Friday, 27 May 2016

We Still Kill the Old Way (2014)

This British gangster flick has been lurking on my hard disc for some weeks now, since I was in absolutely no rush to view yet another samey East End baddies film; the blame for the recent popularity of these is down to Guy Ritchie and his many imitators. I reckoned there must be an upper limit to variations on an increasingly boring theme, but I finally watched the movie as a matter of principle. (I have this weird conviction that it is incumbent upon this self-proclaimed buff to at least try any film that I've not seen previously -- although an increasing number do get wiped halfway through.)

Boy was I pleasantly surprised!  Nothing to do with the 1967 Italian film of the same title, actor/writer/director Sacha Bennett has fashioned a crowd-pleaser of a movie, as long as that crowd is made up of older viewers who are fed up with the insouciant smugness of the young. (I guess I have to lump myself with such dinosaurs). Ian Ogilvy -- remember the handsome actor from "The Witchfinder General" (1968) and television's The Saint? -- may have put on some weight and added a few jowls but he's still a commanding presence. He plays an ex-hard man who has evaded the law and retired to a sybaritic life in Spain. He receives word that his happy-go-lucky brother (a brief appearance by Steven Berkoff) has been murdered back in London. So he returns to his old stamping ground and the welcoming arms of his cronies (veteran actors Christopher Ellison, Tony Denton, Nicky Henson, and James Cosmo) to unearth the culprits and exact vengeance.

We the viewers know from the start that Berkoff was stamped to death by a gang of local youths led by the thoroughly nasty and reprehensible Aaron, played by a young actor with the unlikely name of Danny-Boy Hatchard, when he intervened in a proposed gang-bang of Aaron's most recent bit of skirt. She's played by one Dani Dyer -- would you believe it? -- the daughter of the boorish actor Danny Dyer, who has appeared in most of the above-mentioned rash of Cockney gangster flicks, but who thankfully does not appear in this one. Aaron and his gang are of the generation who think it smart to post their violence on the web in the attempt to be famous for fifteen minutes or so. The whole mob of them, with the exception of his bookish brother who befriends Dyer's Lauren, are so unlikeable that one is left rooting for the oldsters and it doesn't take them long to unearth the reason for Berkoff's death and the likely culprits.

Add to the mix actresses Alison Doody as the local detective who can't quite clean up the streets and Lysette Anthony as the chirpy sparrow who has long had a crush on Ogilvy. Both actresses have been around for yonks, with Doody's first appearance being in the 1985 Bond movie "A View to Kill" back in the Roger Moore days. At first glance she seems rather well preserved until the excessive face 'work' becomes obvious. Anthony on the contrary plays her age and is eager to assist Ogilvie and his mates in restoring the erstwhile 'charms' of the fabled East End. What follows is pretty graphic torture, bloodshed, and shoot-outs between the old fellows and the consistently cocky youngsters (who are soon metaphorically crying for their mommies). The saving grace is that our heroes' mayhem is carried out with a smattering of  black humour, particularly from Cosmo, leaving the viewer firmly on their side. It is very satisfying to see these older actors back in action as a kind of geriatric "Get Carter", and there is a lovely throwaway line referring to the Italian job back in '69.

The film ends with the aging mates itching for more challenges and considering taking on the big bad bankers. And indeed a sequel is currently being filmed entitled "We Still Steal the Old Way". I do hope that movie proves as jolly as the one reviewed here.

Friday, 20 May 2016

Green Room (2015) vs Der Bunker (2015)

Normally if I go to the cinema during the week, the film I choose would form the centrepiece of my weekly ramblings. Not this week! Having been conned by a run of super-positive reviews, a 7.7 rating on IMDb, and my general fondness for the horror genre, I went to see "Green Room" which was flaunted as art-house gore. What a crock and what a incredibly awful film!

I really don't want to waste too much time on this over-hyped flick, but will just say that the whole premise of a rock-punk band being held captive by a bunch of neo-Nazis led by Patrick Stewart was marred by an illogical plot, terrible dialogue, and a cast of interchangeable actors that one didn't give two hoots about. Leads Anton Yelchin and Imogen Poots were super-bland and I bet Stewart would love to delete this movie from his filmography. The only bit I liked was when one of the wounded killer-dogs (yes, people were ripped to pieces by dogs) traipsed off to find his dead master to rest his weary head. Ahhh....

Now you may think that a film titled "Der Bunker" would also be about neo-Nazis or at least some kind of war movie, but no. This German movie by first-time feature director Nikias Chryssos was more of a horror flick than the Stewart fiasco -- without any gore let it be said, but full of quirky action. For lovers of the truly off-beat, amongst whom I would number myself, this film is something very different indeed. There are only four characters; Pit Bukowski, credited merely as 'The Student' ploughs through a snowy and barren landscape to reach the underground bunker-like residence of 'The Father' and 'The Mother', who have advertised a delightful room to rent, where he hopes to continue his unspecified research in pleasant peace and calm. He is shown into a dimly-lit, low-ceilinged, sparsely furnished space with no windows ('if the light can't get in, neither can it get out' says Father). 

At dinner that night Father keeps a record of each dumpling consumed and each serviette used to charge the impoverished student accordingly. He suggests that Bukowski might work off his debt by helping with the chores and in particular taking over the home-schooling of their son Klaus, who they feel is remarkably stupid and unable to learn the important facts (like all the capitals of every country)  that will one day allow him to become President (weirdly of the United States!). I guess Klaus is meant to be a teenager, but he's a great lump dressed like a very young boy a la Little Lord Fauntleroy, and he is played by Daniel Fripan, a 5'3" actor who is 31 years old.

The weirdness doesn't end there. When Klaus is a good boy he is rewarded by being able to feed at his mother's bare breast and merrily slurps away. The family's idea of fun is the occasional 'joke evening' where Mother and Klaus cuddle on the sofa while Father reads out the corniest of old chestnuts. Mother also seems to be in some sort of spiritual connection with a former lodger, with whom she communicates through a cupboard and who manifests himself as a growing, throbbing gash on her leg. Klaus eventually memorises all the capitals after suggesting that the capital of France is Mama-chusetts, but only after the Student has thrashed and bloodied his hands. He also teaches Klaus how to 'play', the concept of which is completely foreign to the lunkhead, and they gallivant about in their classroom playing catch and horsey. After a disastrous birthday celebration, Klaus wants to leave home much to Mother and Father's dismay...but the student is fated to remain in the bunker to carry on his domestic duties.

I've only touched on the inherent strangeness of this unusual film, which becomes even more outlandish as it progresses. I'd recommend your seeking it out, but I suspect that it will never feature amongst Amazon's best-sellers or be readily available to view, unlike the miserable "Green Room".

Friday, 13 May 2016

Florence Foster Jenkins (2016)

I have admitted previously that once upon a time I really didn't like Meryl Streep with her funny accents and barnstorming performances. But that was then! For years now I have joined the club that fetes her many talents and I am constantly amazed not just by her versatility but by her likeability as well.

The above film, loosely based on the real-life Madam Florence, is hysterically funny in parts; at the same time it is sweetly heart-breaking. An aging heiress and a fixture on the New York social and cultural scene in the l940s, her passion was music. She loved to sing and took endless voice lessons. The only problem was that she was a hopeless singer -- and no one had the heart or courage to tell her this. To her own ears, she was a nightingale. The same story (but without the true biographical detail) is also the subject of the recent French film "Marguerite" (2015), with the talented Catherine Frot in the Streep role.

Florence is protected and cosseted by her devoted younger husband, one St Clair Bayfield, a failed English actor and purportedly wrong-side-of the-blanket aristocrat. In truth the pair were never married, but he did indeed become her agent, comforter, and faithful companion -- theirs being a platonic relationship since Florence was syphilitic thanks to her first disastrous marriage. He maintains a love-nest for mistress Kathleen to fulfil his more basic needs, but his foremost loyalty is to the aging diva. This part is played by Hugh Grant with greater gravitas than his most famous roles would suggest possible. He's made relatively few cinema appearances of late and determinedly turned down reprising his role in the latest Bridget Jones movie. I've had the impression that he's more or less fed up with the whole silly business, so the grace and depth that he displays here came as a pleasant surprise. And he can still dance up a storm.

In fact he is so good that there is talk of a potential Oscar nomination, but it's early days yet and movies with spring release dates tend to be forgotten by the end of the qualifying season. Mind you if any of the cast deserves special recognition (apart from Streep whose nomination seems a shoo-in), I would single out Simon Helberg playing Florence's accompanist, the marvellously named Cosme McMoon. Helberg is apparently best known for his recurring role in the long-running TV series "The Big Bang Theory" which I have never seen, so his endearing turn here as the talented pianist struggling to keep a straight face while Madame Florence howls through her arias was an unexpected treat and nothing short of brilliant. 

However without Streep's inspired performance there would be no movie or a far less entertaining one. We all know that she famously studied opera as a young lady and that she can certainly still sing beautifully ("Mamma Mia" being a case in point). As luck would have it I also viewed her previous movie this week, "Ricki and the Flash" (2015), in which she plays a rock-chick who has forsaken her family for the pop career that never quite materialised, and her vocalising is the highpoint of that so-so film. She therefore required special coaching to portray the awfulness of Florence's operatic ambitions and it is impossible not to laugh heartily at her enthusiastic squawks and yowls. Yet we can not help rooting for the poor benighted lady and she is more a figure of pity than a figure of fun. When the truth finally hits home after her Carnegie Hall debut, despite Bayfield's urgent machinations to protect her from the most hurtful of reviews, she says 'Some may say that I couldn't sing, but no one can say that I didn't sing'. It's a bittersweet moment.     

Friday, 6 May 2016

Locke (2013)

It didn't even occur to me to book tickets for this film when it was featured at the London Film Festival, since the premise sounded a little iffy, and I usually assume that I will catch up with any worthwhile British flicks in due course. Much to everyone's amazement it was the surprise breakout hit of the fest.

Tom Hardy is Ivan Locke, heading a cast which includes Olivia Colman, Ruth Wilson and other noted thesps, and he is the whole show. Why? Because he is the only actor on screen as he drives down the motorway at night. Everyone else is just a voice on his car-phone. Although Hardy is associated with action roles in movies like "Inception" and "The Dark Knight Rises", the only actions in this film are the whirling emotions and problems in Ivan's brain as he ploughs towards London, dealing with a constant stream of calls and callers.

The second directorial effort from writer-producer Steven Knight after the Jason Statham vehicle "Hummingbird" (also 2013), Knight was responsible for the screenplays for a number of winning films such as "Eastern Promises" and "Dirty Pretty Things". Hardy may bear the success of the movie on his very sturdy shoulders -- much like the singleton heroes of "127 Hours" and "Buried", but Knight has provided him with a variety of problems to occupy his mind and ours and the 90 minute running time never flags.

Locke lives and breathes concrete in his engineering job and Europe's biggest 'pour' is scheduled for the morrow. However he can't be there to supervise things since an urgent phone call from a one-night stand informs him that she is about to give birth prematurely and is depending on his moral support. Seems he somehow never got around to telling his wife and sons about this; while he has no affectionate feelings towards the hospitalised woman, he does have strong feelings of duty and obligation. Meanwhile there are problems with the preparations for the 'pour' and his somewhat inebriated second-in-command is not quite coping. Poor old Ivan finds himself having to juggle the demands of the needy mother-to-be (and there are birth complications as well), having to hope for some kind of understanding and forgiveness from his family, and having to justify his actions at work to his unsympathetic superiors. 

What the movie teaches us is that one's life can change drastically and dramatically in a matter of a few hours (and in a confined space as well), as Ivan risks ruining his career and his marriage by doing what he believes to be the honourable thing. The film finishes fairly abruptly and we are left to guess whether he will manage to salvage anything from the ruins of his unexpected journey -- and the omens are not promising.

Hardy does a sterling job of keeping us rooting for his hero, despite the calamities that seem to be awaiting at every turn. My only problem with his character was the use of an inconsistent Welsh accent which was completely inexplicable and unnecessary. He would have done even better if he kept his own quite acceptable voice for the beleaguered Ivan Locke.