this holds back the flow back because D is a naturally guarded person, he's had to be, so the audience always feel like outsiders.
A crime movie like this is only going to end one of two ways, and you get the impression that either of them wouldn't have had much of an effect on the larger picture. The gang problem existed in both Kingston and London before D got involved, and whether he lives or dies at the end of this, the audience know it'll continue anyway. Similarly, the small family our protagonist manages to start certainly seems to be getting on better in his absence than when he returns in a turbulent cloud of problems. That he cares for them is never in any doubt; whether he's the best thing for them, is. We're interested in D, we just never get the opportunity to really like him. And without that, it's difficult to be rooting for the hero.
There's plenty to enjoy in Yardie. This is a solid directorial debut for Elba, but it feels slightly constrained by working from an adapted novel. But given the man's acting pedigree and now this vision behind the camera, I think Idris is going to be an important filmmaker in the years to come.
Best line:"Take your grandma's suitcase and get to fuck…"
Level 1: That outpost-trader from the Ring Of Kafrene in Rogue One is in this.
You know the one. You do. You know him.
*1 I'm not going to lie, a lot of the Jamaican conversational dialogue went right over my head, even though the gist of the story was still very clear. Elba made a joke in a recent interview about a subtitled version of the film, and while I realise that would be patronising (especially with screenings in the UK), let's just say I'm looking forward to the DVD... [ BACK ]
*2 And for the record, while we're here, I'm not a fan of Reggae, Dancehall or Ska. So while everyone else is all "oh, but the soundtrack!", that was another hill I was having to climb. I mean it didn't annoy me as I know it's integral to the movie, but at the same time I couldn't use the music as an entry-point to build upon. [ 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.
And so, the second of Saturday's schoolings in cinematic prejudice arrived directly after the first, in the shape of writer/director Dan Cadan's Walk Like A Panther. The feelgood tale of a village in Yorkshire which is home to a troupe of retired show-wrestlers, who decide to regroup to raise funds to save their beloved pub from closure*1, it does exactly (exactly) what it says on the tin.
I won't lie, this was another schedule-booster. I wasn't looking forward to it. The trailer makes it look dreadful. But utilising an ensemble-cast of British character actors, Cadan manages to craft a tale which is as gleefully entertaining as it is reassuringly conventional. Walk Like A Panther may look like The Full Monty in leotards*2, but it's closer in spirit to The Last Of The Summer Wine if that was rebooted by Guy Ritchie.
The film requires the audience to be forgiving of its worst excesses before they even sit down, telegraphed not just through the trailer but also the first act itself. And with two music-set training montages and dramatic hurdles arriving like clockwork, if this was any more mechanical it would be a Pacific Rim cosplay party. But the characters develop on-cue and it's got genuine humour and undeniable heart, saved by a cast who go all-in.
Front and centre are Dave Johns and Stephen Graham as the father/son cornerstone of a story about changing times, nostalgia and legacy. Concentrating more on its character-turns than plot, the 'save the pub' structure almost takes a back seat at several points, but the lurking presence of Stephen Tomkinson's resident corporate-bogeyman pulls the story back on-track when it's needed. Tomkinson goes Full Panto™ and manages to chew his way through the scenery, the actor's thespic gnashers posing a bigger threat to the sets than the third-act bulldozers. It's also maybe worth noting that Johns has his apparently usual struggle of maintaining his own Geordie accent in the unnamed Yorkshire village in which the action takes place, although I love that there's not a mention of how his screen-son Graham's accent is his own ingrained Scouse twang.
But for a film I had huge reservations about watching, I'm pleased to say I found it inordinately entertaining. Bear in mind that even though I lived through its 1970s televisual heydey, I care as much about wrestling as I do about football. After months of cold gloom and trudging to the cinema through snow at the beginning of March, Walk Like A Panther could well be the spring breeze which melted my winter coat of cynicism*3. Considering its conception and execution, this movie is far better than it has any plausible right to be*4.
Sometimes as the credits roll, a film leaves you with nothing but the memory of having broadly smiled for two hours. But sometimes, that's more than enough...
The Full Monty, Brassed Off, Up 'n' Under.
Yes, those ones from two decades ago.
*3 I mean we'll see, obviously. At the time of writing I've still got Tomb Raider, A Wrinkle In Time and Ready Player One to go, yet... [ BACK ]
*4 Although one patron in their late-40s /early-50s walked out after 25 minutes. That's basically the target audience. [ 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 Santa Cert: U / 102 mins / Dir. Christopher Smith
So writer/drector Christopher Smith's idea of a U-rated, 21st century Christmas Film™ is centered around a convicted criminal with repressed memory syndrome over a childhood encounter with an old man..? I suppose the only way to follow that up would be to set around half of the film in a men's prison, like a Christmas Special of Starred Up? Oh, I'm only joking. Well, that is also the film, but I'm only joking about it being in some way inappropriate. It's undeniably an odd choice for a festive flick, but Smith pretty much pulls it off.
Newly refreshed from a two-year holiday at Her Majesty's pleasure, getaway driver Steve Anderson (Rafe Spall) is anxious to reconnect with his young son Tom (Kit Connor), and strained relations with his estranged wife (Jodie Whittaker) don't help the situation any. Meanwhile, a herd of reindeer wandering around central London is reported on the TV news, and on the 23rd of December Tom spies a mysterious stranger (Jim Broadbent) in his garage, panicking about the loss of the herd and his sleigh. Could the man really be who he claims he is? And what will happen to Christmas if he's right..?
So all in all, the film's pretty good. Y'know, but. The structure itself is solid enough, but the narrative is in need of some repair. The screenplay can feel fairly clunky in that the central character is just released from prison largely because he needs the inside knowledge to spring Santa from that same prison later in the film, as does the fact that he drives a camper van largely because he'll need to transport a reindeer further down the line. Eyebrow-raisers like that wouldn't matter so much if this was a saccharine, feel-good festive flick, but the first act in particular has a layer of realism that you don't normally see in this type of film...
Despite the U-rating and the youthful co-star, Get Santa never really feels like a kids' movie. Spall has far more to do than his on-screen son, and while Steve undergoes some character development, the same can't be said of young Tom sadly, who just seems to complain and drag his dad from scene to scene. As a bonafide Christmas Film™, Tom should be the driving force of the story, but instead he's sidelined to being a sidekick.
It's also worth stating that with Tommy and Mullet from Snatch, and Cookie and Tank from RocknRolla, it feels a bit like a Guy Ritchie reunion flick at times. That's no bad thing, by the way, it's just how my mind works. But I get the feeling that had the script left Tom's character at home with his mum, ramped up the comic-violence and bad language and gone for a 15-cert, Get Santa could have been a much more satisfying film, somehow*1. The film's got it where it counts, but it's only good where it could be great.
But you know what? Charming and funny as Christmas films go, Get Santa is pretty damned good. I don't think it'll become a classic, but everyone involved should be proud to have it on their CV.
It's also nicely underplayed, but I loved the ongoing theory that Santa has all the tools and methodology of a serial burglar. Rafe Spall and Jim Broadbent are fantastic, while Warwick Davis, Stephen Graham and Nonso Anozie are clearly having a whale of a time, and there aren't many films which could make six farting reindeer quite this endearing.
Some questions which aren't covered by section 7b, below: • In 'Barber's solo-scene, how come he's watching the TV sitcom Porridge on Channel 4? They don't have the broadcast rights for that programme, do they? (Unless he's watching the film spin-off, but I'm fairly certain he wasn't; the tape/film-stock difference between the two is jarring, and would be evident even in an in-movie appearance)
• Not all of the reindeer are namechecked, but where the hell's Rudolph? Or is 'Get Rudolph' being lined up as a sequel?
The film's best references: • It wouldn't be a prison comedy without a direct nod to The Shawshank Redemption.
• There's also a much smoother Back To The Future, 'I'm sorry it's not to scale' reference.
• Steve's son is called (and named in full by Santa as) Thomas Anderson, which is the 'civilian' name of Neo in The Matrix. Which would make white-bearded Santa The Architect, given his extensive knowledge about all of the other characters in the film. This could also go some way to explaining the reality-bending sequences, given that it's all a simulation. Admittedly, my brain may have made a connection here where there isn't one.
Get Santa's best line: "Are you on medication? …Or worse, are you not on medication?"
In the warm, fuzzy moments; yes.
Mostly, I think.
As a Christmas Film™? Pretty much.
If you want to see it this year, cinema it is. Otherwise, this is a Sunday afternoon DVD with sherry and mince pies.
Nah.
I will. Although probably just at home with sherry and mince pies.
I thought I heard one when young Tom goes to investigate movement in his garden shed in the middle of the night; y'know, when there should have been an owl sound-effect. Unless it was a just combination of my tinnitus and the deafening volume-level in the auditorium, of course.
Do you know how often there's a full moon on Christmas Eve? Not often at all. So either a) the film takes place specifically in 1996 or 2007, or b) the moon is used as a narrative symbol to subconsciously illustrate to the audience that this is a work of fantasy, and that while the themes and ideals of the plot should be taken to heart, the actualities of the plot shouldn't.
Or c) having Santa's sleigh silhouetted against a full moon is just lazy screenwriting.
One of those.
*1 Although at one point, a police officer does get reindeer-faeces blasted directly into her face on Christmas Eve. Directly. Although the screenplay doesn't address it, I think we all know that she's going to go blind by New Year...
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.
