I Want You Back Guardians

For the first time in as long as I can remember I have walked into a cinema screen and had fun; pure, unadulterated, uninterrupted fun. From the moment Chris Pratt’s Star Lord bursts into dance at the opening credits until the moment…well the moment he bursts into dance at the finale pretty much. Guardians of the Galaxy might not be the smartest film you’ll see this year or the most powerful but by God it is the one you’ll remember when December rolls round.

Part of the success is that Guardians is the first Marvel movie you can go into without needing any real understanding of the established universe. It’s not a superhero film, it doesn’t feature cameo’s from Mark Ruffulo or make reference to something important down the line. It’s a space opera taking place in a galaxy far, far away and while the influences of Star Wars, Firefly, Farscape and Cowboy Bebop are all too apparent the film has an energy and wit all of its own.

Much of that wit comes in the form of Chris Pratt’s performance as Peter Quill, a human abducted from Earth as a child who, twenty-six years later, is now trying to establish himself as the outlaw Star Lord. His cocksure, space cowboy persona is a fun opening gimmick but watching it get undercut by how little it means is what seals the deal. Quill’s dedication to the pop culture tropes and references of Earth reinforce his tragic characterisation as a kid trapped in a man’s body trying to imitate Han Solo. Make no mistake people Quill is no John Crichton and if his companions fail to get his remarks about The Maltese Falcon or Footloose it’s all part of the gag. 

Of course it’s mostly Star Lord’s that kick of the plot when he retrieves a mysterious orb from a dead planet. The orb is sought by Ronan the Accuser a genocidal manic who wants to use it to destroy his enemy the Xandarians(just get used to the weird names here) and so sends his living weapon Gamora to steal it from Quill. Meanwhile Quill has a bounty on his head that draws the attention of Rocket Raccoon and Groot, a tree-person whose vocab is limited to ‘I am Groot’. In the end they all clash on Xandar and end up in prison where they meet Drax the Destroyer,a bruiser with a score to settle with Ronan. There the five agree to team up, sell the orb and split the cash.

Then things take a turn of formula. Turns out the orb is a planet-destroying weapon and the gang need to put their interests aside for greater good and yadda yadda yadda. Yeah part of Guardians fault is that it spends a lot of time trying to ignore the whole big picture altruism that heroes are supposed to have. So much so that it can’t quite sell everyone’s turn for good when it’s time for the big space battle.

This is largely down to the portrayal of Gamora. Not Zoe Saldana mind, who does a good job of balancing her effortless badassery with the exasperated straight woman role. No the problem is that Gamora has the most significant role in the plot outside of Quill, with her betrayal of Ronan forcing the Guardians together and her horror at the orb’s power the instigator for their last hurrah. This is all fine stuff but it’s never backed up by anything. There’s no destruction of Alderran that drives home the monstrosity of Ronan, no moment for her to reflect that what he could do with this kind of force. Compare this with Karen Gillan’s Nebula who breathes resentment for Gamora and their shared father Thanos the Mad Titan. At the end when Nebula betrays her father for Ronan it’s all too clear why she does this. With Gamora there is no such scene.

Gamora isn’t the only plot contrivance pushing the characters along though. An extended scene with the orbs would-be buyer Taneleer Tivan (last seen after the credits of Thor: The Dark World). Benicio Del Toro gives a delightfully camp performance but can’t escape the fact that he is simply explaining the purpose of the orb for the sake of plot. Thankfully though his scenes provide a new environment for the Guardian’s antics and another colourful action beat.

That’s the thing, significant though they may be the problems with Guardians never overshadows the level of fun, humour and action that the film has. The entire supporting cast is a riot, Dave Batista in particular kills as the entirely literal Drax. While Groot isn’t exactly Hodor the ‘I am Groot’ never gets old and his emotional intelligence paves the way for an incredibly affecting payoff. And look at that I finally managed to get through a Bradley Cooper film without my bum going to sleep. 

Other than that Guardians of the Galaxy is a ride, an energetic exciting ride that begs to be repeated. Yes it’s formulaic but formula can be a great jumping point for inventive action scenes, consistently funny characters and a universe of tricks and toys to be played with. Well worth a watch again and again.

A Grim Session with The German Doctor

The greatest fault of The German Doctor, originally titled Wakolda is perhaps that it relies too much on your knowledge going in. To truly understand just how chilling a film about a struggling Argentinian family and the mild-mannered physician who comes to lodge at their hotel in 1960 you must already know a little about who the man is.

The German Doctor is shrouded in mystery for much of the film, with focus instead thrown on the relationships that the doctor, who goes by the name Helmut Gregor, forms with the family. He takes a scientific interest in their diminutive daughter Lilith, identifying a growth defect that he can treat. Mother Eva is wary of allowing a virtual stranger to experiment on her child but being fifteen weeks pregnant with another she knows she may need his help. While the father, Enzo is made predictably anxious by this newcomer’s increasing involvement with his family. Even when Gregor offers to invest in a business venture together, mass producing the doll Enzo made for Lilith, named Wakolda from which the film gains its Spanish title.   

Then comes the twist, that this seemingly average German doctor is in fact escaped war criminal Joseph Mengele. While some may know Mengele as the villain in The Boys from Brazil he is in fact the kind of Nazi scientist that other Nazi scientists thought insane. On top of the unknown number of people he killed Mengele amputated his victim’s limbs, infected them with Typhus and injected chemicals into their eyes among other horrific crimes. However The German Doctor chooses not to outline the depths of Mengele’s evils, most of his work is conveyed in a handful of graphic drawings in his notebook. Assuming this information is either common knowledge or simply already implicit in his association with the Nazis.

Whatever the reason it feels like The German Doctor could have pushed its subject matter for greater dramatic tension. This is a film about a collection of innocents coming to the realisation that they have colluded, however unknowingly, with a monster. The theme of lost innocence is felt most profoundly with Lilith who gains the most from Menegle’s presence and so becomes the most enamoured with him. At the threshold of puberty she takes an interest in this charming older man, eventually coming to learn about his work and ideologies. Thankfully their scenes never possess a Lolita-esque vibe, Mengele views her more a subject of study than anything. And it has to be said Florencia Bado gives a charming, naive performance as Lilith without becoming overly precocious.

The real star though is Alex Brendemuhl with the unenviable task of playing one of history worst menaces with zero menace. His cold, still eyes suit more and alien with an understated curiosity about other people. His Mengele is calculating about everything, wanting to be liked but only to maintain his cover, wanting to help but only to further his research. It is not until he finds the net closing around him that Mengele breaks out the hissing villainy, at which point it feel like a jarring turn of character. It is a performance which doesn’t plumb the depths of his psyche but it is effective nonetheless.

Before he flees though there is baggage to resolve with the family as Eva goes into labour and Mengele is the only physician available. A glimmer of a good deed forms in an otherwise black pit of evils as Mengele resolves to help the struggling newborn twins even with Isreali agents closing in. Meanwhile the family, with Enzo in particular, have to resolve accepting the help of a man who has committed atrocities. Will the lives of his children be forever tainted by this man’s influence? Will they be able to forgive themselves for not doing more to bring him to justice? For the family there are no easy answers.

In the end The German Doctor does not do anything new with its well-trod subject matter. It doesn’t have the big dramatic performances of Schindler’s List or the insights of Downfall. It does however provide a tense and occasionally compelling microcosm of the effects of the Holocaust. A slow-burning character piece that examines how easily it is for the devil to assume pleasing forms.

Edge of Tomorrow repeats itself, never repetitive

Edge of Tomorrow is one of those nice little surprises. Not a big surprise like Disney casting aside heteronormative values in Frozen or Cabin in the Woods being a thorough analysis of the horror genre. More of a Lords & Miller 'this actually turned out good?' surprise. On the surface it all sounds terribly derivative; 'Action Sci-Fi version of Groundhog Day? Haven't seen that since Source Code.' The star is the original cocksure, hyper-competent everyman now with a heavy dose of personal baggage which coupled with the rise of brand dominance is just not the box office draw he used to be (just look at Knight & Day, Oblivion). In fact Edge of Tomorrow itself may have fallen victim to Cruise's diminishing star power losing out heavily to The Fault in Our Stars. And yet in spite of all that the film still works as a satisfying blockbuster.

Part of Edge of Tomorrow's success does seem to be down to just how aware it is of Cruise's less than favourable reception among audiences. Beginning the film as military PR-man Major William Cage, promoted over his head for the sole purpose of marketing a futile war against alien invaders in the near future. Cage is slick, disinterested in war, dismissive of the loss of human life and, when told he's being deployed to the frontlines, resorts to blackmail and desertion. So half of the inital appeal is largely due to schadenfraude, watching him get thrown down with rookie recruits, then into a horribly violent warzone to get killed by the aliens and then find out we get to see it all happen again.

See the reason the aliens have been so ably kicking our arses is because certain members of their species have the power to reverse time. When Cage accidentally kills one he absorbs the power and gets sent back 24 hours, which is where the film pretty much runs on video game logic. Soon the battle becomes a question of memorising enemy spawn points to proceed further before dying a resetting. It's not long though before he acquired the assistance of Rita Vrataski (Emily Blunt), a hot-shot soldier whose exploits against the aliens are legendary thanks to previously being stuck in the same loop as Cage.

Watching the evolution of Cage from spineless coward to battle-hardened soldier, thanks to Vrataski is probably the films strongest section. Essentially attempting to write the walkthrough guide to the battle while making Cage capable enough to actually walk through it. There's little in the way of surprises as the solution boils down to eliminating the hive mind that will take out all the aliens Phantom Meanace-style. But the action is exciting and they almost always find something funny or compelling to do with the various deaths. That's perhaps Edge of Tomorrow's biggest achievement, that while it often runs through several of the same scenes and lines over and over again it never feels repetitive. There's always some fresh twist to the each resurrection and it manages to play Cage's learning about the people around him without completely ripping off Groundhog Day.

Props too go to Emily Blunt as Vrataski who in a lesser film would be relegated to exposition-monkey. Here though she managed to give the stone-cold warrior woman enough visceral entertainment value to be fun and enough good timing to even get a few laughs in. I did roll my eyes at the revelation of a dead boyfriend but given she had to experience the trauma repeatedly as Cage now has to do with her it actually provides a nice amount of depth.

Edge of Tomorrow isn't going to change your life but if you're not in the mood for overly-acerbic teenagers dying horribly of cancer it's probably your best bet before the new Transformers comes out. High octane science fiction that'll be best remembered as a fun watch a few years from now.

Last Stop Fruitvale Station

If you pay attention to the news in the US it does feel that not a month goes by without some example of Police abuse or gun violence disproportionately against African Americans. From Oscar Grant to Trayvon Martin to the assault of an ASU professor by campus police last month.  For this reason Fruitvale Station, which focuses on Grant, feels like a microcosm of this issue and an opportunity to speak out. The beauty of it however is that there is no hostility felt here, only tragedy. Toxic factors such as inequality and racial profiling certainly contributed to Grant being arrested on that BART station on January 1^st 2009 but they are the set dressing. The centrepiece is simply a man.

The film opens with the amateur footage of the incident bystanders captured on mobile phones. Making the ending abundantly clear and setting the tone of finality that hangs over the rest of the film. Everything Grant does, be it noble, ignoble, profound or mundane is seen through the lens as his final actions on earth.

Those actions walk a fine line between humanising Grant and deifying him. His last day is primarily one of endeavouring towards change as he attempts to regain his supermarket job, forgoes selling a quantity of cannabis large enough to pay his rent and adopts the wisdom of Oprah. The film takes the time to highlight what a struggle this is for Grant, with the financial demands of his family weighing down against the desire to rise above. It’s a conflict fully realised by leading man Michael B. Jordan, the sadness on his face as he confronts life’s hardships is truly precious.

Jordan is by far the highlight of the film, his casual charisma endearing us to Grant throughout, even in his darkest moments. The way he evades confrontation shows us a man who has committed wrongdoings out of weakness. To go back to ‘selling trees’ as he calls it would be taking the easy way out and the resolve on his face convinces us that he is determined to change.

The film is also thick with domestic mundanely that make Grant relatable. From being harangued by his mother for calling her while driving to slipping his daughter extra treats. The point, making us feel kinship with Grant, is heavy handed but the execution is not. In fact nothing about the film is too heavy handed, even when we finally make it to Fruitvale.

The BART officer that arrests Grant and his friends is the archetypical rage-fuelled beta male. Aggressive, hulking and casually discriminate, every horror story about police officers who abuse their authority made flesh. The twist though is that he is not the one who pulls the trigger.  That is left on Officer Ingram (Chad Michael Murray), a young, flustered and over-eager new cop who you can almost believe would mistake his gun for his Taser.  

While the film hinges on this final tragic moment it’s only made tragic by the joys and troubles injected by the supporting cast. Octavia Spencer makes Grants mother a much more complex character than your typical put-upon matriarch. With her friendly jabs at Grant we see a caring and sympathetic figure but one whose patience has a threshold. Her scene in a flashback to Grant in prison serves as one of the films highlights as she reluctantly turns her back on a son who refuses to change.

Melonie Diaz has little to do as Grant’s girlfriend Sophina besides voice the reasonable objections to Grant’s behaviour. But she sells the role as a frustrated wife and mother who’s also capable of listening, considering and forgiving. And credit where credit’s due the film manages to show Grant bonding with daughter Tatiana (Ariana Neal) without making it overtly saccharin.

Fruitvale Station is a film about nuance, presenting a character with human weaknesses on the final day of his life. It does not aim to provoke outrage or rally against injustice but simply inform on a very real tragedy.

Let's Hope Jimmy's Hall isn't Loach's Last Waltz

It's fitting that the general feeling that one comes away with after watching Ken Loach's maybe/maybe not final film is one of hope. The veteran filmmaker and Bath resident has spent decades defining the social realism genre with hard-hitting cinema verite fare like Kes and My Name is Joe. Films so stark and uncompromising they seem to have been filmed through a filter the colour of gravel. But social realism should never be an endless onslaught of misery for it is the sweet that makes the bitter so bitter and despite a backdrop of poverty, religious persecution and whippings (lest it be outdone by 12 Years a Slave) it may be Loach's sweetest film yet. 

The story is of troublemaker and Communist activist Jimmy Gralton (Barry Ward) who returns to his native Ireland in 1930 after a decade exiled in New York. While Jimmy insists he simply wants to live a quiet life on the family farm with his frail mother the glint of mischief remains in his eyes. That mischief takes the form of the tiny village's community hall which Jimmy had established years earlier but the church parish shut down over fears of Marxist indoctrination. The hall represents joy and hope for a community with no jobs, no means of education and no hope for the future. But the fears of indecency, anarchy and Communism are stirred by the church again, represented by the pious and rigid Father Sheridan (Jim Norton).

The clash of buttoned down religious figures and free-thinking hedonists may be cliched as Hell, Sheridan is after all played by Bishop Brennan, but the effect the church has on the community is effective nonetheless. Loach manages to taint the simple image of people leaving their pews with a sinister tone and the devastation felt by the characters is brought to the fore by fearful performances. The whipping exchanges the bloody body horror of 12 Years with the stilted, detached brutality of a documentarian. 

If there's one weak link it's regrettably Ward himself who, despite hardly leaving the screen, is never afforded the opportunity to communicate any kind of internal conflict. Here Gralton is an unambiguous folk hero, a figure of hope and courage with Wards performance easily able to light a fire in people's hearts. Instead the figure of ambiguity is found in Father Seamus (Andrew Scott) the young priest serving as the progressive counterpoint to Sheridan. It's a character that Scott presents as reserved and compliant, only passively voicing the rational arguments against Sheridan's zeal. It's only when the situation intensifies that he breaks, passionately and hopelessly observing how far Sheridan and his followers have fallen.

Like with most of Loach's work there appears to be little in the way of cinematic structure, for when does life progress so neatly. But there is an escalating sense of intensity that gradually builds with a balance struck between the harsh consequences and Graltons drive to continue the fight. While indeed true to life this does rob the final act of some of the emotional impact. Everything is taken from Gralton yet the film is rarely able to communicate the sadness in it all, instead swiftly moving to its conclusion. Even Father Sheridan's attempt at redemption, showing respect for Graltons courage and conviction, comes across as hollow.

Jimmy's Hall is a celebration of people's ability to find hope in the direst of circumstances and in that respect it succeeds. It may lack the nuance of a weightier character piece but it is an energetic and engrossing tale. The biggest hope that it inspires is that it is not the last we will see from Loach.

Transcendence, entirely descendent.

So yeah, Transcendence is every bit as stupid as you've heard and stupid in the worst kind of way. A badly written film that thinks if it just puts enough large words in the script while talking about distinctly smart subject matter it can pass for intelligent, thoughtful science fiction (e.g. Gattaca or Moon). But it can't, nothing about Transcendence holds up to any kind of basic scrutiny. It's got bad writing, bad characters, bad structure, bad editing, nice visuals though. This is after all the directional debut of beloved cinematographer Wally Pfister, the very reason film buffs were looking forward to this. Now they're probably wishing they hadn't gotten their hopes up. If Transcendence proves anything it's that film is a collaborative medium and one really talented guy at the helm isn't enough to make it hold together.

For what it's worth our protagonist is Will Caster (Johnny Depp) a brilliant and respected AI researcher but you'll have to take my word for since the film never bothers to establish his work or show how far it's developed. Instead he gives a speech on the concept and it is at this point that we see just how dumb the script is. The characters all talk about incredibly smart things like the singularity and transhumanism but in the broadest, vaguest terms possible. There's no detail provided, no indication of how far this research has come, no evidence that these people actually know what they're talking about. Hey screenwriter Jack Paglan! We've come to see a film about transhumanism, you don't need to dumb things down!

Anyway because of the informed dangers of his research Will is shot by a member of RIFT, a militant anti-technology group. That nuanced breed of neo-Luddite that's strangely comfortable using cars, cellphones and guns embedded with radioactive isotopes but what the hey right. The bullet leaves Will with weeks to live during which time his wife Evelyn (Rebecca Hall) and best friend, um.... *checks IMDB* Max (Paul Bettany) work to hook his brain up to the same sever used for his now scrapped sentient computer.

They succeed but are immediately discovered by RIFT, presumably by means of clairvoyance because even if they were able to hack the Caster's computer, which is established as being offline, how the hell do you process the uploading of brainwaves from a remote laptop? So they kidnap Paul Bettany and go to destroy the system but but not before Will is connected to the internet. Evelyn then flees...which is also strange as there's no way she could have known that RIFT were coming. Will never detected the hack and Paul Bettany never sent her a warning text.

In addition to being rife with plot holes and logical flaws this sequence forces the film to move at a breakneck pace when really it should be slowing down to allow Will and Evelyn to reconnect. While watching the film I found my mind going back to the Black Mirror episode Be Right Back, in which a widow used her husband's online footprint to recreate his voice and personality on the phone. In that story scenes were dedicated to the wife talking to the voice, allowing herself (and us) to become lost in conversation, only to sharply remind us that the husband was only a simulation. This is what Transcendence badly needed because all of Will and Evelyn's actions are motivated by their relationship. A relationship whose value we are never allowed to see and as a result cannot invest in.

The film then takes an epic leap forward in time as Evelyn moves out to the middle of nowhere to turn a blighted desert town into Wills personal solar-powered server farm. With infinite power and the collective knowledge of the internet Will is able to make huge scientific leaps in medicine and nano-technology. Eventually able to heal all ailments, clone a new body and built a personal Extremis-style army. Frightening stuff, so frightening you'd think it would attract huge attention from the military, media and general public. But no, even though the proof is posted online a miracle cure for the sick and disabled doesn't even get a hint of local news. And the military seems to be limited to exactly one guy whose only job is to arm RIFT to the teeth with more filthy, evil technological weapons. 

Oh and in the two years RIFT has managed to convert Paul Bettany to their side despite presenting no logical argument and the fact that there are way, way better equipped people to stop Will than a gang of hipsters. But hey, Bettany (yes I've given up trying to remember the characters name) needs to be there because he knows Will's source code and can use it to create a virus to destroy him. And it's not like the most intelligent being on earth with two years of planning would think of safeguarding his one weak spot is it?

Eventually they get Evelyn onside too, apparently she was cool with giving up their old life, staying confined to the desert and experimenting with innocent people but the moment Will started monitoring her bio signatures that was a step too far. Which is handy because the film needs a virginal sacrificial lamb to make the idiotic ending seem weighty and emotional. The plan being to give Evelyn a dose of Will's nanobots with the virus as Will now wants her to upload her brainwaves so that his transformation into the ship from Futurama can become complete.

Needless to say this tearjerker of an ending can't play out without the stupidity of the script coming to the fore. It's revealed that Will has cloned himself a body...which means I guess they can't do the upload? A firefight breaks out and RIFT uses Bettany as a hostage so Will has to choose between uploading the virus or healing Evelyn. I mean sure he doesn't need to do the upload, he can just heal Evelyn and be with her in the physical world but DAMMIT this is Paul Bettany's life that's at stake!

The film then tries to reconcile the stidity of its ending with an epilogue, showing the ripple effect of destroying Will has also killed the internet and most forms of technology. In stopping Will and Evelyn being together we have in fact driven ourselves apart. Which would be meaningful if we cared about Will or Evelyn or their relationship and if the things which drove them apart had any semblance of believability to it. Transcendence is a mess, a terrible debut for Pfister and likely to rank among the worst of 2014.

The Zero Theorem: Zero = 100%

Okay cards on the table first. Yes, Terry Gilliam's latest world of wonderful weirdness The Zero Theorem came out back in March, several weeks ago. You may also remember that it came out and screened in cinemas for about ten minutes before being shoved aside for the latest half-hearted Hunger Games/Twilight clone. But thanks to the good people at Bristol's Cube Cinema I was able to catch a screening last week, one well worth the trip to Stokes Croft.

I'm somewhat glad I was able to see this in the hindsight of Richard Ayoade's The Double because, while I mostly liked The Double, The Zero Theorem feels like the film it wants to be. A far more nuanced take on individuality built organically into the world of the film. And with a conclusion that offers a satisfying level of complexity for such a weighty subject.

The near-future of The Zero Theorem is one with an abundance of colour. Stark, neon colours carelessly plastered onto grey streets and glum people. Vibrant adverts register each member of the public, screaming offers of meaning at them yet acknowledge no one as an individual. The ostentatious aesthetics of Gilliam's world are embraced by people desperately seeking uniqueness, even if it is only an empty illusion.

The only one sharp to this is our protagonist Qohen Leth (Christoph Waltz) who despite his eccentricity and intellect knows he is not unique. He refers to himself with plural pronouns, dresses in the dreariest grey and is as bald as an unformed foetus. However despite his logical nature Qohen is a man of faith. Not religious faith, although living in a Christian Church, a monument to the original deification of the individual, suggests otherwise. Qohen has faith that a phone call is coming, not yet another cold call but one intended for him and him alone, one that will reveal his life's meaning.

Naturally then Qohen would prefer to work from home, which the shady spectre of 'Management' (Matt Damon) permits provided he can solve The Zero Theorem, a complex mathematical formula  that will determine if the universe is really for nothing. With Qohen at work it is a combination of Gilliam's absorbing direction of Waltz's frustrated performance that keep you watching. You'll be surprised how much sympathy can be wrought from watching a man fiddle with computer graphics on a screen but the aggressive anxiety of Qohen is both funny and sad. It helps of course that even the smallest prop is an oddity, adding an air of absurdity to an otherwise mundane narrative.

To break the flow of Qohen's misery comes the lascivious Bainsley (Melanie Thierry), a woman hired by Management to ease his mind via the virtual world. The chemistry between Waltz an Thierry is charming enough but it remains transparent throughout that this is an entirely artificial relationship. While Qohen is eventually willing to believe in it unfortunately we aren't. The relationship does crash in the end and it crashes hard, but had this been better built as something potentially genuine it might have resonated better with the audience.

The second interloper into Qohen's misery is Bob (Lucas Hedges), Management's teenage computer prodigy. Bob is the personification of individual potential, enormous talent with no clearly defined path even if the Orwellian Overloads are trying to pave one for him. Instead he indulges in base pleasures, lust and gluttony which eventually rubs of on Qohen. In many ways he is Qohen's opposite, seeing himself as individual while the rest of humanity is a nameless mass unworthy of the brain cells it would take to identify.

While Bainsley's influence on Qohen is intended to reinforce Qohen's worldview Bob eventually serves to break it. Forcing him to realise that his phone call is nothing but a delusion, that his life may truly be as meaningless as the universe itself. Bob's solution to the existential truth of reality is to placate himself with life's pleasures, to him his life has meaning. Managment's is entirely corporate, a business believes that nothing is for nothing as long as there is profit to be made. And for one brief moment Bainsley had found meaning in Qohen.

As Qohen's worldview and reality collapse around him it becomes clear that if existence does not matter then neither does agonising over it. The only meaning of any value to Qohen is that which he creates for himself. The film strands him in a virtual reality, or a dream it really no longer matters. But there he has control, he can create meaning, he can be one.

While there are some weaknesses to Qohen's story Gilliam's direction makes it feel like a seamless character journey. Flowing from scene to scene organically in a world which is both a visual joy and perfect reflection of the film's theme. Engaging, funny and poignant The Zero Theorem may not meet the success of it's spiritual predecessor Brazil but I feel it'll stand as one of the directors better works.

Calvary: Have the Father Dead jokes been done already?

Calvary is a film which showcases the best and worst traits of John Michael McDonagh's rising directorial talent. A funny, tensely paced black comedy with a protagonist both shar and endearing at its heart. A thought piece on the role of the Catholic Church in contemporary Ireland, the role of a good man in a world of cynicism. Possibly even, if the title is anything go by a rebelling of the story of Christ, though any disciples our protagonist might have are sorely absent.

The film blends dark humour with a foreboding sense of doom better than any film in recently memory. Practically a series of vignettes and a series with a killer opener (forgive me Father) at that. A sinister scene as Father James Lavelle (Brendan Gleeson) recieves a confessional from his future murderer. A promise to murder him next Sunday morning, for the collective sins of his church, with its dialogue dripping with contemptful remarks and blunt delivery. 

 Over the course of the week each new scene builds Father Lavelle's world and the dimensions to his character. His emotionally fragile daughter Fiona (Kelly Reilly) visiting from London following a suicide attempt. His fellow clergymen, one dismissively self-indulgent Bishop and an almost Dougal-esque fellow priest. And the ensemble of sinners in Lavelle's parish who provide much of the gallows humour. 

To this end McDonagh assembles a stellar cast of Irish actors, including Chris O'Dowd, Dylan Moran and Aiden Gillen (who Game of Thrones fans will recognise as Littlefinger). Considering the comic backgrounds of Moran and O'Dowd it's surprising how much menace can be squeezed out of each character. The entire cast gives each laugh a tense atmosphere knowing it could be coming from a potential murderer.

As the days countdown it becomes clear just how much vice permeates the village and how at odds Lavelle's good-nature is with the world around him. Sometimes the sins of the Catholic Church loom over the film like the rock of Benbulbin, other times they are thrown into dialogue like a shot in the face. Yet it seems even worse than that. These people have not simply lost faith in the church but in good people, in goodness itself. Perhaps that is McDonaghs real reasoning in setting out to kill Lavelle, destroying something pure so we can understand its value.

We may however never know as McDonangh is far too keen to encourage ambiguity over answers, more for artistic indulgence than anything genuine. Certain scenes and transitions seem edited in such a way to obscure perception to the point of seeming non sequitar at times. For example at one point Lavelle is boarding a plane intending to flee but changes his mind. But the next shot is simply Lavelle driving a car, with no indication that he's still in his own car returning to the village. It's a teething problem of rising directors, the understanding that establishing shots are not simply there to create atmosphere but to communicate story. Still it's none the less distracting.

At the end of the day though Calvary's biggest problem is a place where it matters most, the emotional stuff. Sure Father Lavelle is an endearing character, one most deserving of a happy ending but when it comes for the full emotional weight of the character the film simply doesn't pull it off like a punch to the gut. It's a variety of factors, while the wit is razor sharp the dramatic dialogue can be so cliche as to break immersion. Plus aforementioned ambiguity to Lavelle's decision means that while it's something we can understand it's not something we can crucially feel.

Calvary is a good film that flies close to greatness. Being at once a thoughtful character piece, commentary on a wealth of religious and social issues and one of the best black comedies of the year should be an accomplishment in itself. Unfortunately it can't tie all of it together we'll enough to rise above.

SPOILER WARNING

Another of the film's issues, which I feel is going to make or break the film for most, ties back to the issue of ambiguity but relates to important plot information that I didn't feel belonged in the whole review. So this part is staying separate for the benefit of anyone who reads this but is still interested in seeing the film.

So Father Lavelle arrives at the beach Sunday moning as instructed and is met by...Chris O'Dowd. Seriously, that's it. The film spends over ninety minutes teasing most of the village's men with this 'whodunit in potentia' only to seemingly pick one candidate at random. Undermining much of the emotional weight of everything the film has been building towards. But even after he pulls the trigger it's not over.

Sometime later we see O'Dowd receiving a visitor in prison, Fiona, who doesn't say anything but cries a little. Now there are two options as to what this means, either she was visiting to speak to O'Dowd, trying to gain understanding of what he did and see if she could forgive. Or the more interesting option, that she was visiting to confirm that he had done as instructed. That she had arranged her father to be killed and potentially had been the voice in the confessional simply using O'Dowd as a mouthpiece. 

This doesn't change the impact or quality of the film of course but it does bring new perspective to the scenes between Fiona and her dad. The idea that this wasn't simply a post-suicide visit but Fiona's final attempt to reconcile her issues with her father and the church which he now belongs to. Interesting but in the end only my personal speculation.

Ayoade Doubles Down on Success

When Richard Ayoade made his directorial debut with Submarine there was some truth to the revelation among critics that suddenly Moss from The IT Crowd was the next Wes Anderson. In addition to the emphasis on all the quaint, twee aesthetics of 1980s Welsh domesticity there was a nakedly unreal quality reminiscent of Anderson's work. In the case of Submarine it was highlighting its own unreality through the narrative framework of a diegetic biographical film seen from the protagonist, Oliver's, perspective.

In The Double however there's no symbiosis between the theme at play and the aesthetic quirkiness for which the film is likely to be noted for. Ayoade constructs a dreary world of wage-slave drudgery made up of clunky, beige machinery and harsh, blaring sound effects. But it's an incidental element this time not a part of its DNA and its presence can become something of a distraction. Admittedly t not as big a distraction as playing Spot the Jobbing British Actor as Ayoade reunites Submarine cast members Sally Hawkins, Noah Taylor, Craig Roberts, Paddy Considine and Yasmin Paige among others.

The film retains only the bones of the Dostoyevsky novel of the same name as office drone Simon James (Jesse Eisenberg) descends into madness upon the appearance of his doppelgänger James Simon (also Eisenberg). Even before the titular double enters the scene Simon finds himself losing proof of his identity. Acknowledged by virtually no one save angelic love object Hannah (Mia Wasikowska) the appearance of James more exacerbates an existing problem that the film spends the first third establishing.

Yes it has to be said that The Double starts off slow, to the point where it seems Jessie Eisenberg won't be able to carry the whole film. But as soon as Jessie Eisenberg shows up then the film gains whole new life. The chemistry between Eisenberg and Eisenberg is electrifying with Eisenberg's meek romantic a perfect foil for Eisenberg's sexually charged slacker.

Okay, in all seriousness Eisenberg nails both roles. Simon James and James Simon are dead-on visual representations of a talented actor's two major comedy personas. The former being the kind of pitiable Michael Cera-esque sad sack we've always known Eisenberg can perform in his sleep. As his more extroverted self though he's a rapid-fire Id, shooting off lines so fast it takes a moment to register that he's said something hilariously horrible. Providing the films biggest laughs in contrast to the stilted, apathetic British humour that permeates the rest of the film. 

That the film manages to maintain its comedic nature as the story veers into more dramatic and darker territory is a blessing. Though it clearly struggles at times, making ill-advised ventures into physical comedy that can't stick the landing. As his loss of identity grows and grows at the hands of James' machination Eisenberg's desperation comes to the fore. His position as the universe's whipping boy, a place where the film once found laughs, becomes a profound tragedy.

If only the same could be said of the ending. The film systematically eliminates the things which define Simon's identity; his appearance, his job, the people he cares about but has little to say about the concept itself. Our desire for identity is something that comes from our society, an overpopulated, over-bureaucratised world of drudgery where our own contribution can seem insignificant. The solution to the loss of this should be more than taking it back even if it is the most efficient for a visual medium.

A shallow ending should not put one off The Double however. It's a visually unique, funny and affecting film. A stand-out duel performance from Eisenberg and proof that Richard Ayoade will be a figure in British film for a while.

What goes on Under the Skin?

In case you were wondering Under the Skin is a film about how individuals are integrated into the collective mass of a species or social structure. Confused? Okay here's how it works; Scarlett Johansson and Paul Brannigan play what are implicitly aliens whose creation process is represented by a pinprick of light against a black background. Eventually the light disappears and the black mass is revealed to be a viscous sludge that is slowly surrounded by white, forming what resembles the human eye.

Throughout the first half the image of people entering and emerging from the all-encompassing blackness recurs. A dimly lit shot of a motorcyclist dressed all in black. The dark field from which Branigan retrieves the body that serves as Johansson's template. Most notably of course is the environment which Johansson's alien seductress takes a series of victims back to. Always male, always young.They all sink into the darkened pool from which she first emerged and now glides across like Christ on the Sea of Galilee.

In fact while she does not sink she is still amalgamated into the darkness of the shadows until her victims disappear and she can walk back into the light seemingly never breaking stride...until she can't.   Like everything else in the film it's never made explicitly clear what happens but one encounter with a pitiable deformed man detaches her from the whole. Forced to look at herself as an individual for the first time she lets him go.

In deviating from the programme she detaches from the mass. The image then becomes an all encompassing white, in the form of either fog or snow. And yet she can never fully integrate with it as she did with the black. Eventually she is taken in by a good Samaritan (A cliched sequence that forms the films weakest act) who offers some respite. But when the time comes to consummate their relationship, they can't. Presumably it is a function her artificial body lacks.

Unable to connect to the only person she has left she wanders into the woods, alone. And there she dreams of a connection to this world. In the films most beautiful shot she is superimposed onto the landscape of the forest, intimately bound to nature. Then she is brutally pulled out of it by a sexual predator. A reminder that while sex can connect us to humanity it can also tear us away. They fight and in the struggle her true form is revealed. A black skelatal arrangement of stiff, coarse limbs. 

In horror her attacker pours kerosene over her lights it. She stumbles forward and collapses into the snow. Finally given the one universal link to all creatures, death.

So is the film good? Well that depends on your tolerance for extraneous artistic indulgence as the film is loaded with abstract, sometimes non sequitar imagery. 

The premise at least brings intrigue delivered in a meaner both hypnotic and suspenseful as you see a predator becoming more and more adept at luring its prey. All of which has a suitably grisly payoff. However the story suffers from falling into the regressive archetype of the femme fatale using sexuality as a weapon. Plus the white knight coming to her aid feels overly romanticised, especially given the way in which it falls apart. all of which suggest that director Jonathan Glazer doesn't know how to explore the concept to its fulfillment.

In a way unique to the role Johansson is perfectly cast. Her doll-like beauty and imperfect accent all work to suggest a rough approximation of a human being. Which goes along way to remaining onside with the character as the film get progressively slower. Johansson imbues the character with enough inhuman mannerisms the suggest her actions are our of programming as opposed to malice. Ironically her inhumanity is what makes her second act development empathetic.

At the end of the day Under the Skin is food for the mind but not the soul. Yes it's all very interesting to think about how we integrate as an entire species but there's usually some emotion to anchor that integration. Emotion that the film consistently lacks when really it should be about discovering it. .