I didn't exactly hate this movie, but I didn't like it much either. Tempted by the reviews which claimed that British director Ben Wheatley and his regular screenwriter Amy Jump had managed the impossible in bringing J G Ballard's 1975 novel to the screen, we gave it a go. It's always been thought that the book was unfilmable -- and it should have stayed that way if you ask me.
Wheatley is increasingly well-thought of as one of the best directors in the country, but I didn't particularly like any of his earlier flicks: "Down Terrace", "Kill List" (I tried watching it twice), the period piece black-and-white "A Field in England", or the would-be black comedy "Sightseers". There is a cruel streak running throughout his films, not leavened by a light touch, and this latest movie is easily his nastiest. Set in the 70s, the tale is obviously meant to be taken as some sort of parable on the Thatcher years as well as our society today. 'The Architect' dreamer, Jeremy Irons, has created a towering high-tech building which is meant to provide everything the tenants could desire -- from state-of-the-art kitchens and waste-disposal systems, from the supermarket to the pool, from the health spa to the squash courts. He lives in the top penthouse with his spoiled wife, surrounded by lush green gardens roomy enough for her pet white horse and various other farm animals; she can play at being Marie Antoinette to her heart's content. The lower floors are occupied by a hierarchy of classes, with the plebs near the bottom and the would-be aristos towards the top. The main cast of characters includes Luke Evans and his heavily pregnant wife, Elizabeth Moss, with their brood of kiddies, semi-courtesan Sienna Miller and her introverted genius son (who may well have been fathered by Irons), and a nasty lot of toffs led by James Purefoy. Our hero (and I use the word very loosely) doctor Tom Hiddleston has just moved into a flat on the 25th floor.
I confess that I am getting fed up with Hiddleston's omnipresence in film and TV nowadays, with his displaying his slim but buff body at every opportunity. Apparently some ladies lust after this would-be heart-throb, but his appeal leaves me baffled. I understand that he is angling to become the next James Bond when Daniel Craig finally packs it in, but I do hope a better alternative will arise to save the franchise.
Anyhow, back to the subject at hand, things start to go wrong almost immediately -- the lights fail, the lifts don't work, the garbage becomes backed up, and despite being surrounded by acres of free parking, the inhabitants of the tower seem unable or unwilling to leave their microcosm of society. This is where I lose the plot as outlined. There seems to be no logic as to why they are unable to go outside or why their automobiles soon become burnt out wrecks; in fact we actually see Hiddleston go to his office in a nearby research hospital on several occasions. Things go from bad to worse in a kind of a "Lord of the Flies" world, where the rich in-bred bullies try to impose their will on the lower ranks through mayhem and murder. The analogy used in the movie is that of a children's birthday party run riot. The white horse and the many pet dogs soon become the only remaining sources of nourishment, although the diminishing number of inhabitants never seem to run out of cigarettes. It is the l970s remember...and everyone seems to smoke non-stop.
There's two hours of compulsive madness, non-stop carousing, casual sex, and mob-led bloodshed without any likely resolution in sight. One hopes we can look forward to a rosier future than the one created by Irons (and Ballard) in their ivory-tower master-plan for society.
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To end on a cheerier note, I have finally managed to watch the recent Academy Award animation winner "Inside Out". It's a brilliant work of absolute genius. I just can't understand the many writers who have given it a one-out-of-ten ranking on IMDb. Draggy? Boring? They must be mad or weird or both. Or is it me?