Cast: Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham-Carter, Alan Rickman, Timothy Spall, Sacha Baron Cohen

Director: Tim Burton

Screenplay: John Logan

Running time: 1 hr 57 mins

Genre: Musical/Drama/Horror


REVIEW:


By the mention of horror musicals, it is as intimidating as it is somewhat disastrous. Let’s take a look at the recent cinematic revival of THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA by director Joel Schumacher: only Gerard Butler’s performance was appreciable, the rest of the film was laid to bare waste. Since then, audience weren’t too friendly to this particular genre. Everyone seemed to want sunshine-struck musicals with big numbers, dazzling spectacle and dizzying colours – not dark, dank palettes, Gothic backdrops, and tragic miseries. Tim Burton must have faced that hard sentiment with mistrusting peril. But then again, it takes one to know one. For what Burton brings here in his newest, possibly his finest made musical film so far in his career, is a concoction in which Burton was born to brew for. SWEENEY TODD: THE DEMON BARBER OF FLEET STREET is not only one of the year’s longest titled film, but it is a deranged melange of a majestic masterclass, bringing music, heartbreak, vengeance, romance, drama, humour, horror, suspense, irony, wit and sarcasm to achieve that wondrous and sumptuous mixture of cinema. Yes, even more sumptuous than Mrs Lovett’s meat pies.


Be warned for one thing. This film is classed as a musical, and if you hate characters breaking into a song, then just sit down, shut your gob and prepare for the shaving-chair ride down into the dark dungeons of the human psyche. Probably most everyone knows now the cheerless tale of Sweeney Todd and his friendly razors; how he cuts his customers throats with manic glee, and sends the throat-slashed bodies down into Mrs Lovett’s stinky dungeon to compensate her lack of pork meat for her best-selling pies. But hang on, this is not smeared with all gore. Apart from the spraying of blood, there’s a touch of humanity temperately boiling at its core. Sweeney Todd is, in fact, once Benjamin Barker whose life was taken away from him, including his wife and daughter, and now back in 19th century Victorian London for some sweet, bloody vengeance.


We trust Burton when it comes to anything dark and Gothic. His Victorian London is a mirror to that post-Industrial Revolution, urbanised, slum-ridden Dickensian panorama, hence the smog, pollution and things which are ‘not very nice’. Most people in his screen look as though they never bother to bathe themselves. And he paints his palette with strong monochromatic intensity, so that when blood flows out in any scene, it appears as terrifyingly scarlet, almost beautifully viscous, shiny and elegant altogether.


However, elegance shouldn’t be present in this film, given the violent tale of the central character. Here, Burton hits the right note to settle with Johnny Depp in their sixth filmic collaboration. After all, after playing some odd bloke with scissor hands, contemptuous detective in sleepy hollows, and swaggering pirate in some uncharted Caribbean island, Depp knows by heart how to play mad, and boy does he deliver such a creatively nuanced central performance so pivotal to the Todd, a character utterly consumed by his pathos of revenge transforming him into a living, breathing blood-lusty man-monster. His pale, vampiric complexion only blends in perfect, ghastly chemistry to the brilliant Helena Bonham-Carter’s Mrs Lovett, the meat-pie cook so consumed by her own desires. Her casting might raise eyebrows as she is Burton’s real-life leading lady, but her Mrs Lovett would prove to you, with a subtle, sweeping gesture of a hand, that she’s rightfully tuned to the character. Funny, brilliant, and often poignant, she was the one that tempers Todd’s moods, that wife who yearns for a quiet life in a seaside but knows it all dwells in fantasy. Both of them on screen looked like ashen-faced, pallid vampires – but it certainly works.


There are excellent supporting performances too. The finest epitome would be Sacha Baron Cohen in his all-too-brief but genuinely wonderful turn as the pseudo-Italian barber, Pirelli. Who could expect that BORAT could actually act? He might have left his throat slashed, but his humour left an unmistakable imprint, especially in the shaving contest in the market, and his visit to Todd’s parlour, shifting his Italian accent to a fluent London one in one swift, hilarious manner. Alan Rickman, as ever, brings pitch-perfect villainy to Judge Turpin, and Timothy Spall as his sidekick is just fiery as hell.


But how could we expect such music to be sung by non-singers, vocally unchallenged actors? Fact: none of them hit a false note. Depp brings a deep, serious drawl on his vocal testament, and Bonham-Carter is wonderful in her croon. Burton, meanwhile, makes sure his musical numbers don’t fall into chore and painstakingly kept the sizzle of the story to develop, making way to a grand, satisfying, and bloody finale. As soon as the curtain falls to a close, that final scene, we know it’s not going to be a happy tale. But it’s a moralistic one. And we certainly could tell it’s an excruciatingly story to be told but it’s a story told rather well.


VERDICT:


The Burton-Depp collaboration, by now, is a thing to be anticipated quite extremely. What a wonderfully dark, ghoulish, dynamic entertainment this is. Depp and Bonham-Carter are top performers. And the blood – this is literally bloody brilliant! Surely, SWEENEY TODD would go down to history as the bloodiest musical ever put to silverscreen. All hail ye razors!


RATING: A


Note: Mr Depp has just recently won Best Actor for Musical/Comedy for his role as Sweeney Todd at Golden Globes this year. Meanwhile, he's nominated for Oscars Best Actor. Whether it's a triumph, we shall see.

Cast: Ellen Page, Jennifer Garner, Jason Bateman, Michael Cera

Director: Jason Reitman

Screenplay: Diablo Cody

Running time: 1 hr 36 mins

Genre: Indie/Comedy


REVIEW:


Every year, there’s always a film of humble origin that breaks through the lashes of blockbuster whippersnappers and emerge as an indie-darling that would have critics gushing with praises almost reaching the heavens. 2006’s luminous LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE was a faultless testament. Now this year, it’s JUNO’s turn to gain the limelight. Already nabbing the number one spot of Chicago Sun-Times’ über-critic Roger Ebert’s top ten movies of 2007, and slides effortlessly to a 93% rating in Rotten Tomatoes (and to add to the list, its spectacular nomination for Oscar Best Picture, Best Actress, Best Director and Best Original Screenplay – phew girl! What noms you got! And all for major categories!), it’s indeed a wonder for such a small film like this to eclipse big, gigantic films of epic proportions come awards season. But does JUNO really deserve the almost-divine plaudits?


For one, there’s no denying that JUNO is a charming, quirky little film shining with delight that could easily win the audience’s hearts. It’s one those indie-that-could-be, a sleeper hit, a crowd pleaser. It’s hard to tell directly from the first few minutes of the film as it starts synthetically with our smart-alecky 16-year old teenage heroine discovers that she is pregnant, uttering helplessly “the positive sign has never been so unholy”. But after it regains consciousness and the story becomes more accessible, there is a core seemingly absent from other teenage films – a heart. It’s massive and adorable; a kind of heart that you wouldn’t expect to exist in such portentously American-ish teenage flick. After being knocked-up by dorky mate Bleeker (Michael Cera) out of sexual curiosity, Juno MacGuff (Ellen Page) discovers she couldn’t face the responsibility of raising a baby into a broken, unprepared environment, after being raised in such conditions herself being abandoned by her own mother. Her father and step-mother, as modern-minded individuals as they are (probably the best parents ever in teenage film history), thwack out the melodrama of slapping and the how-dare-you scenes, and instead help her go through the pregnancy stage. She solicits a baby-free couple, Vanessa (lovely Jennifer Garner) and Mark (cool Jason Bateman), to adopt her baby. However, along the way, Juno discovers that life’s indeed a bitch; that perfect couples only exist in movies; and that the stumbles along the way gives us lessons to learn to become mature and better individuals. To all the Juno’s and Bleeker’s out there, watch this film without a hint of irreverence. You might learn something, y’know kids.


Page deserves her Oscar Best Actress nomination. As young as she is, 20 years old playing a 16-year old teenager, it’s an incredible multi-dimensional performance that will leave you empathising all of a sudden after we learn about her character. Of course, who could forget her fiery role in last year’s disturbing HARD CANDY? While she doesn’t spit out so much expletives, she does, however, elicit smart-mouthed one-liners. She’s beyond reproach a definition of a teenager with an opinion, wisecracking enough to be intelligent, and Page dissolves into the character effortlessly. By the time she shows her emotions, we learn that she’s too vulnerable after all, just being covered by her self-assurance.


Another worth mentioning would be Jennifer Garner in her most nuanced role yet, spanning her entire career. It’s such a shame that Oscars didn’t bestow the nomination for Best Supporting Actress that she deserves. Her role as Vanessa, this woman with an air of professionalism desperate to be a mother and chilly enough to be intimidating, has an amazing depth, a character arc so brilliantly pulled off. That scene in the mall where Vanessa feels the kick of the baby on Juno’s tummy is where Garner shines the brightest. It’s a quiet, glowing moment that Garner seems so genuine in her intent. Bateman as the reluctant husband/father is good as well, giving his role some seriousness when he suddenly sees all his dreams and frustration in Juno.


Meanwhile, on the dark side, it’s just amusing to know that in JUNO’s posters in cinema has a “hilarious film you’ll ever see this year!” written all over them. Let’s clarify one thing: it’s not laugh-out-loud hilarious as what you would expect. I had laughed more in ENCHANTED than I ever laughed in this one. Don’t take this wrong, JUNO is a really good film, but it’s just criminally overrated. And over-nominated too. Technically, there are other superior films out there this year. I concede to agree with the Best Actress nom for Page and Best Original Screenplay nom for Diablo Cody for his witty script – but Best Picture and Best Director? C’mon Academy! This is a pretty impressive sophomore directing effort from Jason Reitman, but to think about ATONEMENT’s Joe Wright not being nominated? I could try to imagine JUNO being Best Picture – no, I couldn’t imagine. It’s not the template Oscars is traditionally vying for. Unless of course, if they become morons.


VERDICT:


Calling this the year’s best is not a fair judgment on the year that was. Yes, JUNO has the smart-alecky script and a story to admire for – but this is certainly effervesced by the gleaming performance of one girl named Ellen Page, and a wonderful supporting act by Jennifer Garner. ‘Tis should not be called this year’s LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE, as the latter is a far superior film than this.



RATING: B+

Cast: Milla Jovovich, Ali Larter, Oded Fehr

Director: Russell Mulcahy

Screenplay: Paul W S Anderson

Running time: 1 hr 35 mins

Genre: Action


REVIEW:


Like any other threequel, it’s pretentious, lacklustre, and dumbed down to plot-holes, squeezing what’s left of the juice. And like its undead creatures, RESIDENT EVIL: EXTINCTION might as well walk the road to hell and nobody would care it ever exist. If you want to watch an ultra-powered Milla Jovovich in straps and leathers kicking zombified-arses, it will be a cheery Friday night, just remember to leave your brains at your door or you might find your eyebrows start flying away from your forehead due to wild, extreme disbelief.


The third (and hopefully the last) instalment in the video-game adaptation franchise has a massive hole at its epicentre: its plot. It’s almost a spooky thought, like any movie of the zombie genre, it tackles end-of-world, Apocalypse-like panorama, and almost all of the world’s population were turned into George Romero’s human-lusty creatures of the night, and in this case, also of the day. At least it could be proud of its T-virus infected zombies, compared to I AM LEGEND’s laughably CG-fied “dark seekers”, but wiping out the whole of the Earth, drying up everything including rivers and streams and lakes and everything watery into vast barren wastelands because of one virus so-called “T”. If this is not the prototype of exaggerated cinema-making, then I don’t know where I’ve left my brain for the past few hours. How in the hell could the whole world turn into deserts because of a virus infection? And why would any other part of the planet would look like Las Vegas? Why are the roads not covered with sand? And why does Japan still look like Japan at the end when at the start, we’re informed about “barren landscape”? Some films are truly thought-provoking, thank you very much.


Good fights are still present and set pieces are sprawling, but tedious storytelling is rolling like sandstorm. From the first reel, as we hear Jovovich’s narration (sounding as though she’s narrating a high-school stage play with glee), to the less conceived underground laboratory in the desert (reducing camera shots to digitalised screening, where’s the budget?), to the rip-off from Hitchcock’s THE BIRDS (except that they’re zombie ravens), and to the most utterly ridiculous, Alice transforming into a psycho-kinetic super-human heroine who could control forces around her. I mean – whoah! I just wish I could modify my genes, mate! Kudos to model-actress Milla Jovovich and Ali Larter (pretty gal from HEROES) for bringing edgy girl-to-girl hotness power on the film, but they’ll just have to try harder.


VERDICT:


Third time turns out to be no charm at all. Enough with silly, money-cashing attempts, you cows! This dare proves that RESIDENT EVIL: EXTINCTION might well be extinct after all, although this one doesn’t need saving.



RATING: C

No, what you're reading is not another THE DARK KNIGHT odd-campaign or a stunt ploy. This is true and confirmed: Heath Ledger, one of Hollywood's premiere actors, was found dead at his Manhattan flat at the young age of 28.


When I first heard about this news, I didn't believe it. When I opened my Hotmail homepage this morning, I didn't believe it as well, but it led me buzzing to check The Times website, and it was there, full front cover. I still can't believe it. It's The Times, for Chrissake! The Times! This is such a sad tragic tale. I know this bloke's not my relative, but for a person like me who cares about the movie industry, I am disturbed, saddened and gobsmacked by this shocking news. He was found in his flat, lying face down at the foot of his bed, unresponsive. There were also sleeping pills found in his room, Diazepam and Alprazolam, both anti-anxiety drugs prescribed in his name. There was no reason for foulplay, and may be a "possible overdose" of the prescribed pills. Heath Ledger once mentioned in his interview that he's been suffering lack of sleep, after being disturbed by own his portrayal of The Joker in 2008's upcoming THE DARK KNIGHT, the Batman sequel.

A brilliant actor like Heath Ledger, a star uncorrupted by the sparkle of fame and the shindig of Hollywood, who gave us one of the finest performances by an actor in the recent years in his memorable character Ennis Del Mar in BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN (which could have won him an Oscar, if not for Philip Seymour Hoffman in CAPOTE), will imprint his memory in the world. He is unarguably one of Hollywood's finest, that "it" actor with such a great future written all over him. But now, it's all over. He rose to fame in 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU, played as Mel Gibson's son in THE PATRIOT, and broke superstardom in A KNIGHT'S TALE. But his most memorable and critically-acclaimed was in Ang Lee's BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN. He appeared in many films, most recently, I've just seen him portraying one of Bob Dylan's alter-ego in I'M NOT THERE, and his characterisation of man struggling with the loss of his wife relflects so disturbingly to his own life as he was just recently separated with his own wife, Michelle Williams, whom he had a kid with. Now, I'm probably one of the millions of people awaiting for this summer's THE DARK KNIGHT as Ledger plays the mass-murdering psycopathic clown The Joker, in the hope that this will be possibly Ledger's most defining role in his final bow with an iconic character.

You will be missed in the screen, after the impact you made to the movie industry and to the film-goers. May you rest in peace, Mr Ledger.

Cast: Julie Christie, Gordon Pinsent, Olympia Dukakis

Director: Sarah Polley

Screenplay: Sarah Polley

Running time: 1 hour 50 mins

Genre: Drama/Romance


REVIEW:



Alzheimer-disease stories are hard to come by. But when they do, everything becomes melodramatic. They are tales that serves as magnets to tragic romance, teary-eyed contemplation, and souls that struggle with the fading of memories and feelings. The last surviving example was the brilliant THE NOTEBOOK. Now, with AWAY FROM HER, it was set to become the best Alzheimer-cum-love-story of them all – or is it?


First, let’s face the facts. This directorial debut from indie actress Sarah Polley is pretty impressive. Instead of tracking the trail to Hollywood superstardom, she opts for lesser, less-lit indie projects with pride and dignity. And this film is a stunning testament that she can hold her own limelight, with deft skill behind the camera, knowing that she’s only 28 and she’s got a long way to go indeed. But here, that skill is shown, not only in her palette (a sprawling landscape of wintry scenery, with scenes literally bathed in broad, white, almost-blinding daylight) but she never loses sight of her characters beyond the blizzard of snow, giving them space to sparkle with such lustre.


Now, the story. This is about a couple who hasn’t been separated for 45 years, only until wife Fiona (Julie Christie) suffers from Alzheimer’s and decided to check into a nursing home, leaving husband Grant (Gordon Pinsent) to face life alone, memories melting along the wintry wind. For this type of drama, it almost a perfect setting to get depressed, feeling heavy and bursting-to-tears all of a sudden, as the tale of this couple unfolds in the screen. Fiona gives her husband a space for him not to suffer her illness, while Grant suffers only more when she’s not there with him. It’s a thoughtful film, a kind of tale that will have you contemplating about your own sake in the future by the time your brain cells starts getting fed up with you, and its result to the people around you. By far, it’s an ethical exploration to disastrous effects of Alzheimer’s.


Finally, the performances. By the love of God, Julie Christie deserved her Golden Globe Best Actress nod. For a 66-year old actress, she can still shine like a sparkling diamond even in the whiteness of the landscape. Her portrayal of this woman losing grip is almost effortless, utterly convincing, although some of her scenes involve her staring into oblivion. Gordon Pinsent as the husband is equally compelling too, with a gruff, dishevelled look as though anger on life sizzles quietly yet at the same time, a hint of resignation on his face can be traced; a tired individual who feels hopeless beyond repair. One poignant scene was when he was sitting in the corner, looking blankly into the room filled with visiting people, then it all blends slowly, showing people leaving their loved ones, the patients left virtually alone by themselves.


VERDICT:


AWAY FROM HER is too sombre and often heavy-lidded to watch, so be warned. While Julie Christie gives a heartbreaking performance, and Sarah Polley offers an impressive directorial debut, it is bathed in dignity and emotion, gladly not resulting to melodrama.



RATING: B+



So rarely has there been a book written with such an elegant prose yet at the same time tells a great story that’s sweeping enough to gratify your senses. It’s a panache most novelist of contemporary existence struggle to capture in words. Classics now are hard to come by – but when they do, they shine like a burning ember in a place void of any literary light. ATONEMENT is that ember. It glows in its sheer lyrical power, it burns in its intense emotions, and sparks like a wildfire of storytelling. Writing has found its utmost near-finest form in this one great epitome of a modern classic novel most novelist write to die for, or die to write for.


ATONEMENT was that book that most people had propped up copies in front of their faces in the tube or any train journey circa 2005. I’ve never seen one because I wasn’t in London still by that time, but even two years later, as I have noticed, it was incredible to see people still reading it. I was one of the desperate many who tried to get past scuttling throughout the pages.


However, I didn’t scuttle through it. I moved slowly, benevolently through every single page, almost literally swallowing every word of it. It’s not a novel to read swiftly; it’s a novel that needs grace and patience. Ian McEwan, now considered as one of the finest living-and-breathing British novelist, has put into paper something that most novels desire to achieve: a status of elegance. His prose, when read, ring in the air like a gentle tingle of a glass, a soft whisper of a wind passing and most often like a lyrical anthem bathed in beautifully used words.


It only lies useful when the writer tells a story about love, of tragedy, redemption, and loss. It’s a perfect setting: two Tallis sisters frolicking around their manorial house, one by the name of Briony setting up a stageplay for her debut as a self-pronounced playwright, and the other older one, Cecilia, a tormented soul wanting to break free from the confines of countryside yet at the same time confused with her own choice. This all comes to a point with one man. His name is Robbie. And when one child witness something she had never seen before, judgment becomes as dangerous as knives. One contortion of truth comes between two lovers that would result to their lives spent in separation during the World War I, as the girl grows up and suffering with the guilt and conscience. She spends a lifetime instead of finding peace and making atonement.


Of course, a novel as great as this, rarely as well that it doesn’t get spotted under Hollywood’s keen eyes. Now an acclaimed film, considered one of 2007’s best (and also personally considered as actually 2007’s finest with Joe Wright’s impeccable direction), this is one of those stories that’s best to be left unscathed by screenplay scalpels, with such a flow of description and narrative that’s almost too difficult to capture in motion picture, unless of course if an all-too brilliant filmmaker who’s visionary enough dares to take the challenge. The film succeeds, as we know, and it genuinely transfers the book’s imagery to the screen, almost as beautiful, almost as fragile.


I’ve never read such an adult novel for such a long time now, ever since Bernhard Schlink’s engrossing THE READER. Or probably I haven’t been reading too much. ATONEMENT possesses maturity that it holds its chin high, not in boastfulness, but with dignity. And only the ones who have read it will experience its narrative power. For those who haven’t, it’s not too late to get hold of a copy now, read it with pleasure, and read it with carefulness – advise you to read it with nothing to do at all, just a time for liberty in a silent corner of your house or in the garden. The power works here at its best.


VERDICT:


Unarguably one of the finest British novels of contemporary age. A classic read as it is unfathomably beautiful. Ian McEwan has crafted his masterpiece indeed.


RATING: A+

Cast: Amy Adams, Patrick Dempsey, John Marsden, Susan Sarandon, Timothy Spall

Director: Kevin Lima

Screenplay: Bill Kelly

Running time: 1 hr 47 mins

Genre: Comedy/Musical/Animation/Children


REVIEW:


For the first time in donkey’s years, well, ever since it released its first legendary feature that was SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARVES, Disney contradicted itself quite amusingly. By this feature ENCHANTED, which starts with the long-lost world of hand-drawn animation and thrusts the main characters into the real, breathing universe of humans in the inhumanly New York City, where fairy-tales don’t exist and happy endings are for the mentally-disassociated ones, there’s a massive, good dose of cynicism that could come walloping all the mushy fairy-tale movies. It’s astonishing that Disney delivered it themselves, out of humour, heartbreak, a damsel in distress, a prince to the rescue and the traditional Disney hotchpotch – there’s sarcasm, wit and ironic feel that makes this a bewitching film to watch, not because we know it’s going to end in a happy tune anyway, but the journey of the damsel in the middle, in which she could be slapped around the face ruthlessly with the harsh realities of life.


It’s a silly concept: a heroine by the name of Giselle (Amy Adams), an addition to the long list of Jasmine’s, Ariel’s, Belle’s and so on, like any other princesses is a hopeless romantic optimist, an unblinking believer of happy endings. We’re given one of that straight away before the first 10 minutes of the film has rolled out, as she’s saved by the prince and they trundle along with the horse literally into the sun and the clouds (trumpets and orchestra ensues). Not for long, she’s thrown into a well before her wedding happens and emerges on a manhole, right at the middle of Times Square. Here, the fish-out-of-water plot inevitably follows. Yes, it’s definitely silly indeed, but it works and it’s effective enough to keep the charm intact and our mouths hanging in some priceless laughs.


There are scenes worth keeping your bum seated, such as the hilarious calling-the-animals of the city to assist in cleaning the apartment (there has never been a scene like this that’s an entire gross out since RATATOUILLE, now with added roaches and unkempt pigeons), the musical break-out in Central Park (kudos to Disney’s legend himself, Alan Menken, the musical genius behind most of Disney’s greats) and Giselle’s overreaction to divorce is enjoyable to watch. Fans of the Disney encyclopaedia will surely notice a roll-call of tributes: Giselle’s house in the forest is from TARZAN, LITTLE MERMAID’s theme “Part of that World” is played at the background when the aquarium was shown, Robert’s costume was designed after Beast in BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, the apple for SNOW WHITE, the glass slippers for CINDERELLA, and a whole lotta more.


However, it’s the film’s main performance that gives this an unflinching exuberance by the name of Amy Adams. She – is – just – fantastic. Her adorable, human-counterpart of a cartoon heroine is a marvel to witness, bringing all the movements as though being swooned all the time, the chipper, the trill, and the melodious voice. Her batting of eyelashes is as normal as the hitches of her breathing every time “forever” is mentioned in the air. After being nominated for Oscar Best Actress for her role in JUNEBUG last year, it’s no surprise she could make it up for award shorlists. She reminds us of a more youthful Nicole Kidman, with talent and grace and charm intertwined altogether like a cute mush-up of ribbons. James Marsden, on the other note, is as almost equally convincing as the prince in pursuit of love, calling locals “peasants” and in human world, a narcissist in tights. Susan Sarandon barely gets a look-in of the character, as other villainy step-mothers do. Patrick Dempsey, the single-dad lawyer, whose heart was struck by Giselle’s naivety, gives the film a realistic resonance that fairy tales are for un-divorced people and life is never awarded with happy endings all the time.


Then it’s time to be doused by a bucket of cold water that after all, it’s a Disney flick, where predictability is a stalwart tradition difficult to fracture. Happy endings happen all the time in that world, so why don’t we all go out and multiply in Disneyland?!


VERDICT:


Campy fun and endearing silliness, the paradox of Disney is cleverly laid out in one mesh of enjoyable entertainment. ENCHANTED is that Disney film as Disney could ever be. All hurrah cheers to Amy Adams for the sheer energy that’s worth a thousand bottles of Lucozade – and for putting a big smile on my face that only a few films ever achieved this year.


RATING: B+


Cast: Christian Bale, Cate Blanchett, Heath Ledger, Marcus Carl Franklin, Ben Wishaw, Richard Gere, Julianne Moore, Michelle Williams

Director: Todd Haynes

Screenplay: Todd Haynes

Running time: 2 hrs 16 mins

Genre: Biopic/Drama


REVIEW:


In a typical Hollywood music-biopic, it’s as common as a universally accepted truth that it features a troubled artist, plucking their strings (ehem, Johnny Cash) or prodding their piano keys (cough, Ray), whilst hopelessly buried in drugs and booze, and in a miraculous stint, it all ends with a gloriously uplifting recovery spell. Todd Haynes thought better. Almost an experimental stunt that could probably result to an embarrassing act, he chose not just one but six actors to portray the convoluted portrait of American folk-hero Bob Dylan. Not to mention, the involvement of an Aussie actress to play one of the personas of the subject. Now, we haven’t heard of this thing before, but as soon as it’s been canned and shown, not only does Bob Dylan himself bestow his mighty approval – but the result is nothing short of an enigmatic wonder. I’M NOT THERE, along with its peculiar hell of a title with people squawking about its main point, distances itself from the humdrum formula of everyday biopic. Here is a rare film of ingenuity, blending pictures, montages, bizarre plotting, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it scenes, riffs, cuts, sounds and a whole lotta more like an amalgamation of a collage, part jigsaw puzzle that when it’s all put up together gives us a portrait of an accomplished persona, the man himself, Dylan.


We start with the intriguing presence of Marcus Carl Franklin, whose character was adeptly named Woody Guthrie, lifted from Dylan’s folk-singer idol. It’s a notable performance from this kid; however, it seethes questions as to why it’s played by a black actor. People who didn’t know Dylan’s music burns with this riddle, but it is his representation of the cultural issues amongst the black that is clearly embodied here. Next, we jig into the psyche of Christian Bale as folk-singer-turned-preacher Jack Rollins, whose part is played in a mockumentary that’s almost as effective that one wouldn’t expect it in a film as this. Then there’s Ben Wishaw spilling out poetic philosophies in monochromatic interviews, appropriately named as Arthur Rimbaud, Dylan’s favourite poet. It’s an eminent thing to hear the words out of this mouth: “Everything is caused by nature... but I am against nature.”


Biopics never get as confusing as this, as the story goes on with Heath Ledger as Robbie Clark, an actor whose marriage was hanging by a thread, reverberating Dylan’s uneasy relationships. Then there’s Richard Gere, perhaps the most innocuous and insignificant performance in the film, playing Billy the Kid, echoing Dylan’s appearance in Sam Peckinpah’s Pat Garret And Billy The Kid.


The performances are truly remarkable, with Bale ever so consistent in his career choices, Ledger shredding his gruff and surfacing a vulnerably human Dylan, Franklin, with an illustrious cinematic appeal, giving one of this year’s best kid acting next to ATONEMENT’s Briony Tallis by Saoirse Ronan, but it’s Cate Blanchett that steals all the limelight away from them. It is indeed an off-the-wall irony that the best caricature of the folk-singer Dylan as a man is played by no one else but a woman. Blanchett, here, is set to recreate the records and point to that podium of greatness by this electrifying performance that’s as nearly as legendary as Dylan himself, defying the gravity of the art of acting, as though she’s pushing the walls and limits of performing abilities. Damn, this woman. Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned indeed. She pitch-perfectly personified the mentality of Dylan, as he turned from acoustic-delivering messiah to rock-and-roll electronica romp, spitting lyrics of cynicism, resulting to the years of disappointment of fans. For people questioning if Blanchett is too effeminate to portray Dylan, they should be asking themselves instead, for Blanchett represents the skinny, almost androgynous physicality of the singer himself uncannily in his misunderstood, rock years. Having won the Golden Globes Best Supporting Actress for this proves enough that it’s a certainty for a more prestigious one, come Oscar time.


It is also this film’s style that proves creative. Blanchett’s period is shot in black-and-white (a jackpot decision to intensify Blanchett’s ruggedness with her boyish couldn’t-care swagger and blank looks on the screen as though she was constantly asking us in silence “Do you understand me? I think not.”), Franklin and Gere’s parts were in rich, countryside colours, Bale in his documentary-like montages, and Wishaw in a radical monochrome.


If you’re expecting for answers about Bob Dylan, or expecting a vertically told tale, then you’re in for a disappointment. What you are about to see is like a boomerang, things are thrown into the air without so much explanation, and it comes back to you with questions still left unanswered. After all, this is Bob Dylan we’re talking about, a man too complex a character that it has to be played by different people to combine into the concluding persona. It’s one of those difficult films to sink in with, and some people might suffer for its longeur. However, if you’d appreciate a film that is truly unique, peerless and cerebrally provoking, with added touches of silly humour, poetic justice, heartbreak and humanity, this is a film worth drifting into, leaving us the dazzle of Dylan’s enigmatic complexity as soon as the real person is shown at the fading end of the film.


VERDICT:


I’M NOT THERE is a one hell of a film fan’s film. It’s irritating, complicated, mystifying... after all, it’s the man himself that defines this film. An artistic, creative portrait of a multi-persona, experimentally brilliant as it is wonderfully deep. One of the year’s best artistic pursuits. It’s what Picasso had done to Guernica as to what Todd Haynes created in this work of art.



RATING: A-


Cast: Khalid Abdalla, Homayon Ershadi, Ahmad Khan Mahmidzada, Zekeria Ebrahimi

Director: Marc Foster

Running time: 2 hrs 8 mins

Genre: Drama/Adaptation


REVIEW:

Ever since Bush landed blows on the Middle East, Hollywood has been unhesitatingly pouring greenlight on films that could mirror the grim condition. And since then, stories that involve racial issues are hot-buttons of award races. However, THE KITE RUNNER, based on the globally-loved novel of Khaled Hosseini of the same name, isn’t about different races clashing with each other. Set against the backdrop of the troubled nation of Afghanistan, here is a story about a contradiction of a race with its own: an Afghan man, whom as a child had committed an act of cowardice, forced to face the ghosts of his guilt from turning down his best friend of his own blood – if you read between the lines, this doesn’t say America sending missiles, or militants killing each other. It’s a one-man odyssey in understanding the pathos of his own race, while trying to face his own country’s misery by proving that “there’s still a way to be good again.”

The film begins on a formulaic setting, on a sad note: novelist Amir (Khalid Abdalla) looks longingly at his finished novel circa 2000, San Francisco, and he receives a call from his home country that tells him he should go back.

Expectedly, this was the movie’s method to start telling the story by plunging back into the past and showing us the events that explains “why”. Albeit used effectively, it’s probably used a thousand times before.

It was Kabul, 1978, and young Amir (Zekeria Ebrahimi), born to a rich businessman, and best friend Hassan (Ahmad Khan Mahmidzada), a lower-class “Hazara” Afghan of the same race but of a different tribe, are kite-flying prodigies; the latter, superior in skill, triumphs in kite-duelling, while the former sulks in the shadow of his friend. Amir is interested in stories and books, while his own father is telling him to have more “spine” like his best friend. In the film’s best part, this is a type of childhood told in a way of sheer, vivid imagery. The kite-flying scenes are as gripping, as fantastic as its CGI-assisted kites, also showing us the art of flying kites, with children moving on rooftops as though they were dancing in a rhythm. Freedom could be inhaled in the air, and seen through the soaring of kites – but it all ends in a devastating gloom as Hassan is raped by a hooligan, all witnessed by Amir yet couldn’t gather his courage to stop it.

It was a happening that was set to change the rest of their lives.

There are many conflicts in the film, but they are too neatly tucked away into a corner and instead show in the surface the boiling story of loyalty, friendship, family, and well, atonement, to redeem what was lost and what was wrongly done in the past. Amir, as an adult, goes back to his torn country by Afghan rebels, the country he considered home before, to save one child that was Hassan’s son. The ethical message of this film glows like a burning torch in darkness.

Heavy as it is, it tackles subject matters that could be very delicate to handle, but Marc Foster, after his glorious pieces of FINDING NEVERLAND, MONSTER’S BALL, and STRANGER THAN FICTION, holds THE KITE RUNNER with strong threads. His visceral landscape photography captures Afghanistan in a haunting echo, and although he irons the complexity of the tale in neat folds, it doesn’t wander away from its focus subjects. It even shows an excellent, honest, pivotal scene in a football stadium where a couple was stoned to death – one scene that was courageous enough to be shown. One good move was its casting, as this film is powered by terrific, unknown actors. This time, the kids’ performances by Ebrahimi and Mahmidzada are exceptionally convincing, but thanks to Abdalla as he holds Amir with dignity and justice.

VERDICT:

Literally soaked-up with melodrama and all-too-idealistic portrait of a redeeming central character, THE KITE RUNNER bathes in an intention of goodness. Yet it’s also a moving story of humanity, heart-aching and convincing. This film, in its entirety, might not have soared but it’s the performances that take flight.


RATING: A-

One major backlash of the Writers' Guild strike in the Stateside: a less-fabulous, schmaltz-free Golden Globe 2007 Award Ceremony. No red carpet, no uber-fashion glamorousness, no over the top "teary-eyed" acceptance speeches - just straightforward announcement, as though the award giving body would simply like to throw some throphies, push the winners home, and get it done with. Now, the winners have emerged, as the season for awards is finally now in the threshold of our time. Oscars may be a month away, but certainly Golden Globes COULD predict the real winner. But then again, most of the time, Oscars has an elitist mind and usually they ignore Golden Globes results as though it's filth.

At exultation, I am so pleased ATONEMENT won Best Motion Picture Drama, and SWEENEY TODD as Best Motion Picture Musical (although I haven't seen this one yet, but I am still happy about it). A tad sad because Angelina Jolie didn't get what she deserved in A MIGHTY HEART, and instead, the Best Actress statuette went to Julie Christie in her performance in Canadian tearjerker AWAY FROM HER. Listen AMPAS, you better give Jolie that award. Johnny Depp, too, seems to be in nirvana finally as he grabbed BEST ACTOR MUSICAL. Best Director, Julian Schnabel? What about Joe Wright?!

And so much of me blabbering here. Here's the results, with winners in RED:










BEST MOTION PICTURE – DRAMA
AMERICAN GANGSTER
ATONEMENT
EASTERN PROMISES
THE GREAT DEBATERS
MICHAEL CLAYTON
NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN
THERE WILL BE BLOOD


BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS IN A MOTION PICTURE – DRAMA
Cate Blanchett – ELIZABETH : THE GOLDEN AGE
Julie Christie – AWAY FROM HER
Jodie Foster – THE BRAVE ONE
Angelina Jolie – A MIGHTY HEART
Keira Knightley – ATONEMENT


BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR IN A MOTION PICTURE – DRAMA
George Clooney – MICHAEL CLAYTON
Daniel Day Lewis – THERE WILL BE BLOOD
James McAvoy – ATONEMENT
Viggo Mortensen – EASTERN PROMISES
Denzel Washington – AMERICAN GANGSTER


BEST MOTION PICTURE – COMEDY OR MUSICAL
ACROSS THE UNIVERSE
CHARLIE WILSON'S WAR
HAIRSPRAY
JUNO
SWEENEY TODD


BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS – COMEDY OR MUSICAL
Amy Adams - ENCHANTED
Nikki Blonsky - HAIRSPRAY
Helena Bonham Carter - SWEENEY TODD
Marion Cotillard - LA VIE EN ROSE
Ellen Page - JUNO


BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR – COMEDY OR MUSICAL
Johnny Depp - SWEENEY TODD
Ryan Gosling - LARS AND THE REAL GIRL
Tom Hanks - CHARLIE WILSON
Philip Seymour Hoffman - THE SAVAGES
John Reilly - WALK HARD: THE DEWEY COX STORY


BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS IN A SUPPORTING ROLE
Cate Blanchett, I'M NOT THERE
Saoirse Ronan, ATONEMENT
Julia Roberts, CHARLIE WILSON'S WAR
Amy Ryan, GONE BABY GONE
Tilda Swinton, MICHAEL CLAYTON


BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR IN A SUPPORTING ROLE
Casey Affleck, ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES...
Javier Bardem, NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN
Philip Seymour Hoffman, CHARLIE WILSON'S WAR
John Travolta, HAIRSPRAY
Tom Wilkinson, MICHAEL CLAYTON


BEST ANIMATED FEATURE FILM
THE BEE MOVIE
THE SIMPSONS MOVIE
RATATOUILLE


BEST FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM
4 MONTHS, 3 WEEKS AND 2 DAYS
THE KITE RUNNER
THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY
LUST, CAUTION
PERSEPOLIS


BEST DIRECTOR – MOTION PICTURE
Tim Burton, SWEENEY TODD
Joel Coen & Ethan Coen, NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN
Julian Schnabel, DIVING BELL & THE BUTTERFLY
Ridley Scott, AMERICAN GANGSTER
Joe Wright, ATONEMENT


BEST SCREENPLAY – MOTION PICTURE
Diablo Cody - JUNO
Ethan Coen and Joel Coen - NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN
Christopher Hampton - ATONEMENT
Ronald Hardwood - THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY
Aaron Sorkin - CHARLIE WILSON'S WAR


BEST ORIGINAL SCORE – MOTION PICTURE
Michael Brook, Kaki King, Eddie Vedder - INTO THE WILD
Clint Eastwood - GRACE IS GONE
Alberto Iglesias - THE KITE RUNNER
Dario Marianelli - ATONEMENT
Howard Shore - EASTERN PROMISES


BEST ORIGINAL SONG – MOTION PICTURE
"Despedida" — LOVE IN THE TIME OF CHOLERA (Music by: Shakira, Antonio Pinto Lyrics by: Shakira)
"Grace Is Gone" — GRACE IS GONE (Music by: Clint Eastwood Lyrics by: Carole Bayer Sager)
"Guaranteed" — INTO THE WILD (Music & Lyrics by: Eddie Vedder)
"That’s How You Know" — ENCHANTED (Music & Lyrics by: Alan Menken)
"Walk Hard" — WALK HARD: THE DEWEY COX STORY (Music & Lyrics by: Marshall Crenshaw, John C. Reilly, Judd Apatow, Jake Kasdan)

Cast: Jonah Hill, Michael Sera, Seth Rogen

Director: Greg Mottola

Running time: 1 hr 59 mins

Genre: Comedy/Teen


REVIEW:


SUPERBAD, in cinema, is rated R for pervasive crude and sexual content, strong language, drinking, some drug use and a fantasy/comic violent image, all involving teens – right, just stop there for a sec and freeze frame on the last word: teens. What a rating for a teenage flick. It all sounded as though MPAA was promoting this film to everyone who wanted to see some “persuasive crude and sexual content” in a movie, and let alone, a teenage flick. Phew.


If you think SUPERBAD is an offensive, swear-word-magnet of a film, although it boasts almost a thousand word of it, then you should need to start putting on your cloaks and exit the moviehouse straight away. However, if you wanted some good fun chuck-full with misadventures, hilarious dialogues, mentally demented humour and slapstick antics, this is the super film for you. After all, this is brought by Judd Apatow, the one responsible for this year’s breakout comedy hit with a heart KNOCKED UP, and last few years’ THE 40-YEAR-OLD VIRGIN, and written by Seth Rogen himself, the man responsible for “knocking up” Katherine Heigl in the aforementioned film.


Here, we come across another high school comedy, a genre so superfluously tackled a thousand times before, ever since Jason Biggs started pumping on some innocent pie. Two losers, appropriately names Seth (Jonah Hill) and Evan (Michael Cera), whose names could ring bells for the past Apatow leading “loser” mans, are on a crusade for their remaining high school days that is to lose their virginities and to get laid before making way for bigger horizons at college.


Wanting to prove themselves to girls on later party, they embark on a full-fledged alcoholic romp with the film’s geeky superstar, ridiculously named McLovin, with fake ID’s and pretentious personalities. While the film’s outer surface is all about rampaging teenage hormones and high-school sexual frustrations, it is not the movie’s main core, which gives SUPERBAD not just super-gross-out lewdness, but a super-good heart as well.


The performances are pretty unexpected for these amateur youngsters. Cera is that impeccable example of an innocent-looking youth, who respects girls but wanting to get his virginity over and done with, but his downfall sometimes rely heavily on his face that looked as though he’s suffering an identity crisis. Meanwhile, his opposite, Hill, is that motor-mouth teenager who could make Tarantino beaming with pride. He lives up to that standard where the earlier you get laid, the more experienced you become, and thinks of girls as they could be attracted to bed by booze.


But it’s the tale of friendship, the male bonding that lingers as the film fades; that when the best of buds do grow up, they have to face life separately yet still remain, with experiences, to be there for each other whatever may come, may they be silly coppers, booze-loaded wimps, and vomiting women.


VERDICT:


The accurate, rather hilarious, take on pre-adult sex-and-alcohol caper is a joyous, realistic film to watch. While it lacks in innovation and thrives on the revision of the genre, thankfully it doesn’t descend into the sulky, embarrassing American high-school picture status. SUPERBAD is a super-good film to watch when you’re super-bored.



RATING: B+

Cast: Jónsi Birgisson, Kjartan Sveinsson, Orri Páll Dýrason, Georg Holm

Director: Dean DeBlois

Running-time: 1hr 40 mins

Genre: Rock Film


REVIEW:


The opening reel of this so-called rock film is a montage so astonishing to behold: a backward playback of a flowing stream, tracing its origin, until to the waterfall as the cascading water retreats to where it came from – while the heartbreaking tune of “Glósoli” plays in the background. From this scene alone, only one of the many stunning and beautiful imagery of HEIMA, it’s undisputed that this transcends way beyond as being a rock film. This is the reinvention of a concert film, impressed with a revolutionary imprint that only a very few artists today have ever achieved.


HEIMA, Icelandic meaning for “home”, is Sigur Ros’ vision in paying tribute to their homeland Iceland. Unlike any concert films, this doesn’t show us with reels of screaming fans and hardcore concert scenes, but gives us photography unlike any other in the form of high-definition moving vistas that captures the real beauty and near-perfection of Icelandic landscapes and scenery. Taken during the summer of 2006, where the band Sigur Ros goes back to their roots after years of touring the world and capturing the gushes of appraisals from music critics around the globe, they decided to perform for free around their home country, in locations almost impossible to imagine. From the middle of fields in nowhere, to the volcanic land-spots, in an abandoned fish factory, seafronts, in sleepy hamlets, and of course, the capital of Rejkyavik, after seeing this you, it would tempt you to book your next holiday trip to Iceland straight on.


It is in the spirit of the film and its concept that makes HEIMA a very moving and personal experience. Combined with Sigur Ros’ hauntingly beautiful, sweeping, ethereal and enigmatic music, it is very rare for a concert film that would put you in pathos of sheer encapsulation, as though you’re envisaged in a personal meditation. What Sigur Ros have done here for their country is a wonderful tribute. Engrossing timelapse photography of nature, sunrise, sunsets, open fields, mountains, visceral fields, and also towns, villages, children and people, are all heralded in a statement of love for the home country. This is pure life captured in a quiet, subtle manner.


One of the most emotional and heartwarming scenes would have to be Sigur Ros’ performance in a lunch hall, where as they were singing, the camera shows the local people who are all related to each other from generations to generations, having lunch together and enjoying each other’s companies. The scene of children flying kites with the song “Hoppipolla” being played a magnificent sight-and-sound to be remembered always. After all, it’s their music that gives this film a mesmerising atmosphere.


VERDICT:


It’s gorgeous, magical, breathtaking, and thoughtfully evocative. Being the best music film ever made is no question. For some who doesn’t know about this band Sigur Ros, you are in for a musical challenge; while for fans, let this overflow you with nostalgia and any other memories and emotions that only this band can conjure with their music of isolated, majestic precision. HEIMA may be small in scale, but it’s a gigantic masterpiece and the most perfect love-letter that anyone can give to their homeland.


RATING: A+




Cast: Nicole Kidman, Matt Dillon, Joaquin Phoenix, Casey Affleck

Director: Gus Van Sant

Running time: 1 hr 47 mins

Genre: Comedy/Drama/Indie


REVIEW:

There’s a shocking, adroit wit in this Gus Van Sant feature that sends razor-sharp knives to the modern media-savvy society in the form of an artsy satire. It’s almost a scary truth as what TO DIE FOR delivers to the audience, that there are indeed people out there obsessed with gaining fame that climbing social ladders are a must, sleeping with anyone part of the stratum is an obligation, and even killing somebody is a learning experience, if necessary. With that meticulous message, all is told in a ruthlessly vicious black comedy that’s as funny, as sexy, and as cunning as hell.

That social climber is Suzanne Stone Maretto, played by the über-magnificent all-around thespian Nicole Kidman, whose blonde-girl looks and drop-dead gorgeousness resembles that of a fairy tale princess but has an ambition in life that’s as merciless as a wicked witch. She’s a pretty, porcelain-skinned small-town girl turned lovable local weather reporter married to normal slacker boy Larry Maretto (Matt Dillon, who looked so young here), son of an Italian restaurant-owning family. However, at the first reel of the film, we dive head first to the story: Suzanne is arrested for suspicion on her husband’s murder, after a series of shots of newspaper clips that explained the movie’s premise. But Suzanne has her own story – like any great arthouse flicks, it is stripped out of its Hollywood conformity, and gives us this straightforward feel of storytelling. She tells her view of the story in front of the camera, amid a plain white screen, with utter confidence and quirky tongue as though she was having an interview of her life, all spotlights turned on her, all the world’s ears listening.

Her character shows a cold-blooded narcissist obsessed with the television age philosophy “What’s the point of doing anything worthwhile if no one is watching”, an ultimate American epitome of its society. She scuffles for anything fame-worthy, and although she lands as a small television star, to her she considers it to the level of tabloid buzz or even nationwide fame. To bring it all together, she starts a documentary project with local school teenagers Jimmy (Joaquin Phoenix), Russell (Casey Affleck), and Lydia (Alison Folland), whom the first bloke fell in love with her. Here she uses the teenagers to plot murder, getting rid of her husband.

This is a spectacular film to behold in the field of character study. Larry, the schlocky good-for-nothing husband played by Dillon, is a sympathetic character brought up under his patriarchal Italian beginnings where husbands belong to houses and become mafia-like dons. Illeana Douglas, who plays Larry’s ice-skater sister Janice, gives an underrated performance. We brood and sulk along with her when her thunder was stolen in that scene where Suzanne announces her new job. Joaquin Phoenix, younger and very innocent-looking, delivers a sensitive performance as a teenager recklessly in love with the prospect of love, and would do anything for Suzanne’s whims.

Nonetheless, this is Kidman’s shining moment. Probably one of her best roles to date, which won her 6 Best Actress awards including her first Golden Globes circa 1995 and Empire Award, she possess an acting CV that any living Hollywood actress would make a run out of their jobs and money, making Suzanne Stone a timeless character that would always ring true no matter what generation you’re in. She tackles this character with aplomb and sense of control that it’s almost unpredictable, her ways and means, her class and style. With the glamorous dresses she’s in, the make-up she wears, the hairstyle she dons, the manoeuvres she steers in, it’s all tuned up into pitch-perfection. Yes, Suzanne is a vain, egomaniacal, hateful, and hilariously stupid yet burgeoning with slyness – but she’s also vulnerably human, a post-modernist fantasist lost in the wilderness of hyperspace and media craze. Great thanks to a witty script too; Kidman’s response to her husband when being asked about having children was “You should have married Mary Poppins if you want a babysitter.” And in an ironic scene, where Van Sant carefully executed, Suzanne was arrested and was escorted to the court, cameras flashing her way and reporters throwing questions about the arranged murder she was suspected of, to her it was like walking the red carpet with style.

VERDICT:

This rare, vicious, mean little arthouse comedy-satire works on so many levels, probably one of Gus Van Sant’s bests. Characters are not undermined but rather portrayed persuasively, or if possible, tinged with humanity that views the world inhumanely. Nicole Kidman is just iconic and, well – to die for.


RATING: A

Cast: David Haig, Daniel Radcliffe, Kim Cattrall, Carey Mulligan

Director: Brian Kirk

Running-time: 2 hrs

Genre: Biography/War/Drama


REVIEW:

Helmed in tribute to the heroes who died during the First World War and televised in ITV1 on Memorial Day 11th November 2007, the result of this special is not your ordinary film made for television viewing – MY BOY JACK is a moving, almost-utterly-compelling biographic drama about family, responsibility, and love for the country. After all, the Brits had produced several television greats, and this one is just one major testament that there are still good things that come out of your telly these days.

The date was 1914, and this is the story about the renowned writer Rudyard Kipling (David Haig) at the pinnacle of his literary fame, whose great influence in the British Empire gives him an opportunity to schmooze with big-named people i.e. King George V, so when his son, John Kipling (Daniel Radcliffe), was turned down by the military examination due to his poor eyesight, he uses his commandeering voice. He argues that his son is an extremely bona fide volunteer to go war and fight for the name of the British Empire, and his being a bespectacled person doesn’t make him a total invalid. The son, called Jack in the family, goes to war, determined to bring honour to his country, and his father thinks if his son dies in the war, it would be for the name of glory. But the consequence arise, is the father ready to lose his only son in devotion to his King and country?

It’s one of those films that doesn’t glorify war, and shows us this unnerving portrait of humans sacrificing their lives all for the name of their country. Unlike any other war films, the crux of the story is not really about war but the passionate and bitter responsibilities of fathers and sons who are all forced to face the brutality in the absence of choice.

Daniel Radcliffe, taking off his wizard cloak for a while from Harry Potter submersion and after dropping his kit in bizarrely successful West End stage play EQUUS, takes another role that lets him spread his wings as far away from the wizarding role he gained fame of. His presence is not only a testament of higher television ratings but giving a performance to John Kipling that could foretell this bloke’s got future acting career indeed. Putting Radcliffe in this WWI drama, young as he look, he sports a moustache and smokes and drinks, the effect is jarring to see – but after all, John “Jack” Kipling was no older than 18 when he joined the army and became Lieutenant, usurping older soldiers under his command. It’s a convincing portrait of a son living up to his father’s expectation and facing responsibility, but deep within, he’s just another scared person of losing his life in the war. Kim Cattrall, from America’s SEX AND THE CITY, plays Jack’s mother in a quietly understated and self-controlled performance, and Carey Mulligan gives fire to a daughter and a sister who’s expected to keep silent in family discussions. However, all acting plaudits goes to David Haig as Rudyard Kipling from his overt sense of extreme patriotism at the start, almost hateful in character as a father who offers more importance to his national duty rather than his love for his family, to his transformation of a person who suffers in his conscience and guilt and shame. The scene of the arrival of the telegram is just power-packed with emotional punch, showing that it’s what all the parents feared for in the days of war.

To admit, there are sluggish scenes as well, as this cannot be uplifted to cinema status, but as a film for television it is exceptional with visuals that are nicely shot – the idyllic house of the Kiplings, the gardens, and then the gloom of the war in France, the gruel battlefields. After you’ve seen it all, you’ll realise it’s a worthwhile television drama, a scope of something that matters to our world, in the past, and even until now.

VERDICT:

The war scenes may not be Spielbergian in scale, but after all, this film for television’s intention is to tell a story about heroism out of the embittered duties of life during the WWI, and to pay tribute to those sons who live up to their fathers’ dreams. This is a haunting, powerful drama spilled with genuine performances worth watching for.


RATING: A-

Cast: Adrien Brody, Owen Wilson, Jason Schwartzmann, Anjelica Huston, Bill Murray

Director: Wes Anderson

Running-time: 1 hr 31 mins

Genre: Drama/Comedy


REVIEW:

Wes Anderson’s films were as commonly weird as mustard on cake. Take that from the critics, as I’ve never seen his films before, namely THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS, RUSHMORE and THE LIFE AQUATIC WITH STEVE ZISSOU, and in his latest input to cinema is a tale of three dysfunctional brothers, THE DARJEELING LIMITED, aboard a journey towards self-discovery. And like mustard on cake, its taste might appeal awkward and odd to other people, but it’s the whimsical imprint that Anderson had put his finger upon this craft – it’s funny, silly, slightly pessimistic, but entirely not a waste for it’s also heartwarming and could tug some strings. Probably this is could be the most Wes Anderson film only Anderson could make.

It is a sad story viewed in a peculiar, funny manner. Three brothers convened together years after without communication, spearheaded by self-appointed patriarch Francis (Owen Wilson), whose entire screentime is covered up with bandages around his face and sporting a broken nose after a near-to-death car crash experience. He organised a trip aboard the train The Darjeeling Limited across India for a so-called “spiritual journey”. He is joined by Peter (Adrien Brody), the middle son, whose claim that as the father’s favourite child cannot cope with the fact that he’s becoming a father himself with his wife that he doesn’t love and had planned a divorce with, and the youngest brother Jack (Jason Schwartzmann), a writer who had just been out of a relationship and in constant denial that his novels are based on his life. Together they set in a strange journey filled with misadventures where almost everything goes almost awry, with their train losing on track. This was where one of the film’s finest one-liner was delivered, credit to Schwartzmann’s i-don’t-care-what-happens persona, “How can a train be lost when it’s on rails?” It’s just plain classic.

Each of the brothers has their own story to tell: Francis, an order obsessive-compulsive maniac who wants to impose change around him but cannot change his own curbs; Peter, a man wanting to end a stage of life with his wife yet suddenly faced with a responsibility with a soon-to-be-born child; and Jack, a contrite writer who actually grieves for the loss of his girlfriend but still wanting to feel alright with the world. The performance of this triptych is a combination of amiable deliveries from Wilson, Brody and Schwartzmann that works perfectly well alongside each other. The tale is told in a colourful, deliberate filmmaking (as though the cinematographer forgot that we’re already living in the digital world) amid the backdrop of the striking landscapes of India, and it works. Cue those shaky shots of the train interiors, as you’re watching it you can actually feel as though you’re in the train and the camera’s rattling along in it.

While of course it is a flawed film, with Anderson being a bit more self-indulgent in his telling of story. Sometimes it hurtles here and there, and the journey seems to emit some unexpected smokes. It can be qualified for a Director’s Cut, as some scenes feel a bit long and unnecessary. But as an entire, after all, this is Anderson in his most personal, light-hearted directorial effort, making you feel he doesn’t give a flying fuss to anyone who thinks this film is rubbish. See the short film HOTEL CHEVALIER, with Natalie Portman in it, before the whole film starts, it will complete the Anderson package-extravaganza.

VERDICT:

Crafting something seriously-sad-themed tale into something with light-hearted humour is a skill Anderson could smile of. His THE DARJEELING LIMITED traverses a track rarely travelled by many, a focus on these three damaged lives in a journey really about emotional baggage. Self-indulgent, but warm enough to please many. The bittersweet slow-motion catch-the-train scene at the end is just a testament of subtle cinema.


RATING: B+