J. Edgar

2011, 15, Directed by Clint Eastwood
Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Armie Hammer, Judi Dench, Naomi Watts

There is plenty of reason to gather excitement over a Clint Eastwood feature that depicts the much-speculated life of J. Edgar Hoover, the enigmatic figure who birthed the Federal Bureau Investigation, formulated the fingerprinting database and pranced about in women’s clothing. This is a biopic on a grand scale – one where the central character is embroiled in plenty of chronicled moments of the past century in America. The Kennedys, Martin Luther King, Communism; Clint ensures these are present in some manner. But it comes as a surprise that J. Edgar, for all its might, is more interested in adding to the intense scrutiny of his private life. In between the weighty moments where Hoover (a ferociously fervent and damn impressive Leonardo DiCaprio) dictates his memoirs to a scribe, as he reflects upon his 48 years as FBI director, his unconsummated and largely unspoken homosexual feelings towards colleague Clyde Tolson (The Social Network’s Armie Hammer) are where screenwriter Dustin Lance Black (Milk) appears to be most interested. No issue, apart from the fact that plot points and character interactions proposed near the commencement of the film are flung to the wayside by the halfway point, Naomi Watt’s trusty secretary Helen Gandy a prime victim. In fact, she is given the same thing to do countless times throughout the 137 minutes running time to the point where you wonder why the hell she is still working with the man himself so many years down the line. Judi Dench manages to shed some light as to the reason why her beloved Edgar is such an enigma; in one of the darker, more memorable scenes of the film, she tells an anecdote which explicitly states her views on homosexuality. That scene – as fictional as it may be - provides enough exposition as to why our unreliable narrator is so tightly wound. One thing is for sure - he is performed to the hilt by DiCaprio. It doesn’t matter whether it’s sprightly, young J. Edgar or prosthetic-induced old age J. Edgar, Leo shows how well he deals with versatility. It’s a shame then that the film as a whole is a rather underwhelming effort, not helped by the fact that huge promise surrounded a piece that was weighed down by a poor script, structure and use of prosthetics. A wasted opportunity.

2.5/5

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Hugo

U, 2011, Directed by Martin Scorsese
Starring: Asa Butterfield, Chloé Grace Moretz, Ben Kingsley, Sacha Baron Cohen

It may be hard to envisage legendary director Martin Scorsese, director of esteemed classics Raging Bull, Taxi Driver and GoodFellas, opting to work behind the lens on a U certificate children’s film. In 3D, no less. But within mere minutes of Hugo's startlingly beautiful opening sequence, with Parisian lights glistening in your face and dialogue-free action depicting our orphan protagonist Hugo Cabret’s face peering from behind the Gare Montparnasse's clocks, as he tracks the goings-on with the characterised individuals surrounding him, and it will hit you like a train: this is no children’s film, but a love letter to the medium Marty has become such an iconic part of – cinema.

Set in 1930s Paris, Hugo goes about his days hiding in the walls, manning the clocks and avoiding the station Inspector (Sacha Baron Cohen), all whilst attempting to repair the automaton (a mechanical man who can write messages) he and his father worked on before his untimely demise left Hugo on his lonesome.  It is through this event that we are introduced to the eccentric cast surrounding the loveable boy (played by The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas' Asa Butterfield, a revelation) and his new friend, young Isabelle (Kick Ass' Chloe Moretz, continuing to impress in everything): the aforementioned Inspector Gustav, played with relish by Cohen who steals every scene he finds himself in; Christopher Lee as a kindly librarian; and Ben Kinglsey as the grouchy owner of a toy shop who bears a secret that is inexplicably linked in a large part to Hugo’s ambition to repair the automaton. Needless to say, the film veers off to become associated with the technicalities of cinema, and a film that can be appreciated by all.

For the first time in quite a while, the 3D complements proceedings - somewhat ironically considering the feature's focus on a time when the silver screen had no sound let alone enhanced image - immersing you into an experience rarely achieved these days. Sit back in awe as you witness re-enactments of the stripped-back hugely original way in which films were made, not to mention a general appreciation of the joy cinema can bring to individuals, generation after generation. If that does not supply you with joy, it is a struggle to think what will. Because through Hugo, Martin Scorsese has not only crafted a product suitable to everybody everywhere, but – and whisper this - he might just have crafted his masterpiece. Well... another addition to the filmography that can be mentioned alongside the others at the top of this review anyway.

5/5

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The Help

2011, 12, Directed by Tate Taylor
Starring: Emma Stone, Viola Davis, Bryce Dallas Howard, Octavia Spencer

America’s sleeper hit of 2011, The Help is an adaptation of Kathryn Stockett’s novel in which an innocently vivacious young white female bravely decides to write a book during the civil rights era from the perspective of ‘the help’ - black maids who are subjected to racism by the families they work for. An ensemble piece, this oddly charming film stars Emma Stone as journalist Skeeter, who witnesses the racism for the cruelty that it is. Silently making a stand, she berates the women she should be friends with. These include Hilly Holbrook (Bryce Dallas Howard), truly villainous in a role that will have every viewer wishing they could step into the screen to give her a piece of their mind – a sign of a great performance. The equally as brave two black maids who lead the revolution as it were, are played by Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer, both emanating a sense of chemistry vital to indicate the us-and-them nature the ignorant housewives all create. Both are as good as the other, yet for contrasting reasons. Spencer’s Minnie is a naughty, bubbly, hilarious creation that is crowdpleasing on all kinds of levels. Davis provides a quiet tenderness in Aibileen Clark, respected by all who know her for who she really is. She is the heart of the film (her relationship with the daughter of the woman she works for will bring a smile to the face, and inadvertently tears to the eyes), and arguably has the most work to do emotional-lifting wise. She succeeds. Mention must also be thrown Jessica Chastain’s way, who brings humanity to Celia Foote, a neighbour ostracised by the females of the town, in what could have been flimsily performed by most others; obviously being in everything never hindered her performance here.

For all of its good nature, The Help does have flaws. Although the film has a lot going for it, there is a one-dimensional feel in what it is striving to achieve. The concept that a young aspiring journalist was the catalyst for something so huge is a nice thought, but seems contrived despite the lengthy running time. Aibileen and Minnie are independent figures, so it needed to be ensured this is what they remain throughout. The glossy sun-spilling cinematography glitzes over some scenes which could have done with darker undertones – but squabbles aside, it means the film is beautiful to look at.

All in all, no help required to watch this one. Enjoyable, if overlong.

3/5

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Shame

2011, 18, Directed by Steve McQueen
Starring: Michael Fassbender, Carey Mulligan, James Badge Dale, Nicole Beharie

Re-teaming with Steve McQueen, his director of Hunger, Michael Fassbender delivers a searing performance that will place him on a pedestal with the best of them. He plays New York dwelling Brandon, a regular guy to the naked eye, but suffers on the inside from an addiction to sex. Sitting on a tube, he catches the eye contact of a female passenger who notices and responds to the glance with a coy smile. Brandon resumes the gaze in the same stance throughout this unspoken interaction, fuelled by sexual desire and nothing more. As the female passenger becomes awkward, Brandon’s desire turns to need. Maybe it’s this requirement that propels him to pursue her as she flees the train at her stop – but one thing is for sure: it is not the thrill of the chase -Brandon needs sex, and it is this locked-away thought that weighs him down.

Harsher truths come to surface with the introduction of Brandon’s sister Sissy, a vivacious yet extremely conflicted lost soul who disrupts Brandon’s everyday routine. Carey Mulligan plays her, offering something different to anything she has offered before. Her character could have grated in lesser hands, much like she does on her disinterested brother, but Mulligan balances her wittier side with her more affected one in an impressive way. It could be that she is overlooked by most due to smaller screen time, trumped by Fassbender’s towering powerhouse, but without her energetic streak, Shame could have been the bleakest of black holes. The intensity of events overwhelm, especially as the film reaches its dramatic climax, much assisted by the several facets Fassbender - unfairly robbed of an Oscar nomination - brings to Brandon. He’s so set in his antics that he cons himself into believing there is nothing wrong with his lifestyle – a thought that could possibly drift into the viewer’s head countless times. It is this suppression that plants this intensity, yet as the suppression lifts, the tension only grows. McQueen, from a script by himself and Abi Morgan, classily directs from afar. Sustained shots, recurring shots, visceral shots – these are all thrown the way of the audience. In a standout elongated scene where Mulligan sings New York, New York in a dimly-lit bar, the camera flits from close-ups of her face to Brandon’s, emotions he never knew had flowing from him. This showcases the talent of all involved in Shame. Here is a film that could never have taken an easy way out to get across what it wanted to say. The film, a character study with a serious focal point, needed the collaboration between McQueen, Fassbender and Mulligan to work on the level that it does. Deeply affecting filmmaking that – for a film about sex – proves quite unsexy.

4.5/5



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The Ides of March

2011, 15, Directed by George Clooney
Starring: Ryan Gosling, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Evan Rachel Wood, George Clooney

After directorial efforts like Confessions of a Dangerous Mind and Good Night, and Good Luck, it’s crystal clear that George Clooney is more than capable of constructing a frame as he is filling one. With his latest, The Ides of March, he has made a savvy (and recurring) decision by handing main credit to a top-of-his-game star – step forward Ryan Gosling – in a film that tracks a presidential campaign as much as it tracks corruption, greed and temptation. Of course, the candidate himself, Governor Mike Morris, is played by Clooney - but he does well to pry the focus from the character all eyes are on and onto Gosling’s campaigner Stephen Myers, a young duckling who appears to be effortlessly swimming the depths of the massive pool of politics. But combine Paul Giamatti’s trouble-making rival campaigner with Evan Rachel Wood’s young intern embroiling herself into the increasingly endangered race and Myers realises that to swim these depths, some evolving might have to occur.

Character’s personalities and their allegiances shift to the point of predictability, but somehow The Ides of March remains an extremely thrilling ride. With every scene comes a new plot twist that succeeds in changing the tone the film exudes and this is largely thanks to Steven Zaillian’s script. Clooney’s presence as director is felt but almost underpinned by the film’s events – which is maybe his point: with the gold-dust cast he has on his hands, why would highlight be placed on directorial flourishes?  Ides may prove too by-the-numbers for some viewers, but thanks to a particular scene where Philip Seymour Hoffman enticingly rants to Gosling about loyalty or Marisa Tomei’s spineless reporter claws for some scoop, the whole affair is elevated. George Clooney has provided yet another enjoyable, watchable and thrilling feature.

4/5

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Melancholia

2011, 15, Directed by Lars Von Trier
Starring: Kirsten Dunst, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Kiefer Sutherland, Alexander Skarsgard

If there’s one thing that will spring to mind when Danish director Lars Von Trier is mentioned, it will most probably be his silly remarks that got him thrown out of Cannes Film Festival; as if we didn’t know already, it turns out the bloke is as controversial and conversation-inducing as the films he crafts. Looking past this - and towards Melancholia, the film he was promoting at the time – and there should be no doubt in the mind that this same bloke is something else entirely. Beginning paradoxically with the end of the world (shown using obscure, chilling, yet beautiful images in extreme slow-motion) the film is split into two halves, both of which focus on two sisters. The first is Kirsten Dunst’s Justine, a not-too blushing bride who would much rather have a soak in the bath then cut the cake by the side of her groom. Von Trier does his best at merging family drama with social comedy, which all in all creates a crazily uneasy feeling. We track Justine constantly, all smiles in front of her guests and pure emotion behind closed doors. Snippets of dialogue enlighten us to a history of unpredictable behaviour from Justine who seems to be seen, but rarely heard despite her best efforts. As an audience, the entire half of the film could become an extremely alienating experience – let it be said that Justine could be construed as an ignorant livewire, but somehow Dunst grounds things, providing a form of perspective. The fact that this is just the precursor to her later appearance in the second half of the film speaks volumes, especially when considering she took home the Best Actress prize at the Festival where her director caused such furore.

This part of the film is dedicated to Claire played by Charlotte Gainsbourg, who can only now be described as a Lars stalwart after that performance in Antichrist. Taking place after an undisclosed amount of time since the wedding, we bear witness to the changes that have occurred – perhaps most importantly the announcement of Melancholia, a newly-discovered planet which is rumoured to be heading directly for earth. A bizarre concept, but one that is tackled head on by all involved upholding rationality until the intentionally predictable climax; Kiefer Sutherland’s scientist husband  is convinced the planet is simply going to pass by, viewing the entire debacle as a ground-breaking experience. But an unspoken worry looms. Retrospectively, there is some difficulty when attempting to highlight what Von Trier is exactly commenting on - if whether Melancholia has a deeper symbolism (the auteur conceived the idea during a spell of depression, an idea relevant to the film).  But as the film reaches its inevitable endpoint, if you are still trying to piece together what you think is going on, it’s fearful you may have missed the mark completely. This is science fiction with technicalities ignored. It doesn’t matter why the world is coming to an end, it just matters that it will come to an end.  

Love it or hate it (it will either be one or the other), prepare to marvel at the wonderment Von Trier has achieved. Even if a non-converted, it will undoubtedly be a struggle not to become impressed with what has been achieved on a visual and humane level. Just don’t search for anything too subliminal.

4.5/5

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Kill List

2011, 18, Directed by Ben Wheatley
Starring: Neil Maskell, Harry Simpson, MyAnna Buring, Emma Fryer

If there’s one thing that you should know about Kill List, it’s that knowing as little as possible is key. What can be said is that on the surface we follow two soldiers-turned-hitmen (Neil Maskell and Harry Simpson: both fantastic) who are handed a ‘kill list’, and so embark on one last job before turning clean. On the surface. For what this inventive British shocker actually is dissolves into an extreme workshop in genre-weaving. What you think you know, you basically don’t. Here, Ben Wheatley - director of the equally manipulative Down Terrace - issues a master-class in how to trick the watchful eyes of the audience, and ultimately how to gut-punch. It goes without saying that gruesome violence abounds (you’ll never view a hammer in the same way), but for all the viewers who can’t stand the sight of gore, through paying attention to the cleverly deployed narrative, it will be hard not to be impressed. The rational manner that Wheatley depicts life for Jay and Sam, not ignoring the equally as important wife of Jay (MyAnna Buring) and random girlfriend of Sean (Emma Fryer), ensures that later events prove that bit more disturbing and uneasy to view, not to mention captivating and inspiring - much like the films this homages (to even whisper these films would give the game away). Avoid Google and watch with immediacy; Kill List should earn a placement on your must-see list.

4/5

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