Doctor Strange or How I Learned to Stop Worrying

Yeah, that joke is probably played out by now but it speaks to an inherent truth about the film itself. Doctor Strange is a flawed, flawed film. In its structure, writing, composition, even (and I cringe at saying this) in the performances of its actors. But to say that is to make the situation sound far worse than it is because Doctor Strange is the first film sin Star Wars: The Force Awakens that a film holds together in spite of its flaws. Perhaps it's a critics thing; the fact is that everything that's good about Strange is the kind of by-the-numbers, playful light show that Marvel has been excelling at for eight years now. The bad stuff is just far more interesting to delve into from a critical standpoint and if you're not interested in critique then it's easy to stop worrying and enjoy the ride. That's OK, it's a fun ride. There's just room to improve it.

A good start would have been the opening. An arbitrary action beat to pump up momentum, which it needs to do since the next 90 minutes will be relatively action-free. It feels like a cynical move on Marvel's part, assuming a goldfish-level attention span on the part of its audience. Especially egregious as the proceeding two acts are infinitely more compelling than any amount of building-shifting CGI. Like all the best Marvel films the plot is driven by character and in Cumberbatch's mangled hands Strange is a character to follow halfway across the world. Admittedly the establishing scenes do wear out their welcome. Character actor Michael Stuhlbarg is always a welcome sight but the film dedicates too much time to him as Strange's pre-crash whipping boy. A clumsy demonstration of the pride that goes before his fall.

Then there's the fall itself. It's no easy feat showing a man with so much losing everything until we have to choice but to sympathise. Ironically the result is as hollow as Strange's luxury apartment, compounded by the token presence of Rachel McAdams' in the role of Christine. Make no mistake, McAdams acquits herself well but it's painfully clear throughout that this character only exists as a sounding board for Strange's emotions and expositions.

No the film never really takes off until an hour in when Strange finally arrives at what is basically Nepalese Hogwarts, for an extended training montage. It's there that the film can really show off it's USP; a succession of visually inventive acid trips/magical mind journeys meant to communicate Strange's journey. Strange's arc harks back to Marvel Phase 1 territory; in which a talented egomaniac finds the means and drive to use their great potential for something good. In this case instead of applying his brilliant mind to saving lives as a neurosurgeon, Strange discovers he can save entire dimensions by applying himself to the mystical arts.

It's here that Cumberbatch endears himself to us. Presenting a man accustomed to being the best in his field now held back by doubt, in both his situation and himself. With each victory bringing a visually unique delight. Delights which only increase as Strange's rebuilds his self-confidence. It's not exactly Neo learning to accept the unreality of The Matrix but rather typical Marvel fun.

Eventually though the film has to build to a traditional climax involving a face-off against Strange's polar opposite. In this case Mads Mikkelsen as the guylinered Kaecilius whoese motivations are typically all-encompassing and vague for a Marvel villain. A rogue pupil of Tilda Swinton's Ancient One, using the mystical arts to summon a malevolent god to bring the universe to a plain of infinite life...and you know what it doesn't matter. By now everyone knows Marvel's terrible track record of villains. Not to mention the fact that their films are more about heroism being an outlet for flawed men (for it is always men) to resolve their personal baggage.

Strange makes that thing clear more than anything as it proceeds to run out the clock with a series of impressive set pieces and effects sequences. Even the heavily promoted shots of New York City folding in on itself ultimately does nothing to move the plot along.

And then there's the ending, a clever piece of abstract thinking in which Strange traps the Dark god Dormammu in an infinte loop of time. Only releasing him if he leaves Earth and takes Kaecilius with him. It's a clever solution but dogged by a hurried execution. There's an opportunity for an entire Groundhog Day of scenes in which Domammu tries to torture Strange into releasing him, then maybe ignoring him, toying with him maybe even reasoning with him. Imagine Strange whining about his relationship troubles to a god who exists beyond space and time. Imagine Dormammu relenting, abandoning his conquest of Earth just to be rid of Cumberbatch. Instead Dormammu just tortures Strange for a few minutes before getting bored. Undermining any power he may have possessed as a villain.

It's an ending indicative of the quality of Doctor Strange; a film full of good ideas that could have been so much better. Cumberbatch cuts himself a distinctive character in a universe already brimming with compelling leads. And despite their lack of impact the various visual effects feel original, fun and inventive. The pieces are all great, just muddled in the way they're put together.

Hail, Caeser! A Story of The Coens

While the Coen Brothers are undeniably the big success story of America's independent film industry, a talented writer/director duo able to make unique arthouse films to huge popularity, they have always had more success at drama than comedy. No Country for Old Men is probably their most mirthless film, lacking even in the kind of gallows humour that made Fargo so watchable.Yet it's one of their most successful, both critically and commercially. When people bring up the comedic craftsmanship of the Coens they will always point to The Big Lebowski, which rightfully stands as one of the all time greats. However outside of The Dude lies the likes of Burn After Reading, Hudsucker Proxy and, dare we say it, Intolerable Cruelty. Yes, The Coens always produce great films but their success in dramatic films, even ones with strong comedic moments, has always been more consistent.

So it's a delight then to report the Hail,Caeser! is perhaps the most definitively successful comedy since The Big Lebowski. At once a love letter and take-down of classic Hollywood that takes one of the industry's least reputable figures and presents him as its biggest advocate. In fact Hail, Ceaser!'s biggest achievement is taking some of the worst representations of the Studio System and finding nuance and even virtue in them.

As with most Coen protagonists E.J. Mannix (Josh Brolin) is the one at the centre of a cast of neurotics, narcissists and dimwits. He's a 'fixer' covering for the scandals his stars bring and resolving the interference from outside sources. We follow Mannix as he attempts to deal with the shenanigans caused by said narcissists during a day of shooting. One of the most compelling things about Mannix though is how he's managed to apply his catholic faith to an occupation fuelled by vice and indulgence. He believes in the value of film, the artistry, the effect it has on culture, on people. Hail, Ceaser! is fundamentally a film about faith and Mannix's faith in his work is steadfast in the face of temptation, in the face of doubt, even in the face of all evidence that he is wrong.

Brolin portrays Mannix with the facade of all the tough guy roles he's played before. Stern, forceful, towering over even the likes of Clooney. Yet all too easily the facade breaks and you see the doubt and temptation crawl over him. You sympathise with his guilt and his desire to flee the gaudy circus when a Lockheed executive approaches him with a lucrative job offer. For all Mannix's intimidation and manipulation he's is one of the most likeable protagonists the Coens have written in some time.

Mannix's main concern is the production of biblical epic Hail, Caeser! already troubled by the picture's dimwitted star Baird Whitlock (George Clooney) and the approval of the religious community. The first is resolved in a masterful early scene where heads of various faiths debate the nature of Christ, eventually descending into nitpicking and rambling in front of an increasingly exasperated Mannix. Then the real drama happens when Whitlock is kidnapped and production has to be halted.

While this is the plot you've all seen from the trailers in truth it's only one part of a story built on smaller subplots. The abduction story merely serves as the connective tissue to a series of petty disagreements and tabloid disasters that Mannix is forced to intervene in. From Scarlett Johannssen's starlet falling pregnant with a married man's child to Alden Ehrenreich's capable but awkward cowboy actor roped into a high society drama.

The laughs come thick and fast courtesy of the Coens' delightful dialogue and characterisation. The fact that all these characters are in conflict and yet are obligated to be amenable to each other means no scene is short of tension or wit. Jokes built on the ridiculous necessity to wear a 'fish ass' for work or an editor almost being choked to death by her own film reels are delivered with expert timing and instantly memorable performances. Each setpiece is so well realised as both a classic Hollywood scandal and classic Hollywood production that it's no wonder critics would have rather saw the films Capitol is making than the shenanigans in between.

Once the mysterious cult holding Whitlock reveals itself as The Future, the pieces quickly fall into place regarding the larger meaning at play. Lockheed pursues Mannix with warnings that his career in film is a thing of the past. Not exactly an exageration when you realise exactly when the film is set, when the studio system is facing it's collapse, when the ubiquity of television is on the horizon and the atomic bomb threatens to destroy everything. Whitlock's abductors may be hapless Communists but they serve as the manifestation of his spiritual conflict.

Mannix may have complete and utter faith in the frivolity of Hollywood but that faith is at odds with the reality ahead of him. And yet it's the epitome of that frivolous world that is the source of his salvation. A surprise turn from Hobie Doyle in which Ehrenreich receives his pay-off for having owned every scene as the dullard dust actor. It is through is actions that Mannix's faith in the righteousness of Hollywood is restored and he can return to work a more contented man. In leaving him so the Coens' finally deliver a satisfying conclusion that we leave the happier for.