The Woman In Black

I’d seen two different versions of The Woman In Black before I settled into the cinema for this recent offering. The first was a made-for-TV movie that absolutely scared the living blazes out of me (I was very young, OK!) and the second was when I went to see the theatrical play version of it (luckily as an adult and so didn’t run screaming out of the auditorium). For what is basically a simple story (the ghostly woman in black haunts an old house) each version had a different spin on the plot, and different scares. And so it was fun to see this new version also managed to wring out a different angle on what was familiar to me to keep the thing fresh and interesting.

Most reviews can’t hesitate to point out that this is Daniel Radcliffe’s first role outside of the Harry Potter franchise. It’s true that the boy wizard casts a hefty shadow for him to try and escape from. For me this was certainly his best on-screen acting and perhaps the only detractor was really down to his age. A rarity in movieland, Radcliffe is actually younger than the character he is portraying on-screen. Given that he already possesses youthful looks and is still ingrained in the consciousness as a boy wizard it’s a tough sell to push him as a grown-up father, who has been married and widowed and now lives with the depressed grief like a heavy cloak. He does the best he can and it’s admirable work, but I imagine a Radcliffe three or four years older would have been considerably more convincing.

Radcliffe plays Arthur Kipps, the aforementioned widower who is charged with tying up the administrative affairs of a recently-deceased woman. With a strict boss demanding that Kipps prove his worth by completing the matter thoroughly, it is this motivation that has him defy the local townsfolk who plainly want him gone from their town and muster the will and perseverance to visit the old house and see matters through.



The town, it transpires, is gripped by fear of the woman in black. The local myth has it that if she is ever seen, even so much as in a glance, then a child dies soon after. Arthur’s visit to the house will, naturally, cause him to see more than just a glance and as terrible tragedies occur, and the threat to his own son enters into the matter, Arthur endeavours to discover the truth about this mysterious woman and find some resolution for this vengeful, restless spirit.

The Woman In Black in story is about as traditional a Victorian ghost story as you can imagine. The film adheres to that, with few special effects entering the frame (I found the ones present out of place, too) and a familiar-feel to the old English town of cobbles, horses and suspicious characters. You know exactly what you’re getting, but since few of these stories are told anew these days, and classic horror like this fell out of favour decades ago (it’s so fitting that Hammer Studio has returned with this as its comeback vehicle) it feels refreshing. In an age of pounding music, fast edits, buckets of gore or found-footage principles it’s invigorating to see a movie that has the confidence to take its time, build up suspense through atmosphere and suggestions and then deliver truly heart-jolting scares.



What The Woman In Black wants to be is the cinema equivalent of a ghost train ride at the funfair. It certainly delivers in an extended sequence when Arthur spends the night alone in the house. From day through to night there is little spoken word and a constant influx of scary event, increasing in threat with a quite marvellous escalation in pressurised intensity. From bangs in unseen rooms, to silhouettes and faces lurking in the background or popping up momentarily, to the sight of something unwelcome climbing out of the ground and heading towards the front door. . . Director James Watkins marshalls the centrepiece thrills with unflinching clarity and exquisite timing.

The set design of the house is also really quite special, with terribly creepy ornaments and furnishings (check out the most ghastly collection of child’s bedtime playthings on display in the master’s bedroom) that allow the eponymous ghost to blend in, out of focus, in the background of shots (indeed, I expect there may have been one or two subtle appearances of the woman in black during proceedings that I missed). Anyone who has seen the stage show will know how iconic and effective the use of a rocking chair can be, and it’s put to good use here also, in one sequence that generated perhaps the biggest screams of the night. And it’s true that there’s a lot to be said for catching this movie with a dull cinema audience; the sense of shared atmosphere and event felt when a whole room of hundreds jumps and shrieks and then nervously giggles afterwards are really what it’s all about when people discuss cinema as an experience.



It should also be noted, however, that the presence of Radcliffe has perhaps misguided parents and youngsters into believing this is a movie for them. The lowered age rating has certainly helped it at the box office, but I suspect there’s a good number of younger children who have been given nightmares and upset as a consequence of going to see this. Make no mistake, this is a proper horror film with serious jump-scares and unsettling imagery and events. There isn’t anything like a softly-softly approach to cushion things for all ages, and only an ending few minutes that perhaps ought to have been cut for a more stark, hopeless conclusion offers anything like respite from the bitterness.

For the third time then, I faced The Woman In Black. Certainly this version is as faithful to the source material as anyone could reasonably hope for, and if it signals a return to a more accomplished, old-fashioned style of horror getting back in fashion then that’s fine with me. With The Woman In Black back it means cracking, spinepchilling horror is back. Expect pretenders to the throne, but this woman is the true queen of horror.

Star Wars Episode 1 – The Phantom Menace 3D

I can’t imagine there’s much requirement for me to relay too much about this movie. Not only are there tremendously good odds that you’ve already seen it (you’re looking at a movie review site on the Internet, you fit the demographic!) there’s good chance you’ve already got a well-formed, cemented opinion about it. So the likelihood is you heard the news that The Phantom Menace was the first movie to be released in 3D and, every year onwards, the subsequent episodes will be released.

Likelihood is your reaction was one of cynical repulsion (why not release the good original trilogy episodes first instead of making us wait!?), indifference or a renewed enthusiasm. Mine was very much the latter because, unlike the vast majority of the online fanboys, I always enjoyed The Phantom Menace.

You want to debate that? Fair enough. But make your arguments good, my friend.



Don’t get me wrong, I am not blind to the movie’s faults. The script isn’t always brilliant (worst part, for sure, has to be Anakin Skywalker asking Padme if she’s “an angel” – seriously, George Lucas, that is truly ripe dialogue landed from another universe) and making the chief conflict about trade federation tax disputes is just about the dumbest thing you ever heard. This is Star Wars! Why is the opening crawl blathering on about business-related export sieges?

(The answer is that the Trade Federation is being paralleled with the Empire that will eventually emerge in episode IV-VI. The parallel is fine, but it still doesn’t stop the subject matter being utterly dull. Considering when Episode I begins it can start anywhere and have anything occur it’s a really bad first mis-step that cripples proceedings.)

The major scapegoat usually hauled over the coals when The Phantom Menace is getting ripped is, of course, Jar Jar Binks. On this matter I think a mountain has been made out of a molehill and, basically, it’s a lot of older fans of the movie completely disregarding the truth that Star Wars is, was and forever will be a family saga. Every cinema I saw The Phantom Menace in, including this recent 3D version, every single audience contained children who could be heard gleefully giggling and repeating what the clumsy buffoon said. You may not like Binks but a lot of the younger generation did. Grow up. Deal with it. He’s not a movie-ruiner.

The other major bugbear is the introduction of Midichlorians to explain ‘the force’. Again, it’s not a movie-ruiner but, really, it would have been better left unexplained. There’s no harm in keeping ‘the force’ as how Alec Guiness described it in A New Hope, as the mysterious energy that binds the universe together. To reduce the elegant unknown into an explanation that conjures images of nanobots isn’t of benefit.

So that’s a lot of negative, but if you just sit back and let the movie play on its own terms and not what you expect then you’ll find The Phantom Menace to be nothing short of a rousing blockbuster that gets a whole lot more right than you perhaps remember. Indeed, I reckon it to be a better movie than Attack Of The Clones (now that’s a movie where bad script and bad dialogue really take the wind out of its sails).

For the people that pay attention, the 3D version of The Phantom Menace is the same cut that debuted on DVD/blu-ray, meaning it has an extended 2nd lap sequence of the pod race alongside more introductions for the other racers, and more shots of Coruscant by transport. The Coruscant part is pretty, but negligible, yet the extra pieces of the pod race are rather action-packed and spectacular (they do, just a tad, drag the pacing a little, which perhaps explains their original omission).



The 3D itself is a fair translation; only one ‘in your face’ gimmick is used when Anakin waves a magnetic tool towards camera, and everywhere else there’s depth to be perceived if you focus on it. Fact is, though, the 3D becomes largely negligible precisely because you zone out noticing it. The film looks good, is the bottom line, and the 3D perhaps augments that but it certainly doesn’t inhibit or distract from things.

Amidst the slew of hate for The Phantom Menace let’s talk about some things often forgotten. How about the design and realisation of the alien worlds? Naboo’s surface has a beautiful, renaissance architecture, whilst the underwater Gungan city is a fantastic dome-centric, otherworldly place. Praise also to Coruscant, the planet city; often-copied since and perhaps familiarity has diminished what is an eye-popping realisation. Praise also the sound design, from lightsabre hums and clashes, to pod race explosions, to Trade Federation missiles hitting Gungan shields – your cinema sound system pounds out these amazing aural delights and really make it an experience.



Let’s not forget John Williams’ score, either. Pretty much eschewing all of the original trilogy’s body of thematic work, here you already know ‘Duel Of The Fates’ ranks right up there with the most incredible pieces of music in the saga, but there’s so much else to it. The dramatic intensity of the music cue ushered in on the 3rd lap when Anakin’s pod part comes loose; the proto-imperial theme of the Trade Federation; Anakin’s theme (actually a flattened out, string-lead version of the Imperial Death March); the stirring, soaring cue when first escaping Naboo and it falls on R2-D2’s heroic first appearance to get our heroes safely through the blockade. It is, in short, a triumphant score.

If, having properly appreciated all of that stuff, you want to straight out tell me The Phantom Menace is absolutely awful then you and I are going to struggle to see eye to eye.

The movie also houses an utterly epic four-way finale, boasting arguable the series’ best ever lightsabre duel between Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and the iconic Darth Maul. Seriously, you see those fight sequences and still come out grumbling how the movie sucks and my response is, fine, suit yourself, sulk all you want – you’re missing out.



From the moment the Emperor (who, in case you never realised, actually is the phantom menace of the title) states, “Wipe them out. All of them”, The Phantom Menace explodes into an exhilarating climax. There’s Padme and Panaka conducting an assault on the palace, Anakin in a ship bumbling around to take down the Trade Federation base, and the Gungan versus Trade Federation army battle. And, of course, all intercut with the aforementioned epic Jedi vs Sith duel. It lacks the emotional, fist in the air catharsis of A New Hope’s Death Star destruction but for sheer bang for your buck it’s spectacular stuff.

Praise also the pod race. The grandstanding sequence of the movie, it’s perfectly built-up (the stakes keep getting piled on, there’s a race rival in Sebulba, Anakin hasn’t ever finished a race. . .) so when it blasts off it’s already got you rooting for a win. I have to say that over 10 years later the effects still look absolutely staggering. All across the board in fact, a decade has barely dated the CGI of The Phantom Menace. If it was released fresh today you’d still call it state of the art, and the pod race in particular deserves special credit.

Going in for this 3D revisit (I dearly wish I could have been taking my son to experience Star Wars for the first time but at 15 months he is, alas, a tad too young!) I expected I would enjoy it. Turned out I more than enjoyed it, I was absorbed back into the simple thrill of the thing the moment that fanfare blared out that momentous theme. Fanboys and miserable nitpickers can grumble and complain, I don’t care. This was Star Wars! On the big screen! In 3D! I utterly, utterly loved it. And the great news for happy fans like me is that the best is yet to come. . .

Chronicle

Chronicle is one of those movies that slips through previews under the radar, generates little buzz before its released and then suddenly it’s all great reviews, terrific word of mouth and a lot of anticipation. At time of writing it’s already looking like the very definition of a sleeper hit, and I’m pleased for it. Chronicle may be, on the surface, considered a fusion of the superhero genre in the well-used ‘found footage’ style of movie but that would skirt over that it is, first and foremost, a straight out cracker.

As stated, Chronicle utilises the ‘found footage’ style. Lead character Andrew (Dane DeHaan) has decided to document his life on film. It’s a decision that appears to be borne out of a need to record, indeed chronicle, what he endures (opening scene has his drunken father pounding angrily at the door, only warded away by hearing it’s all being filmed) but may also be a form of document to present to his mother, herself suffering through the latter stages of terminal cancer.

Andrew’s home life is evidently, not a happy one. And his sadsack demeanour only makes him a target for bullies and provokes a severe lack of friends. Only his cousin Matt (Alex Russell) is anything like a close friend and it is him who drags him to the barn party that will change his fate entirely.



Matt, and popular classmate Steve (The Wire’s young Wallace, Michael B. Jordan), break away from the party and discover a hole in the ground omitting an irregular pulse. Investigating leads them to a strange discovery – a weird throbbing object that reacts with them, sending them away. Later they’ll realise they have become imbued with telekinetic powers; the capacity to move objects with their minds. This power will grant them unique and unexpected powers, and grow increasingly stronger the more they use it.

That’s set the set-up and, due to the natural camera footage, grounded performances and gritty opening, Chronicle is reality-based very firmly so that the exploration and demonstration of powers feels organic and believable. From constructing buildings with Lego, to monkeying around with supermarket trolleys, the three develop and explore their potential. It’s only when a near-fatal incident occurs (forebodingly performed by Andrew, finally realising he is no longer a victim) does it occur that they need rules and discipline to temper and control themselves.



As every hero fan knows, with great power comes great responsibility. Unfortunately, Chronicle’s troubled young Andrew may not be superhero material. . .



Dane DeHaan gives a vivid performance as Andrew, allowing us to try and comprehend his inner turmoil and initial desperate powerlessness. One scene with him sat at his computer sticks in my mind. His father (Michael Kelly) angrily walks in behind him, shouts, and then delivers one punch to the side of his son’s head. It’s not a Hollywood punch; it’s a horrible, flat, blunt hit that knocks Andrew off his chair. The father shouts something else and leaves. The camera that had been switched on the whole time remains dispassionately fixed as Andrew sits back on his chair, snivelling with impotent rage. It’s horribly brilliant because it feels real.

The script by Max Landis (son of John; hang your head in shame if you don’t know who he is!) actually sticks to a rigid, well-worn three arc superhero structure, aside from a third act where normally the ‘hero’ puts their newfound powers to their biggest test. The same is true here, with our main characters realising tremendous potential, but there’s no villains to set themselves against. The enemy here is themselves. Apart from a mid-section shock that felt mishandled (a sharp cut to a funeral reveals the fate of a character and it feels like a clumsy surprise) the script has a really organic flow about it despite sticking to the formula.

The use of natural cameras provides some of the more interesting and simultaneously debilitating aspects of the film. It would be spoiling nothing to state that since our key characters develop the skills to move objects with their mind then the camera also becomes used in that sense, allowing for more fluid and dynamic shots than you’d regularly get with this genre. Thing is, when the camera is cut loose from the handheld necessity the question did emerge for me: Why bother with the convention at all?

Why not just use a regular camera? Sure, you might have to come up with a different title for the movie but, really, I’m not sure a whole lot else would have been lost barring the element of surprise. You don’t expect ‘found footage’ films to be shot this well (in truth lots of the scenes look way more polished than natural amateur footage would) and there’s a wow factor in that, definitely. But Chronicle isn’t just depicted by one camera – any lens in the environment can be used; be it CCTV or, later in the movie, camera in cop cars and helicopters, or people’s mobile phones.

The slavish requirement to adhere to this internal conceit does strain the movie occasionally. When things go really crazy towards the end it must have been a headache for all concerned to maintain the conceit whilst also keep the action and dialogue on screen. At times I just wished it hadn’t needed to stick to the formula and was just able to show me what was going on. For example, a love interest called Casey improbably carries a video camera around for her blog, allowing for intimate conversation to be aired that otherwise couldn’t be shown - it definitely pushes credulity because, basically, the times and ways the camera gets used just sometimes look defiantly ridiculous.

It’s purely a technical problem, and it’s basically a trade off for which Chronicle mostly gets the better deal. What it is hampered by in clumsy camera appearances it more than makes up for with some amazing and thrilling first person views, pretty much all of which I don’t want to discuss so as to avoid spoiling the surprise. Big shout out for the most riotous in-car sequence I’ve ever seen; this film will put you right in a vehicle that gets flung vigorously far and high to dizzying effect, and that’s just one example. The rest you can experience for yourself.



No doubt director Josh Trank has put an amazing-looking film together, with a near microscopic budget in comparison to major blockbuster releases. Some of the effects may wander into uncanny valley territory but for the most part they are spot on; subtle when they need to look totally realistic and dazzling when drawn on to provide real bang for your buck. The low-key opening section only serves to make the latter end fireworks all the more spectacular. When you see movies like this it makes you wonder what $200 million dollar budgets actually get spent on.

I really enjoyed Chronicle. I went in expecting a spectacular found footage riff on the superhero genre and got as much, if not more, than I expected. I didn’t anticipate the gritty drama that would fuel the main character and, aside from a few technical hitches typical of the style, found the whole thing seamlessly entertaining. Chronicle takes two well-worn movie genres – found footage and superhero – and blends them into something you ought to go and see, chronic!

The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo

Before you ask, no, I’ve not read the book. But, to my credit, I have seen the original Swedish version of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo and, to be honest, that created a reservation about going seeing this remake. However, this was David Fincher directing and not holding back on the strong, adult material he was marshalling, so that and the interest in seeing how it was handled differently prompted me to go along and check it out.



First things first, then, which is the better film: the original or the remake? Honestly, there’s not a lot between them. The biggest difference is the remake extends the ending with a new coda (that may or may not be in the book – I don’t know). As I wasn’t expecting it I felt the extended scenes and plot tie-ups felt tacked on, but Mrs. Comet, who hadn’t seen the original, didn’t feel the same and watched it with the view that it made perfect sense being there. I suspect if I were to ever watch the remake again I’d feel the same – that it is more ‘complete’ and that, indeed, the Swedish version actually ends too soon.

The story for those unaware of the books and the original movie centres on two characters who, initially, have little to do with each other. Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig) is a journalist just nailed in court for libel and disgraced. He is hired by reclusive millionaire businessman Henrik Vanger (Christopher Plummer) to investigate the disappearance of his niece, that will involve prodding into the dark history of the entire Vanger family. Eventually Blomkvist needs a research assistant, which brings Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara) into his life; a troubled but exceptionally-intelligent young woman. Together the two form an unlikely alliance in attempting to uncover the mystery.



‘The Girl’ is the big draw, and all eyes were on Rooney Mara to see if she could even hope to replicate the phenomenal work done by Noomi Rapace. For me, Mara doesn’t just compete with the work on the original, she surpasses it. Unrecognisable from the girl who was Mark Zuckerberg’s obsession in The Social Network, Mara delivers a career-defining performance. Clipped, Swedish accent (indeed the only one who doesn’t bother to affect Swedish-English is Daniel Craig, and he sticks right out of place because of it), consistently hunched posture and a dewy-eyed vulnerability masking anger and hurt. ‘The Girl’ is an utterly fascinating character and here, on screen, she feels sparingly used and you’re unable to peel your attention off her when she’s around.



Daniel Craig fares less well. The lack of accent, as already mentioned, I can only assume was asserted as an arrogant dismissal of the need for it, perhaps aligned with a lack of ability to pull it off. I do like his work but I get the impression that Daniel Craig is a bit of a prick in real life. Credit where it’s due, he paints his Mikael Blomkvist in shades of weakness and selfishness, as well as tenacity and decency. It’s a leading man role that plays second fiddle to the leading lady in everything but screentime. I suppose my only real difficulty was that, because it’s Daniel Craig, it was hard not see Daniel Craig and fully invest in the character he was portraying.



Assembled around the two leads is a solid cast of familiar faces from Robin Wright (looking old but doing it gracefully) and Joely Richardson (really nailing a very difficult portrayal), but it’s the Vanger family in all their curious inter-relations, lack of friendships and horrible histories that linger in the memory. For what is ostensibly a ‘whodunnit’ mystery there’s rather a lack of legitimate suspects on display, meaning the reveal doesn’t come as a big surprise – but the skill here is that by the time you’re a step ahead in figuring out who did it the tension is being ratcheted up entirely because you know before the characters in peril do.

And what a surprise it was to find myself tense and thrilled, despite having seen the original and knowing what happens. Apart from an attention-grabbing, pounding opening credits – without question Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross deliver a far better soundtrack than the original – that plays like an S&M-influence James Bond title sequence, David Fincher mostly reins in the showy tricks of Fight Club and Panic Room for more effective direction.

Example: A key, memorable rape scene (memorable for unpalatable reasons but what a primal performance from Mara) sees Fincher have his camera leave the room, door slammed shut. We know the terrible deed will happen and believe we’ve been shut out now, spared it, drifting away to the next scene – only then we’re thrust right back into the room, not allowed such an easy way out. Cool views from the back of a motorcycle helmet and the inside of a plastic bag show Fincher has tricks up his sleeve, but he’s developed an assured technique to wrangle these in an unfussy manner that ranks him as one of the best film-makers around today.

In truth there’s very little here that fans of the original are going to derive much from. If anything, all involved here have simply made a terrific film that inures them from criticism that it was an unnecessary remake in the first place. For those that haven’t seen the original then what they are going to find with The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo is a rare example of a proper, quality adult film, mixed up in a crowdpleasing thriller with a central performance from Mara that deserves unending praise. If everyone involved here wants to go ahead and ‘play with fire’ and even ‘kick the hornet’s nest’ then I’ll gladly see this girl again.

Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol

Controversial as it may or may not sound, I was of the opinion that Mission: Impossible 3 was the best instalment of the franchise. Furthermore, I also rated it as one of the best set-piece action movies of recent times. The opening rescue becoming a helicopter chase to the bridge-exploding kidnap to the skyscraper plummeting, it was a custom-built, excellent action movie. Full stop. So whilst each of the Mission: Impossible movies have had their own distinct style (arguably dictated by a new, strong director each time out) I was rather hoping that Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol wouldn’t stray too far from the blueprint of its predecessor.

It didn’t. It doesn’t. And whilst this fourth entry might not deliver as many action beats and has a weaker villain, it hits bar raising heights that supersede what went before. Put short, Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol is a storming action movie and just about as much blockbuster fun as you could reasonably expect from a visit to the cinema.



Plot? It’s almost James Bond levels of superfluous. There’s a bad guy out to do bad things involving nuclear weapons and world destruction. The good guys, meanwhile, have had their organisation disavowed meaning they are on their own. So there’s Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise), accompanied by foxy field agent Carter (Paula Patton). Simon Pegg returns as Benji, this time upgraded to be active in the field (and as excitable about it as can be to amusing effect) and new to the group is analyst Brandt (Jeremy Renner) who just might be more than the database brained logician he at first appears to be. . .



I liked all four of them, which was crucial to my enjoyment. Cruise knows Ethan Hunt inside out and, whilst he does little here that advances the character as depicted previously, that’s no bad thing. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Simon Pegg might appear a tad too clownish too often, but considering he’s the only member of the group with comic licence it’s not intrusive. Jeremy Renner also impresses – he sells what is really a contradictory personality and makes him highly sympathetic. And as for Paula Patton, where did she come from? My God! A scene where she is required to dress up to seduce a target had even Tom Cruise giving her a once-over double take. She’s not just about the amazing looks here but, wow, what looks!



The four leads make for a great gang, really. There’s a nice dynamic between them all and, with the functions they perform, a sense that together they can just about accomplish anything. Having Benji fresh and new in the field also allows us as an audience to appreciate an infiltration exercise with an extra level of tension; he doesn’t behave as a polished action hero and there’s every chance he might make a critical error that ruins the operation. To try and describe, for example, how him inadvertently sticking his face in front of a lens almost blows an elaborate illusion of an empty corridor would take longer than the sequence lasts on film. Just take my word for it: it’s really cool.

What I really like about the action sequence moments here, and in the previous film, were that they happened fast. In the opening scene an agent is seen dashing across a roof and leaping over the side, backwards, firing his gun and making a safe landing – it doesn’t slow and it’s startling, in a good way. No slow-motion balletics or overcooked explosions here. And though the action happens quick director Brad Bird has done fine work in letting you see it all clearly. There’s no rapid-editing confusion like in Quantum Of Solace or the Bourne movies. When Ethan is forced to make a vertical scramble down the side of the tallest skyscraper in Dubai it isn’t a jumpy montage of panicking images, you watch it happen with nausea-inducing thrill.



The Dubai sequence really serves as the films high point. It’s fair to say it suffers in momentum after that and only a rousing finale lifts it back up again. But any movie would struggle to match the Dubai sequence. From beginning to end it’s a 20-30 minute long stretch taking in planning, the aforementioned skyscraper clambering, dual deception tension, footchases, car chases and a whopping great sandstorm. When the crunch of a climax brought about the resolution Mrs. Comet actually leaned over to my ear and said, “Breathe.” I have no idea how long I hadn’t been. Absolutely enthralling stuff.

Michael Giacchino returns to the franchise for scoring duties, building on his own work and Lalo Schifrin’s iconic theme to deliver another muscular, intense music accompaniment. He’s by far my favourite movie composer of the moment and even whilst watching the film I was thinking about how keen I was to get my hands on the soundtrack and listen to it independently. Amongst the expected brass and strong assault he finds time for a full-on Russian choir and Bollywood funk, and it all works brilliantly in keeping the energy levels going.

The villain is the letdown. Compared to the enigmatically maniacal Philip Seymour Hoffman character in the previous film, Ghost Protocol doesn’t have a guy anywhere near as personable (though he’s tenaciously brutal for the final fight). There was actually a moment where a key villain had their face torn to reveal it was a mask that felt like it should have been a moment to gasp about – but those villains are so sketched the impact of that surprise is without force. I should also add that, without spoiling anything, an ending coda confused me more than it delighted. The question that hung over it was, How and why do they live happily like that? It isn’t clear and marred my enjoyment.

First film I’ve seen in 2012 and I’ll be giddily astonished if another action flick emerges this year that can better this one for sheer sense of cool, undiluted spectacular fun. Your mission, and you really should choose to accept it, is to go and see it for yourserlf.

Hugo 3D

I need to explain the circumstances under which I watched this film. I need to clarify the preconceptions I had before I saw it. I need to do these things because I’m going to go on to tell you that Hugo was extremely disappointing, practically boring and undeserving of the critical praise it appears to have garnered. Fact is, my circumstances and preconceptions were hugely responsible for how annoying my experience watching this movie was, and no review of mine can be separated from that.



So my preconceptions of the film, forged from the TV trailers, magazine previews and reviews, basically made me figure this was a movie about a kid getting involved with bringing to life some strange robot creation, and as a consequence magical things would occur. Now there’s a slim chance that I got the wrong end of the stick but, honestly, I think all involved in the marketing and even writing about Hugo deliberately set out that impression to get more people to go and see it. Sure, I had heard that this was also director Marin Scorcese’s love letter to cinema, but I figured that would be a more subtextual embroidery thing for those that were clued-in to pick up and enjoy.

Boy did I get that wrong.

Thus informed as above, the circumstances by which I watched this movie was with Mrs. Comet and my two very young nephews. I dismissed Arthur Christmas and Puss In Boots because I’d heard Hugo was the better movie with outstanding 3D. God bless them, those two nephews of mine put a brave face on it despite getting restless in their seats and intermittently asking if it was nearly finishing (this was around halfway through!). Never mind children with short attention spans, Hugo made me want to scream at the screen, “Get on with it!”

So let me say this outright: Despite all the trappings and promotional suggestion, Hugo is not a children’s film. Somewhat stupidly it really tries to be one, and thus muddles itself even more. There’s not enough wonder or magic or action. There almost is, but then there isn’t – and that makes it a half-hearted children’s film kids won’t love and a magical movie for adults that’s got too much infantile immaturity.



Take Sacha Baron Cohen’s Station Inspector. He’s there, patrolling the station, speaking in a far-flung cockney accent (accents are all over the place here – everyone speaking either cockney, clipped or French-accentuated English) on the lookout for waifs and strays so he can capture them and whisk them off to an orphanage. He is ostensibly the ‘villain’, and little Hugo living in the train station is constantly playing a cat and mouse game of hide and seek. It’s fun, at first, and a third act chase sequence is the standout high point, and Cohen’s performance is a twisted mixture of officious buffoonery, but if Hugo was playing purely for adults then he’d get a lot less screentime.

The film channels an Amelie vibe, in terms of some of its whimsical tone, it’s French setting and in the numerous incidental characters littered around the train station that are in it just enough to convey some minor romantic love story vignette. It’s arguable whether they make the film feel more magical, or just make it last longer than it needed to. I’m more or less of the opinion it was the former, though I can imagine viewing a version of the film that didn’t feature them and probably not feel like something was missing.

It’s start out really well. The first twenty minutes are a delight, actually, and had me convinced I was all set for a wonderful time. Showing the young orphan Hugo (Asa Butterfield) whipping around behind the clocks of the train station (it’s explained how it is he came to be there, maintaining the timepieces) Scorcese has his camera float and glide and spin and drift restlessly. An opening shot surging through crowds on a train platform, in 3D, looks really quite amazing. Indeed, I cannot fault the direction. Hugo is an impressively-made film and, indeed, the 3D is both in-your-face spectacular and used to create depth and dimension to tremendous effect. Alas Hugo just can’t sustain itself in terms of momentum; the plot doesn’t match the visuals.

Enter Ben Kingsley as grumpy shop owner Papa George. He encounters Hugo and discovers he is trying to build an automaton (the aforementioned magic robot) and seems strangely upset about the whole thing. There’s an entire mystery then built around who Papa George really is, and what he was, that Hugo and his friend Isabelle (Chloe Moretz) embark on. The truth of the mystery is found in old movies and contains absolutely nothing magical, unless you’re like Martin Scorcese who is clearly charmed to the hilt by the wonder of his youth spent with these films.



Hugo is an indulgent love letter to cinema from Scorcese and, whilst he has translated that into some remarkable 3D, neat references (many more than I picked up on, I am sure) and the occasional upbeat action piece, there’s no getting around the syrup-thick coating of schmaltz and the crushing sense of disappointment that the big reveal, the climax, is nothing more than a trip down memory for an old man. Trust me, if they’d sold the film on the basis of what it actually is then a lot less people, like me, would have wandered into their multiplex and bought a ticket.

It’s not that this is bad but remember I was sat there expecting magical robots and kid-friendly excitement. Hugo is not that film and I was getting antsy in my seat on their behalf because of it. So due to the annoyance of the marketing and hype being met with the total shattering of expectations, Hugo for me remains a film that I can only advise as a no-go for you.

The Adventures Of Tin Tin: The Secret Of The Unicorn

Curiously, a lot of the fuss and interest this movie generated for me is not because of the subject matter (Tin Tin is a comic character that has utterly passed me by) but because of the presence of Steven Spielberg collaborating with Peter Jackson. The deal, apparently, is that Spielberg took up directing duties for this movie and Jackson was producing, and for a sequel (should The Secret Of The Unicorn be financially successful) they would reverse these roles.

So Spielberg picks up directorial reins first, and also for the first time makes a movie entirely in motion capture CGI (using, I believe, the same ‘Volume’ soundstage James Cameron utilised for Avatar). It certainly still feels odd, to consider this a ‘proper’ Steven Spielberg film when it isn’t live action, and I am someone who considers themselves far more aware about how similar the film-making process is for both director and actors using this new technology. Less savvy audiences, however, are probably not going to be able to see much difference between this and, say, the process in making a Toy Story movie. Fact is, why should they? Better in this day and age that audiences turn up, sit down, and watch a CG-movie, a live action movie or a combination of both and judge it on one basis: is it any good?

So: The Adventures of Tin Tin: The Secret Of The Unicorn, is it any good?



I would consider it a practically pitch-perfect example of how a summer blockbuster should be, which is odd considering its autumn release date. Tin Tin is shamelessly all about the thrills and spills, about delivering the hackneyed “rollercoaster ride” movie, with absolute disregard for anything like depth, meaning or subtext. When done badly such a movie can become a pointless exercise in vacuous tedium. When done right, as is here, it’s about as much fun as a movie can be and the only piece lacking (perhaps not ironically in a CG film) are characters to identify and invest in.

Tin Tin is the chief issue here. Basically he becomes a plot cipher – keeping the narrative progressing by constantly questioning (honestly, I think the large proportion of his dialogue on the page must end with a question mark) and displaying unswerving, do-good determination. Except for what counts here as a moment of crisis for the character, when he believes all hope is lost, he’s an empty vessel of perpetual forward motion; there’s never any sense of what he thinks or feels about any of what is happening.

Compare and contrast to Spielberg’s other great blockbuster adventure hero, Indiana Jones (tonally and spiritually these movies occupy the same space). Dr. Jones could be found trotting the globe, bounding from one set piece action beat to the next, but always with a dry wisecrack, a grizzled demeanour and a wry sensibility. Tin Tin doesn’t possess a pixel’s worth of personality to compare with Indiana Jones and that lack of connection can really make The Secret Of The Unicorn zip past leaving you disengaged. If there’s a pertinent criticism, all style and little substance is it.



Thankfully the film does find a character to invest in with Captain Haddock. Mr. Motion Capture himself, Andy Serkis, inhabits the drunken seadog with a prestigious ancestry to wonderful effect. No disrespect to Jamie Bell as Tin Tin, but when the two are on-screen together one of them looks like they’re acting and the other looks like they’re standing around reacting. Serkis bellows out slurs and incredible half-tales with a Scottish accent, a hint of menace and an instant likeability. The moment Captain Haddock is in the frame the film wisely lets him take centre stage to carry the emotional thrust (the story of The Unicorn – a ship with generations old tales of, yes, secrets! – and Captain Haddock are inextricably entwined) and give some human worth to the mythological mystery.



Unlike, say, The Polar Express or Beowulf, where the mo-capped actors were pretty much recognisable as their real-life counterparts, the digital avatars here remain true to the comic book source (although not perfectly true, as a genius reveal of Tin Tin wittily portrays). As such the actors are unrecognisable, with only Daniel Craig’s villainous Sakharine sort of perceivable beneath the beard and glasses.



It’s bizarre, how you can sort of see the actor, but really you can see the actor’s performance. Even more disguised are double act Simon Pegg and Nick Frost as twin detectives, Thomson and Thomson, bumbling to comedic effect that is mostly harmless and sometimes funny. It’s Tin Tin’s dog Snowy that really steals the show though, with you being helpless to warm to the yapping, excitable and really uncannily clever pooch.

If the accusation is that Tin Tin is all style over substance, however, then let me just say what a style to overwhelm a movie! If it wasn’t all so deliriously gobsmacking you’d want to accuse Spielberg of showboating. Freed from the constraints of the material world his camera is let loose to roam, whip, zoom and pan anywhere and everywhere. Coupled with ingenious editing dissolves, merges and cuts the whole thing plays out like a director who knows every trick in the book being given carte blanche to cut loose and let fly with every single one of them.

Set piece follows set piece, with each becoming more dazzling than the last. Snowy leaping across moving cars, a cat and mouse chase and punch up aboard a rocking ship, a galleon-on-galleon battle that you think has to be the sequence to top everything until Spielberg unleashes the triumphant motorbike chase down a mountain replete with flood water, falls and floating pieces of paper that all takes place in one long continuous shot. It is nothing short of astonishing, and made me want to giddily clap and, right there in the cinema, rewind it so I could watch it all riotously unfurl again. Best action sequence of the summer, bar none.

You can well imagine Spielberg completing it and then looking over at his fellow producer and saying, “Peter Jackson, top that!”

The film’s climax feels a little rushed after such a high point, because *Tin Tin* is a movie that can scarcely hang around for anything. John Williams’ score flutters and fidgets with every fast-paced nuance but can’t find breathing room to unleash an iconic theme tune (unlike you-know-who with the bullwhip and hat). A little breathing room to explain a little more before the showdown would have helped build more impact – you don’t even realise you’re watching the film’s climax until, well, it’s climaxed. And then there’s an obtuse bookend of a scene that ties up some loose ends with one hand whilst dangling plot threads for further adventures with the other.



The Secret Of The Unicorn is an amazing-looking film. Check out the water of the sea and tell me if you think it’s real or computer-generated. And where it doesn’t look real it just looks great. Fast-paced, action-packed; more than enough sounds and flashing lights to beguile you from the empty centre where its leading hero’s heart should be. Blistering barnacles, it’s a blockbusting blockbuster and great snakes it's as fine an example of it as you'll find. Over to you, Jackson.

Contagion

Consider it a non-sensational, high concept thriller. Consider it the anti-blockbuster. Contagion takes the rather well-worn notion of a deadly virus being unleashed upon the world to devastating effect, following stories of people just trying to survive in their homes when panic and public disorder is rampant and tracing the efforts of scientists trying to maintain order and, more pertinently, find a cure. Familiar-sounding notions to any celluloid-hardened moviegoer, but Contagion tackles the subject with an austere, matter-of-fact tone.

It would be a step too far to consider it dispassionate. Contagion is far from coldly distanced. Director Steven Soderbergh is most interested in the people affected, be it a father (Matt Damon) struggling to hold on to what remains of his family to a near-heroic doctor (Jennifer Ehle) who breaks protocol and risks herself by deliberately getting herself infected to test the cure she believes she’s discovered.



The script by Scott Z. Burns is fashioned by an urge to stay true to how such a crisis would really be, and doesn’t flinch from scientific terms (nowhere else in movie history will news that an “R-Nought” figure has increased bring about such a sense of doom) that neatly and deftly get explained without sounding clumsy.



The cast list is peppered with famous faces, from the aforementioned Matt Damon and Jennifer Ehle, to Kate Winslet, to Laurence Fishburne (with one of the best roles he’s had in as long as I can remember), to Gwyneth Paltrow, to Marion Cotillard, to Jude Law. The great thing about Contagion is in avoiding the conventional tropes of who lives and who dies. The general Hollywood taboo of having children die is crunched early, and when one major character wakes up in bed midway through the film, coughing, the gasps around the auditorium at the news this person was set to die let you know how effective the surprise is.

The film delights in allowing the audience to know that the virus is passed on through touch, direct and indirect. A person gripping a handrail on a public bus, or preparing food for someone else, leaving a residue behind that the next unwitting person may contract. . . Contagion makes little fuss but lingers on these hot spots, screaming a silent warning, dripping with latent dread.

Save for a few flowing montage sequences set to music of such contamination, though, Contagion limits itself to sticking with its core characters. There’s not much in the way of sweeping shots of desolated cities, yet I admired how the sense of devastation was conveyed. Possibly the film could have better identified the exact scale of the crisis; it seemed strange that Matt Damon’s Mitch was eking out a life where supermarkets were getting ransacked and his car threatened to be stolen if he left it alone and yet, say, Laurence Fishburne’s character was driving around freely and calling his loved ones. Probably it was purely about where they these people were geographically located in reference to the epicentre of the outbreaks – I just don’t think that point was well-translated.



Arguably the film extended itself to make points that were lost, or ones that felt slightly misplaced. Marion Cotillard’s character gets involved in a kidnapping plot that felt like it got swept up off its feet and then disappeared without trace only to be dropped back in at the end of the movie; it reeked of something that didn’t make the cut to be fully-justified and, as a consequence, perhaps ought to have been excised completely. Marion Cotillard is always a welcome sight for these eyes, but there’s little denying she’s rather sidelined here.

Jude Law fares better, playing an odious freelance, online writer. With bad teeth, poor clothes and a venal agenda masking as moral crusade there’s little room for vanity in the performance, and it’s to Law’s credit. The point of his story survives better than, say, Cotillard’s, although the precise beats of it all weren’t overly-clear at first. The issue with a drug he claims serves as a cure, that has millions fervently craving it, but which is untested and potentially useless was an interesting topic, ripe for examining here. The nature of public information and misinformation during time of a crisis is perfectly-suited to the content, but the message got garbled; shades of grey ultimately get painted in black and white.



Contagion was a curious cinema viewing experience for me in that, during it, I felt it was trundling when it should have been running and left me kind of freewheeling. Those brief shock moments are made effective due to this style, such as Matt Damon hearing gunshots from a neighbour’s house and seeing gunmen flee, and you know he’s thinking the same thing as you: that could have been his house and the only person who can protect his property is himself. Yet for the most part Contagion feels slow, and you’re almost waiting for the virus to really start decimating the masses because you know it’s coming anyway so why doesn’t the film get on with it?



Afterwards, however, kicking over what I saw and, more importantly, how the characters reacted and what they had done (and, in some cases, had done to them) I realised how effective Contagion had been in just showing me something incredible without fanfare and fuss, and how that had generated a film that was really memorable. I might make a pun here, about how it had infected my memory and spread from there to take hold over time, but I’m trying to find a cure for that pathological condition! Instead I'll say Contagion shares the same ruthless hallmarks as a virus - it goes about its intended business with a sharp efficiency but that doesn't necessarily make it perfectly formed.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

This is what you call a serious film. Serious, steady and stern. It centres on men who do serious work and take what they do very seriously. I cannot emphasise this enough: it’s serious. As a consequence, such austerity isn’t for the faint-hearted cinema-goer. Or, for that matter, isn’t exactly ideal movie material after you’ve just had a large Sunday roast dinner and a couple of glasses of wine, like I did. It took a serious effort of will to keep my eyes open throughout, particularly during the middle section.

On-screen the intricate plotting, character interplay and chronological jumping between past and present (completely not signposted so be wary) further make this the kind of film that you could quickly miss the point of entirely. Mrs. Comet remarked, as we exited, that she hadn’t understood any of it. And yet the plot is straightforward. A botched operation prompts two men – Control and George Smiley (John Hurt and Gary Oldman) – to be removed from their positions. However, Smiley is brought back in to continue Control’s work in uncovering a Soviet spy from one of five suspects.

A group of guys. One’s a spy. Gary Oldman’s brought in to figure out who it is. Plot synopsis complete.



Style and subtlety are the order of the day here. Director Tomas Alfredson (previously responsibly for the very measured vampire movie Let The Right One In) isn’t interested in dazzling the audience. It actually struck me whilst watching that the 70s setting of the film and how it actually plays out on screen could very easily convince anyone that the film was made in the 1970s. If you were ignorant to who the actors were or that this was a new movie there’s nothing in terms of content to clue you in to its modern day creation. It’s old-school, and doesn’t suffer because of it either.

There is style here, mind. Two key characters are referenced and glimpsed but never directly shown, either caught in close-ups or obscured in a lack of focus. And watch the early opening scene, where Mark Strong’s Jim Pridaeux takes a simple meeting outside of a café, noticing details about the behaviour of the customers, the sweat coming off the waiter, the reaction of his contact that convince him, and us, all is not well. It’s tightly-coiled whilst simultaneously subdued – a description that permeates the rest of the film.

I must admit I did expect slightly more here to quicken the pulse. Beyond an extended sequence showing Benedict Cumberbatch’s Peter Guillam infiltrating MI6 to steal documents without looking suspicious there’s not a lot here to set your heart pounding. This is fine, of course, except I thought the part of the film that ought to pack a punch – the reveal of the spy! – was so lacking in surprise revelation, so low-key, you’d be forgiven for any initially confused questions of, “Is that him?”

It was really only with that over-muted reveal did the film feel like it fumbled the execution.

A stately pace, few thrills and a fluffed climax, what, you may wonder, is there to recommend Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy? Well, it’s all about the performances. It’s Alfredson’s unfussy direction and a leisurely script that allow big hitters like Gary Oldman, John Hurt and Mark Strong to show off their acting chops. There’s also Colin Firth possessing an edge I’ve never seen him show, Toby Jones deliciously officiously menacing and up and coming actors like Tom Hardy and Benedict Cumberbatch more than holding their own in this esteemed company.



Oldman is the standout, in the lead. His George Smiley is innocuous on the outside to mask the whirring deviousness within. One scene where he gets animated, in recounting a meeting with perhaps his nemesis (for want of a better term), sees him literally re-enact the conversation to an empty chair. An unflinching close-up of his face, filling the screen, lets you watch every flicker and detail of his expression. It’s an important monologue in terms of the plot (it’s a meeting where he betrayed something crucially important to his enemy) and stylish in that the same weakness is clearly still apparent for us all to see. If the performance was so perfectly restrained, by necessity, I’d consider him a shoe-in for an Oscar nod – whether the academy recognises something so nuanced remains to be seen.



This is a movie of proper craftsmanship, and it’s heartening to see that it’s done so marvellously well at the box office (though I suspect there’s a good portion of people that left with their expectations not met). Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is refined, composed and reeks of quality. It’s also serious. It’s very serious. Take it seriously.

Crazy Stupid Love

There’s every chance you’ve got the wrong impression about this movie, if you’ve seen or heard anything about it. The promos and trailers and even the poster might have you think this is something of a formulaic rom-com. If you’ve seen the trailer you will have seen the synopsis of Steve Carell’s ultra-unhip office worker Cal Weaver get divorced and then run into womanising legend Jacob Palmer (Ryan Gosling). From there Jacob gives Cal a new wardrobe, tips on how to pull ladies, and you’d be forgiven for thinking you know what this movie is from top to bottom.



Cal gets divorced, has a bromance with Jacob who teachers him how to be cool and sexy and meet lots of women until he realises that his wife (Julianne Moore) is really the one for him and wins her back. Happy ending. Roll credits. There’s every chance you think that’s pretty much what Crazy Stupid Love is all about.

Crazy Stupid Love is not that movie. It’s not slushy (OK, it's mostly not that slushy) and it’s not altogether predictable. Heck, it doesn’t really play too much for big laughs. What Crazy Stupid Love really is, actually, is a quirky indie movie that’s been dressed up as a rom-com to try and sell more tickets. It’s a shame – because this misrepresentation might put off people that would otherwise find it far more sophisticated and profound than they would otherwise expect.

Steve Carell probably gives the performance of his career so far as Cal Weaver. He’s adept at playing sad sack, likable losers – but here he invests that well-worn schtick with pathos and humanity. This is a man that has been married to Julianne Moore’s Emily for over twenty years – she is everything to him. So when she announces at the start of the movie that she wants a divorce his reaction is of quiet resignation, and then anger, and then finally remorse about how it was they lost his way.

You want sophistication? Consider when the two of them tearfully meet for a parents evening appointment, and Cal acknowledges that when he heard she wanted a divorce he shouldn’t have let her slip away and instead he should have fought.



Crazy Stupid Love handles this situation with a delicate touch. It's bittersweet, not bitter, not sweet. These are two soul mates that lost their soul and how, even if, they can ever get back isn't easily resolved, if it ever even can be. No answer is too contrite. Emily engages in flirtations with Kevin Bacon’s sleazy co-worker, yet all the while her and Cal retain a cordial affection rather than descend into arguments or rage. The film manages to sidestep every cliché you can think of whilst driving down territories of wrecked relationships you’ve known time and time again.

Yet the divorce of the Weaver’s isn’t the only plot on display here – it’s the main thrust of a three-pronged approach. Ryan Gosling’s Jacob is a dazzling entertainment on-screen. Fellas, you take your girl to this and you better concede to the fact that she is going to swoon in her seat before the finish at him; he’s charming, funny, and has a six-pack that one character rightfully remarks makes him appear “photoshopped”.



In truth he’s perhaps just a smidgen too sure-footed (as you’d expect, there’s an emptiness to his man who has everything facade) but you can’t help but enjoy seeing someone so sure, so adept, so witty. Just like all the women he manages to talk his way into bed with, Gosling will charm the pants off you - it's only a script that sells him short in the third act that leaves him feeling under-nourished.

Emma Stone’s Hannah is one such female he initially targets, but she has her own issues that we’ll follow before the path of crazy stupid love leads her back to Jacob, proving herself to be the chink in his armour. Again, hers is a character that dodges clichés. There’s a really nice scene between them when she agrees to go back to his place and is absolutely set on not being a “PG-13” version of herself only for the familiar patterns of more restrained romances to be neatly reversed.



The third plot involves Cal’s son, Robbie (Jonah Bobo) who is in love with his older babysitter, Jessica (Analeigh Tipton – magnificently traversing her gawky awkwardness into an unlikely sex symbol). It’s the plot that perhaps mines the biggest, cringing gags and all plays into the tangled knot of dovetailing threads that eventually, out of nowhere, collide.

With its offbeat soundtrack and its tortured yet colourful characters, Crazy Stupid Love is practically a mainstream indie movie, but it’s definitely more the latter than the former. Indeed, it’s when the movie plays to broader comedy, or the kind of pratfalls Carell is better known for (his bailing out of a moving car near the start is one such mis-step that feels dumped in from another movie, enacted by one of Carell’s less-rounded characters) does it feel like it's undoing good work, but thankfully the movie mostly manages to stick to a credible and dignified tone.



The ensemble of players are all strong, with perhaps only Marisa Tomei’s hot but damaged goods teacher going a little too over the top and thus feeling a notch out of reach of the rest of the piece. But Crazy Stupid Love will be greatly enjoyed by anyone happening to wander in expecting nothing more than the kind of rom-com standard of a Sarah Jessica Parker or Kate Hudson flick. For those genuine indie movie fans, however, they’ve probably overlooked Crazy Stupid Love by figuring it to be another generic rom-com. Blame the promo material, it’s crazy, and you’d be stupid to miss a film that you very much might turn out to seriously love.