Author: Daniel

Nothing Exceeds Like Excess

Directed by Peter Jackson; starring Naomi Watts, Jack Black, Adrian Brody…

Just as Wile E Coyote and the Roadrunner are natural enemies so, we’re told, movie directors must fight against evil studio bosses in their eternal struggle to make Great Art despite corporate interference. Lately, though, I’ve been noticing that some of the best movies have actually been made under the thumb if heavy-handed studio oversight. Hmm… Perhaps discipline and financial control can actually be good for the creative process.

Star Wars is an interesting example. George Lucas was a young, independent filmmaker with one hit (American Graffiti) when he started shooting the first movie. He was dependent upon the goodwill of his studio, which provided a modest budget and adult supervision in the form of producer Alan Ladd Jr. The result is still the definition of movie magic. In 1999, when Lucas started on the three prequels, he was a super-star mogul with his own studio. He had total creative control and an unlimited budget for Phantom Menace, Attack of the Clones, and Return of the Sith, even shooting them in-house at his Skywalker ranch. Having got through all of these once I, for one, cannot watch them again; they are objectively dreadful to the point that they taint my enjoyment of the original films.

Which brings us to Peter Jackson — a little-known New Zealander, with a couple of modest hits, when he started work on The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Rings was a labour of love and, though the films look like blockbusters, they were actually made on quite modest budgets (as such things are measured). Despite epic themes, the special effects never overwhelm the heart of the story, and Jackson finally brought a literary classic to full-blooded life on the screen.

The phenomenal success of the Ring movies, however, gave Jackson the keys to the kingdom for his big studio re-make of King Kong. The result shows how damaging it can for for a director to have too much money and too much independence.

King Kong starts promisingly enough with Jack Black quite effective as an ethically challenged filmmaker… The repartee is quick and the action lively as he entices struggling starlet Ann Darrow (Watts) and a writer (Brody) aboard a decrepit tramp freighter bound for Skull Island. Then we reach land and, after a bit of 1950’s National Geographic hoo-haw with the local natives, the action starts. And never stops.

The first set-piece lands our heroes in the middle of a rampaging dinosaur stampede that goes on long enough I thought it would be the centrepiece of the film. But it’s followed by another (very) extended chase sequence, then another as Ann is kidnapped by Kong and Brody’s newsman drags the rest of the crew along on a rescue mission. Soon it’s way too much of a good thing. The extended stunt sequences slow the pace of the story to a crawl as each plot point is held up for what seems hours until the set-piece ends. Trifles, such as dialogue and character, go flying out the window. Jackson would have been much better served by a much smaller budget that wouldn’t have had room for such follies.

With so much emphasis on the effects, his storytelling has also become uncharacteristically sloppy. Unfortunately these long sequences give us plenty of time to ask questions: what do the hundreds of enormous creatures eat on this tiny island?; how does some kid who’s never touched a firearm before Tommy Gun giant insects off the back of the hero without hitting him at least once?; how did the dozens of ship’s crew (brought along to be slaughtered by the monsters) all fit on that tiny boat?

The Lord of the Rings films were long, but I sat entranced through every minute. Here, when Kong starts to climb the skyscraper, I just wanted him to die already – so I could go outside and give my aching bum a break.

THUMB DOWN

Does What it Says on the Tin

Directed by JJ Abrams; starring Chris Pine, Zachary Quinto, Leonard Nimoy, Eric Bana, Bruce Greenwood, Karl Urban, Zoe Saldana, Simon Pegg…

JJ Abrams’ reboot of the Star Trek franchise begins with a brilliant idea. It travels all the way back to the original series for a new adventure with Kirk, Spock, Bones, and the rest — still the best (and best loved) crew of any Trek franchise. Yet, by focusing on their previously unseen early lives and first voyage it is able to tell its own, original story (and find a way to finally retire the old stagers for a hot new cast).

The film opens with a prequel sequence in which a Federation starship encounters a vast, mysterious, and hostile alien craft. Battle ensues and the good guys are promptly blown to bits (cue massive hull ruptures and bodies blown picturesquely into space). The Captain decides the only option left is to ram the enemy with his crippled ship. Of course the autopilot is out of action, so he has to sacrifice himself to steer the collision course. Jaw heroically clenched, he gives the order to abandon ship.

Cut to the medical shuttle, where his pregnant wife is being evacuated. Despite the massive destruction she’s been carrying on a running conversation with our hero on the magic radio all Star Trek characters carry in one of their ears. Realizing he is staying behind, she is able — in the half-minute remaining — to give birth, tell him the child is a boy, and fight about its name. The successful christening of the tyke cues the collision of the two warships. More huge explosions follow, covering the escape of the crew in their shuttles.

After this giant hairball of gobstopping sentimentality and huge improbability you have no excuse for not knowing what you’re in for; the rest of the movie, as the British say, “does what it says on the tin.” In fact, the remaining ninety or so minutes — filled as they are with melodramatic confrontations, unlikely coincidences, and the convenient development of “impossible” technologies seconds before they’re needed — seem almost plausible in comparison.

But, if thisStar Trek is pure hokum, at least it’s well-done hokum. The new crew, who looked like a casting call for Star Trek 90210 in the early publicity, are superbly cast. At times they seem to be channelling the spirits of the original crew (Chris Pine, as the young Kirk, has Shatner’s swagger down pat) and the writers give all of them at least one good character moment to get the fans chortling.

The new visual aesthetic is also a real treat. Past Treks tended to look as though Apple computer had taken over the universe; everything was clean and bare and made of shiny white plastic. But this film is built from gritty metallic textures; spaces are cluttered and real looking.

If the last decades’ spate of comic-book movies have shown us anything, it is that origin stories are the best (I know I’m in the minority on that one). And this is a good origin story, with plenty of action but also moments of genuine emotion as our crew define themselves. These are fun characters and, as in the best episodes from the series, there is a terrific \ story here. We see the origins of Kirk and Spock’s friendship and learn why Kirk cannot accept that there is such a thing as a no-win situation.

And yet, and yet, it bothers me that this new Trek is so melodramatic, so over the top — so stupid. I’ve never thought the original series was as cerebral as the fan boys claim, but it wasn’t a brain-dead action franchise; it focussed on human stories and dabbled, at least with ideas. What we have here is pure space opera, where black holes are tossed about like hand grenades and blowing up your ejected nuclear engine is the space equivalent of a turbo boost. Of course, the preceding trailers for the new Transformers and GI Joe films looked even more infantile.

Really, do Summer movies have to be this dumb?

WOBBLY THUMB

Harry Potter Graduates

Directed by David Yates; starring Daniel Radcliff, Rupert Gint, Emma Watson, Michael Gambon, Helena Bonham Carter, Alan Rickman…

Critics of books or movies tend to focus on plot; this is what “the story” is about, after all. And yet, the Harry Potter series stands as evidence of how unimportant plot really is to narrative art. Because the plotting of these incredibly successful books is just awful). The formula, set in the first book, is that each volume starts with Harry in the real world, followed by a magical journey to Hogwarts where we will follow him through the school year. Early in the new term he discovers some deadly threat to the Wizard world — and then promptly does nothing about it for increasingly lame reasons. There are still months and months to fill with peripheral action, after all, before graduation and the end of the school year/book.

And yet, the Potter series still works as stories because JK Rowling is so skilled at the other elements of narrative: especially setting and character. She creates a marvellously real, if fantastical, world of wizards and magic that is full of terrific, incidental detail (right down to the notices on the school bulletin boards). And all the adventures are rooted in a great set of characters. Through the seven books you see Harry wrestling with issues of identity (he’s an orphan whose closest living tie seems to be to the evil Voldemort) as he grows from child to awkward adolescent (as presently) to a fully realized adult. His friendship with the studious Hermione and the gawky Ron is not just terrific fun but provides a moral counterpoint to the evil characters who are incapable of such genuine loyalty and affection.

And the movies — thanks to a terrific cast, a strong focus on the characters, and a budget to do the stories justice — have succeeded beyond expectation. Often the films have improved upon the source material thanks to the discipline necessary to squeeze the action into a couple of hours (or less) running time. A two-hour movie is equivalent to a short novel or novella, not the sprawling monsters the later Harry Potters have become, and the movies have benefited from the pruning.

That said, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (the movie) finally seems to have been overwhelmed by the task of cutting 652 pages into a (still too long) two and a half hours. Skipping too quickly over too many incidents the movie feels rushed despite its length. Visits to a magic joke shop and the Weasley’s home just distract from the main story, which is about Harry helping Dumbledore collect bottled memories of Voldemort’s past as they search for a weakness in their foe. But here the movie cuts too much, omitting many of the memories described in the book. The result, plot-wise, is as sprawling and unfocused in its own way as the book.

Even more importantly, the setting and characters also lack the brilliance of the previous films. Half-Blood Prince is a sombre story as the wizard world prepares for its final showdown with Voldemort, but I wonder if the film had to be quite this dark and dreary. The trip to Hogwarts — usually a joyous occasion — is a brown journey through a burnt Autumn countryside, and the place itself is in serious need of new lightbulbs And the only real action sequence has Harry and Dumbledore flying alone to a remote cave to retrieve a Voldemort relic. This leaves the companionable team of Harry, Ron, and Hermione — who provide so much of the fun in the previous films — little to do but be angsty teens. Their dialogue consists of strangled utterances, Hermione (for some unfathomable reason) is mooning over Ron (who is basking in the attentions of a Quidditch groupy), and Harry is brooding about being “the chosen one.”

As the penultimate entry in the series, the purpose of Half-Blood Prince’s is to act as The Empire Strikes Back to the Deathly Hallows’ Return of the Jedi. So, even if it isn’t a strong outing in its own right, we can take heart that the final scene sets up a solid quest for the two-part finale still to come. After this misfire, let’s hope our heroes get the conclusion they deserve.

WOBBLY THUMB

Artsy But Not Fartsy

Directed and written by Zach Braff; starring Zach Braff, Natalie Portman, Ian Holm…

Artsy without being fartsy, quirky without being clueless, Garden State is one of the few good original movies this summer. It is also the perfect answer to those crashing bores who go on and on about how the US is only good at making big, hollow, special effects movies whilst Europe (and perhaps Canada…) produce artistic character-driven films.

Admittedly Garden State’s plot is pure formula. Andrew Largeman (Braff) is living a zombie existence in Los Angeles (he is a struggling actor who spends more time waiting tables than reading scripts) until a phone call informs him of his Mother’s sudden death and sends him back to his working-class hometown in New Jersey (the “Garden State” of the title). Soon “Large” is re-connecting with his old buddies, meeting a quirky girl named Sam (Portman), and tentatively re-engaging with his estranged Father (Holm). Will Sam re-awaken his dead emotions? Will we discover the cause of the split between him and his Father? Will the loser friends he left behind provide him with some sort of closure? Do Ducks quack?

This is all pretty familiar territory, but Garden Sate stands out in the return-to-your-roots-and-rediscover-life genre thanks to the sharpness of Braff’s eye as writer and director. (Previously known mainly as the dorky lead on TV’s Scrubs he is a triple threat here.) There is a realism and a sharpness to the scenes with his friends and father that make this old material seem fresh. And, while Natalie Portman is of the most beautiful women in the world in real life, her Sam is dressed down and damaged enough that you believe she might just be interested in Large. This is helped again by believable dialogue and quirky writing that manages to be both funny and touching. (Writing a believable relationship, like this, where the characters actually talk to one another is one of the most difficult task in the movies — if the rarity of it is anything to go by).

Finally, just watch as Braff’s camera roams around the contents of his doctor’s walls. I dare you not to laugh. This is just one of many brilliantly moments in this small but precisely observed film.

THUMB UP

The Brave One (USA 2007)
Artsy Crap is Still Crap

Directed by Neil Jordan; starring Jodie Foster, Terence Howard, Mary Steenburgen…

Once a director establishes themselves as an artiste it seems they can routinely get away with conventional schlock that would be instantly dismissed in the hands of lesser mortals. Witness the excessive praise showed on David Cronenberg’s A History of Violence, which featured some of the hoariest gangster movie cliches in the book. Or how seriously Paul Haggis’ pedantic Crash was taken despite its complete disconnect from anything resembling the real world (including a final automobile accident featuring not one, but two leaking gas tanks and a rescue from a car about to explode).

In the case of The Brave One, the disconnect between the film’s artistic pretensions and its low-brow plotting is so extreme that even some of the critics have noticed.
The film aims to be a realistic thriller about how the savagery of urban life could turn a gentle, artistic person into a gun-toting vigilante. But the plot is far too manipulative to be taken seriously as a realistic portrayal of anything. Incidental details also rarely rise above the level of exploitation movie cliche: Jodie Foster’s victim-turned-vigilante character is instantly skillful/lucky enough with a firearm to take out hardened hoodlums despite zero previous experience, and wherever she goes she finds thugs who need killing with convenient ease. The scenes portraying the psychological toll on our hero of all this mayhem don’t make the film realistic; they just add some grit to the revenge thriller vibe.

Were it not for the presence of people who have done much better work, The Brave One would just be a piece of straight to DVD schlock. As it is, you have to wonder what Neil Jordan and Jodie Foster were thinking. For her sake, let’s hope it’s the end of the road for a series of woman-in-jeopardy films that started with the excellent Panic Room (2002), continued with the tedious Flightplan (2005) and have now descended to this.

THUMB DOWN