And so on a mild Saturday evening in the heart of London's glittering West End, high on the adrenaline of three back-to-back movies and executing what I can only describe as An Uncharacteristically High Level Of Consumer Persistence, your humble correspondent managed to snag a last minute seat in the sold-out screening of the final film in the British Independent Film Festival programme. The feature was Eat Local, written by Danny King and directed by Tom from off of Lock, Stock.
In a remote farmhouse in one of England's southern counties, eight ancient vampire lords meet to discuss the borders between their territories and ensure their general survival. But all is not well inside the house, as the powerful traditionally do not like to share power. And all is worse outside the house as a military strike-team assembles with a view to bagging some prey of their own…
Now my initial thought, before the lights were properly dimmed, was 'aren't festival audiences badly behaved?'. Phones out, shouting across the room, laughing, and one particular patron located a couple of rows behind me who, through the combination of body odour and a more herbal essence, smelled like he'd been smoking weed whilst zorbing for ten hours straight. After a brief introductory speech, the film began and pretty much every name appearing on-screen through the titles elicited a whoop, holler or cheer. It was at that point of course that I realised - festival or otherwise - I was effectively watching the film with the cast and crew*1. Whether this communally heightened sense of engagement let to me enjoying Eat Local more than I would have under civilian conditions, is hard to say. But I enjoyed it, nonetheless.
As a seasoned actor with a solid reputation and wide professional circle, Jason Flemyng has assembled an impressive array of performers*2 to appear in his directorial debut. Eve Myles, Annette Crosbie, Freema Agyeman, Charlie Cox, Vincent Regan, Tony Curran, Jordan Long and relative newcomer Billy Cook lead the charge, with Ruth Jones, Dexter Fletcher*3, McKenzie Crook and Robert Portal (among many others) supporting in smaller roles. For a film which takes place almost entirely at night and in basically two locations, it's heavily populated, but the script is light enough to keep things moving briskly.
So as you might expect, there's an above-average amount of humour in the film, with deadpan, sarcasm and blood-dripping farce all intertwining throughout. And while things stay 'playful' without straying into silly territory, it maybe feels a little too arch for its own good. We never delve too deeply into the particular vampire-mechanics of this outing, although there's enough backstory provided to bring the audience up to speed with the weapons which can and can't be used against them. Because the weapons are the other focus here, when the characters aren't bickering with each other. I mentioned Lock, Stock at the beginning because there's a clear tonal homage here to Guy Richie's classic (and a visual one in the scene where Annette Crosbie lets loose with some heavy weaponry - obviously a comic moment, but nowhere near as overplayed as it would be in many another film). And it works well, but the whole film has that overtly Indie™ quality which might cause it to age poorly. Time will tell.
The best line comes courtesy of Tony Curran's Caledonian vampire, Peter:
"Ah'm no a racist. I'll kill anybody, no matter where they're from. Doesnae bother me…"
Not necessarily a smart film but well-constructed and consistently funny and engaging, my only real issue with Eat Local is that if features Freema Agyeman with fangs, a plaid shirt and an assault rifle: and no-one thought to tell me about this sooner…
Dog Soldiers.
And I must confess that I say that as someone who watched Dog Soldiers at the cinema and loved it and bought it on DVD the day it came out then didn't watch it for a long time then revisited the film a couple of years ago and was horrified with how clunky and amateurish the whole thing is despite being a solid concept at its core and still containing many things I love. I'm not saying Eat Local will be awful in ten years' time. Although by then I can't imagine many people will care. This is rather good, and I think conceptually it's on the same page as Dog Soldiers.
As much as I enjoyed it in the cinema, the natural home for Eat Local is on DVD at around midnight with friends and booze.
With relatively low aims other than being a coherent and fun vampire caper, yes.
Not particularly, then again it's not really meant to change the world. This is Jason Flemyng trying his hand at directing a genre piece and largely succeeding. I look forward to his next project very much.
Nope.
Oh, yes.
Sticks out like a sore thumb, but it's proudly in there so I approve.
Level 2: So many to choose from here, but let's go with this film starring Annette Crosbie, who appeared in 1968's Mrs Brown, You've Got A Lovely Daughter as did Drewe 'Red Leader From The Battle Of Yavin' Henley.
*1 This was confirmed during the after-film speech by the director himself, in which he asked any audience members with no connection to the film to raise their hands, and me and about nine other people in the sold-out auditorium duly identified ourselves. I hasten to add that I never felt unwelcome or like an imposter in the room, but there was the definite air of arriving late to a party and being three drinks behind everyone else. [ BACK ]
*2 More accurately of course, casting director Lucinda Syson has assembled the performers. Although given how many of Flemyng's former co-stars from across the years appear, I'm fairly certain that he was instrumental to some extent ;)[ BACK ]
*3 That's right, Spike From Off Of Press Gang. I met him on Saturday as well. Not even at this screening, I'd just harassed him earlier in Fopp Records, off Cambridge Circus. He was doing that thing of wearing earphones despite not listening to anything in a bid to stop people talking to you. Even though that clearly didn't work in my case. He's lovely. [ 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.
It's a rare film which promises exactly what you'd expect and then delivers on it perfectly. Even moreso when it comes to the often uneven genre of comedy. Mindhorn is a rare film. Washed up TV actor, Richard Thorncroft, is called back to his old stomping ground on the Isle Of Man to revisit his most famous character, as a superfan/serial-killer threatens to strike again unless he can speak to the fictional 1980s super-detective… Mindhorn.
I laughed like a drain throughout this film, and the rest of the audience weren't far behind me. The film's title-sequence featuring Mindhorn's TV-opening credits and interview snippets is glorious in itself, and the amount of world-building that goes on is of Garth Marenghi levels. In fact the only real grumble I have about the film is that we don't really get much more in the way of the recreated TV show itself once the idea is established.
One of the (even) weirder aspects of the film is the sense of agoraphobia generated by seeing the expansive scenery of the Isle of Man which, bar a couple of scenes, is populated by almost no extras. The island ends up feeling like an abandoned theme-park, increasing the unease in an already borderline surreal story.
Julian Barratt is front and centre of the show (like Richard Thorncroft would have it any other way), but is supported more than ably by Andrea Riseborough, Essie Davis, Richard McCabe, Steve Coogan, Russell Tovey and Simon Farnaby*1, as well as a smattering of cameo performances from the more dramatic end of the spectrum. Although for all Barratt's many comedic collaborators over the years, the Fielding brothers are notable by their absence.
In all fairness, this feels like one of those sitcom spin-off movies that gets released in August. Unapologetically televisual in both scope and execution (other than that gorgeous 2.35:1 aspect-ratio), Mindhorn celebrates its fictional roots rather than trying to adapt itself beyond them. Any issues which arise from what is essentially TV-writing on a big screen (it's only 89 minutes and it still begins to sag a little) are overcome by the film's self-awareness and brazen silliness. Plus, as it doesn't have any actual TV show to be compared to, the film doesn't have that particular hurdle to clear in the first place.
I love that four years ago, Andrea Riseborough was partnering a sci-fi actioner with Tom Cruise, and here she is playing the straight man in a kitsch farce set on the Isle of Man. Fantastic stuff.
*1 And as a stand-in for Mindhorn/Thorncroft, which I'm taking as a clear reference to this episode of The Mighty Boosh, not least since Barratt and Farnaby wrote Mindhorn. [ 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.
I think I was right the other week, it must still be March. Demonstrating that there's still plenty of filler-thriller left on the shelves, Michael Apted's latest offering sees Noomi Rapace lead as a CIA agent working undercover with the UK security forces in anti-terrorism operations, her particular skill being the psychological manipulation of captured enemy operatives to reveal secrets and intel. In the middle of a relatively routine job, she realises that her organisation has been compromised, the clock is ticking and - you've guessed it - she doesn't who just who she can trust…
Leaving aside for one moment the industrial-strength levels of cynicism I'm able to draw upon when considering Unlocked, it's not really that bad a film. It's just desperately searching for a USP, and is so mechanical that our screening had an interval so that Peter O'Brien's screenplay could be wound back up again. The pacing is efficient enough at a standard-issue 98 minutes and with Rapace being joined by the likes of Toni Collette, Orlando Bloom, Michael Douglas and John Malkovich, its casting budget is impressive at least*1. Speaking of performers, Bloom swaggers through his scenes like a cockney Noel Gallagher, Malkovich acts almost entirely with his ears and Rapace does so with her right eyebrow. Everyone else is firmly on autopilot for dour-faced foot-chases around North London*2. By the time Collette breaks out the machine gun semi-ironically, the third-act is in the post as surely as its timer-countdown ending.
While it's clear that there's some dramatic traction to the story being told, the 21st century is a crowded marketplace for the 'Bad Man Has A Bomb™' techno-thriller, and this film has little to sell.
To its credit, Unlocked features three (three) separate product-placement ads for Irn-Bru. It's not even like the thing takes place in Edinburgh, or anything. That's almost as impressive as the time Seabrook crisps rocked up in Fast & Furious.
Not unless desaturated huffing and puffing through the streets of London is your thing. This was made for the £3 shelf in Asda, or preferably Netflix.
Oh, probably.
All flippancy and sarcasm aside, it's not.
Nope.
Not that I heard.
Level 1: That Akshay Kumar's in this, and he's in the upcoming Last Jedi movie. He's listed on the IMDB as "First Order Monitor". Going to assume for now that's some command-centre type role, rather than a GFFA 'milk monitor'?
*1 Although it does feel quite like like Michael Douglas was called in for a couple of days' shooting as a favour here, and John Malkovich similarly booked for a few days there. Each of their scenes feels strangely detached from everything else in the movie. Like that time Morgan Freeman was locked in a broom cupboard to record his bits for London Has Fallen... [ BACK ]
*2 Although our heroes do get a black-cab at one point. As the car pulls up we hear the driver say "That'll be £12.50, please". Given that this is London and the 21st century, I'm left assuming they took a taxi for around the length of one street? [ 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.
Standard operating procedure, mate. Begin a day's film-viewing with a tense and complex drama unfolding around a subject about which you know little or nothing! But we can only obey the most efficient cinematic schedule, never change it.
John Madden's political drama stars Jessica Chastain as its subject, a US lobbyist who takes on the task of persuading senators to vote for tighter firearms regulations. The film opens at a congressional hearing in which Sloane is being indicted for violations of Senate ethics-rules. Character closeups then spark a series of personalised flashbacks, to fill in the three months' events leading up to this moment.
The story structure requires thisformat , with its reveals and character-building dependent on the courtroom scene we know is coming. The pacing of the film however, suffers a little under the non-linear timeline, with stretches of backstory becoming longer and taking over the narrative 'now', jarring when we drop back to the trial. Miss Sloane is a densely scripted affair, with a lot of fast talking and legal shorthand thrown at the viewer but with enough smart-arsed quips and shouting to break things up for a civilian audience (ie. the audience).
Alison Pill, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, John Lithgow and Mark Strong all offer sterling supporting performances but this really is Jessica Chastain's show, and she's fantastic in a film which never really gets past quite-good. Constantly engaging and 'dumbed down' enough for even me to follow easily, I'd still be hard pushed to recommend it as an entertaining watch. But the film handles a sensitive subject without resorting to hysterics or even taking sides other than 'they're all shifty, mate'. Miss Sloane is more about the lobbying process itself than what the characters are pushing for.
Best line: "Career suicide's not so bad when you consider that the alternative is suicide-by-career…"
The only real downside for me was the lack of narrative-transformation on the part of our eponymous protagonist. While the events of the film gradually reveal Elizabeth Sloane to be principled but flawed, she's supposed to come across at the film's beginning as an obsessive, inaccessible perfectionist, striking fear into the hearts of those around her rather than awe or admiration*1….
But in an early scene where Sloane washes her hands in a work restroom, we see her then use a paper towel to grab the door handle, forming a barrier between herself and any germs left behind by less diligent colleagues. And in that moment, I thought that's someone with such a fundamental distrust of other people's basic decency and self-awareness that I pretty much just fell in love with the character before the door had swung closed again.
And if I'm on-side from Act I, where's the development, eh?
The Big Short.
Except this is easier to follow and features characters who aren't all uniformly awful.
That won't be essential to get the most out of the film.
I think it does, although the subject matter is largely alien to me, so I can't say for certain.
Maybe not best but certainly on the front-page.
Nope.
Nope.
Level 2: Gugu Mbatha-Raw's in this, and she was in some episodes of that Doctor Who programme along with David 'Huyang' Tennant.
*1 Although at one point, we see Sloane reading a John Grisham novel of an evening. For someone who spends an inordinate amount of time around lawyers for a living, this shows a damning lack of imagination on the character's part. That'd be like expecting an astronaut on the ISS to watch episodes of Star Trek after clocking-off for the day. I'm not saying it wouldn't happen, but everyone else would quite rightly take the piss. [ 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.
