When a film is ‘presented by’ someone it usually means one of two things. Firstly that the film maker doing the presenting is the ‘hot shit’ of the moment, that they can do no wrong and their mere name attached to something will double the box office. Secondly, if the presentee is worth their sodium, the project will be very much of the type that they would have been happy to make. In the case of Guillermo Del Toro presents The Orphanage both such cases are correct.
The film tells the story of Laura (Belen Reuda) and her return to the orphanage of her childhood. Now a mother herself she brings her family back to the old home to re-open it as a school for handicapped children. When her son starts to play act with his new ‘imaginary friends’ he finds around the house things take a turn for the worst. Soon the child is missing and Laura will do anything to find him again, including venturing into the spiritual world.
There is a hell of lot to recommend this film. The story is compellingly told and should keep the most questioning audience member guessing. The acting is top draw, the design creepy and the jumps come at all the right moments. To tell too much would be to spoil the plot (and I only spoil the plot for films that I want to, i.e bad films) but suffice to say the mystery element is one of the storngest characteristics of the film.
Having won awards for his short films Spainish director Juan Antonio Bayona is not unaccustomed to having praise heaped on him and with his first major film the kudos are still coming. And rightly so. With The Orphanage he has constructed an intriguing ghost story that, while at times may slip down the occasional plot hole and take a quick trip down cliche alley, holds itself high as one of the best of its type since, well, The Devils Backbone.
Do you remember when Arnie, the big hard man of Hollywood, went all soft on everyone and danced around in tights and sang Elvis Presley’s Are You Lonesome Tonight? to a small child? No, thats because he didn’t. He did however get pregnant which is pretty gay. But for Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson ballet and crooning seem to be the key to showing that he’s a shary carey man, in Disneys latest nausia cause.
Dwayne (as he insists on being called now) is Joe Kingman an NFL player whose life is (American) football. A selfish player with more money than he could possibly use and a similar amount of women discovers that he has an 8 year old daughter. Lets see, do you think Joe might be able to learn something from this newly acquired offspring? Perhaps learn something about looking out for others and the true meaning of life?
Well spoiler warning ahoy! He does indeed learn lots of lovely things, which to be honest I’m not complaining about. Its a Disney film, of course lessons will be learnt and hugs will be exchanged. What is annoying is the amount of lessons that are learnt and how horribly they are presented. The film is one long running, sports metaphor/lesson espoused/Dwayne looking foolish/lesson learnt combo that repeats itself ad nauseum til the credits roll.
The little girl is especially annoying, coming across like an extra from The West Wing, with so much knowledge about the evils of fast food and such. Rampant consumerism does get a free ride as the little brat seems to shut up about the evils of the world when she’s put in a toyshop with all her mates. Oh and the bad takeaway food company is called Fanny Burgers. Americans may think this slightly funny, Brits with as immature a sense of humour as me, find it hilarious.
After actually sitting through the brain rotting entirity of Meet the Spartans (I really did, all 82 cocking minutes, including credits!) the words of D:Ream resounded through my head. Things, could indeed, only get better. How marginally better things could get, I’m still struggling to believe. For 10,000BC is as risible a production as you will see at the movies this year. Part Braveheart, Part 300, Part Gladiator, All Wank.
D’Leh is a woolly mammoth hunter living a few millenia ago. All is splendid in D’Lehs world, looking as he does a bit like Colin Farell with dreads, until his tribe is set upon and his girlfriend captured. This annoys him a bit so he gets some friends together to go get her back. On his way he domesticates a sabre tooth tiger, fights giant ostriches, learns agriculture and stops the Pyramids being built. Which will surely fuck up the Egyptian tourism industry in years to come.
Its about 5 minutes in when a waft of quite repugnant stench comes emminating from the screen. Forgetting for a second the perfect skinned, styled goateed, English speaking tribesmen. Forgetting the most boring voiceover ever recorded. Forgetting still that, somehow, even though we’re 12,000 years in the past ‘Middle Eastern looking’ guys are still the baddies. What tipped me that this film was as bad as the Chinese government was that the one thing that was supposed to be good, The Special Effects, were terrible in places. Yes the mammoths look good but when you can see so obviously that all dialogue scenes are filmed in a studio, any realism is lost immediately.
As for the ‘hero’ he’s as useless as a Breville sandwich toaster in prehistoric times. All he does is get his friends kidnapped or killed because he steadfastly won’t listen to anything anyone else says. Every moment that he does succeed in doing something that isn’t retarded it turns out to be a fluke or a prophecy. So while at the end of the movie he is transformed into a hero none of this is his doing. Instead we have to spend almost two hours in the company of the wettest caveman since Barney Rubble. That little bastard got the hot girl too.
Just Fuck Off. Please, please just Fuck Off.
Whilst watching the latest dance shit fest I was struck by how non-linear the narrative was. Amazingly time jumped back and forth at a level usually associated with art house cinema thus rendering me unable to keep up with a plot that was more akin to Lost Highway than High School Musical. As I sat panicked by the fact that Step Up 2 was fastly becoming one of the most subversive films of the year it dawned on me. I’d put the the sodding reels in the wrong order.
When assembled correctly this film is an identikit transfer of every teen/dance/ballsathon out there. Girl from street gang (Briana Evigan) has to join an elite arts school or she’ll be sent away to somewhere (I wasn’t really paying much attention). At the school she starts to hang around with the losers that inhabit it and, for doing so, gets kicked out of her crew. She then enlists the services of these losers to engage in a ‘stepbattle’ with her old crew. Balls, balls, balls.
All the ‘actors’ have clearly been chosen for their dance abilities which leaves any dramatic scenes devoid of any credibility. Saying that, I can’t think of a single thespian who could deliver lines such as “I can’t believe what they did to you last night!” in response to a rival gang being shown up on the dance floor. Its not like they raped their grans in front of you. After a massive speech made by the lead girl to win all these naughty gang members round you might actually be wanting some non-consenual octagenarian sex to liven things up.
I knew full well going in this isn’t exactly the film for me and the ‘reels out of order’ confusion did manage to keep me entertained for a bit but the level of illegality given to the subject of people having a dance is ludicrous. I once read a review (I believe by mega-critic Paul Ross) that described something as being “grittier than Friends“. The question that buzzed through my head for days after was “What could possibly be less gritty than Friends?” Ladies and Gentlemen, after years of searching, we’ve finally found it.
The camcorder could well become the anti-hero of 2008, featuring heavily in Cloverfield, Vantage Point, In the Valley of Elah, Untraceable and now taking pride of place at the front of Romeros latest. For some reason, known possibly only to the writers and not the directors, all the people wielding the cameras are assholes to the 9th degree.
A group of student filmmakers and there tutor are shooting a horror film when the news that the dead are rising from the ground comes in. Seeking an opportunity to become the documentary master he’s always dreamed of Jason puts all his loved ones behind him and focuses on completing his film, now with real-life death. The rest of his crew are just hoping to get home as the world around them crumbles.
There are some nice touches with this latest Zombie flick (Amish dynamite-throwing deaf guy, Drunk professor who utters nothing except quasi profound philosophy) but these are all bogged down in multiple themes that smacks its audience in the face in the hope of either removing the head or destroying the brain. Before the theme of rampant consumerism was under the surface in Dawn and the War on Terror was secondary in Land. Here, thanks to a terrible voiceover, the messages are rammed down our throat. People are self destructive, they would rather watch death than stop it, we are too pre-occupied with the media, and on and on.
By forcing these ideas Romero has also had to break with the chronology of the Dead series meaning you now can’t watch the series in one go. The dark humour that was once one of the strongest selling points of the Zombie flick has been replaced with a seriousness of alarming pretentiousness. The final line of “Are we worth saving?” sadly puts this film in the same category as the others named in the opening sequence. And that category is Shit.
Any scriptwriter/filmmaker will have written something when they were young that didn’t quite work. A first attempt at something new, a little naive and most importantly an excercise in learning that should never really see the light of day. Paul Andrew Williams follow up to London to Brighton (a tense thriller dealing with the world of prostitution) is a prime example of something dusted off the shelf once a name has been established.
Gangster brothers Peter and David have a plan to make themselves rich and worry free. They have kidnapped the daughter of a local mob boss, taken her to a remote cottage and plan to ransom her. Unluckily for them she’s a mouthy little mare with enough aggresion to spoil their plans. Even more unluckily for all involved a vicious killer is picking off bystanders and keeping their heads for trophies. As they do.
Many of the faults of the script lie in a teenage over reliance with thinking bad language makes the characters sound ‘ard. While there may be a smile raised the first time Jennifer Ellison cries ‘cunt’ in a thick scouse accent, the repitition of all things ‘fucky’ and ‘cunty’ soon start to grate. The other two leads Reese Shearsmith and Andy Serkis are also given dialogue and roles they can’t do much with. Although the former having some experience in the field of horror/comedy does manage to do better with the material given.
The film is not a complete failure as there are some funny gags (the room full of moths and the slow crawl to help certainly stand out) and the horror is handled well. The two films in one angle draws comparisons with From Dusk Til Dawn and the new wave of Brit Horror Comedy is much more welcome than the old wave of Brit Gangster flicks. But when all is said and done sometimes its best to leave that first script where it is, written but unfilmed. Or perhaps filmed but only shown to friends.
The third Seuss film of the decade is upon us and its out with the scary rubber masks and in with the computer animation styling of the Blue Sky team (Ice Age, Robots). For anyone else that thought The Grinch and The Cat of the earlier outings looked just plain creepy this can only be a good thing. Happily, its also the best suited format for this wacky world, being able to show off all sorts of imaginative tricks that live action wouldn’t be able to handle.
Horton the Elephant is a happy go lucky kinda mammel, swimming around in his jungle paradise generally having fun. Until that is he hears the screams of a speck. The speck transpires to be Whoville a tiny, tiny world that is unaware of its fragile existence (metaphor anyone?). The Mayor of Whoville and Horton team up to protect the speck while forces in Horton’s world seek to destroy it for the simple crime of spurring on imagination.
Having the super enthusiastic Jim Carrey (on Ace Ventura/Cable Guy levels of mania) and the super enthusiastic Steve Carrell (like Jim Carrey in Ace Ventura/Cable Guy) is a great way to keep the kids and adults entertained. While their voices run off the screen with a degree of joie de vivre usually associated with people in padded cells, they both fit perfectly in the Dr’s world. The gags, while never hysterical, come often and are well placed enough to make the brief running time fly by.
Older members of the audience can have plenty of fun playing guess the under-underlying message. Is it a statement on climate change, the climate of fear, climate control in cars? Who knows, but the message intended for kids, is spelt out clearly and beautifully; “Even though you can’t see them at all, A person’s a person, no matter how small.” Perhaps if people of all ages took this on board those more ‘adult’ problems may be lessened. Even if there are only lessened a tiny, tiny amount.
My name is Owen Nicholls. I’m 25 years old. I get scared by films rated PG. P sodding G! That means its intended for children, possibly unsuitable for under 8′s so bring an adult. I am a fricking adult what am I supposed to do. I’m guessing my folks were asleep at midnight when I viewed this and I don’t think my manager would be too happy if I brought my parents to each and every screening just in case I poop myself. The words large, young female and thin cardigan spring to mind.
Jared Grace (Freddie Highmore#1) moves with his mother, sister and twin brother (Freddie Highmore #2) from New York to the country when his parents split up. Angry at the divorce, he acts out treating all in his family like garbage, smashing things up and playing Marcel Marceau (thats silent not dead). When he finds a book that opens a world full of goblins and fairies he begins to open up. But the evil chief goblin (Nick Nolte) seeks to get the book back and destroy the world. Now Jared has to look out for those around him, beginning to take on the responsibility his fathers absence has given him.
Nearly all the aspects of this film work. Lots of care has gone into the script so that every clunky line is balanced out by one with a little bit of thought. The set design and effects work is second to none and the photography seems way too good for the intended ickel ones to enjoy. Freddie plays both his roles well and considering he’s carrying the movie himself that’s good work for one so young.
Another fantasy based on a kids book shouldn’t really work as well as this does. And while it doesn’t have the same place in my heart that Bridge to Terrabithia received last year it will certainly contend for a place in the ‘best family films’ of the year category once Decemeber rolls on. Oh, and in relation to me being a big scardy pants The Spiderwick Chronicles does represent the first time this year that I’ve been genuinely a bit shaky in the cinema. Considering I’m over 40 films in, thats not bad, is it?
Once there was a time when if you needed information you’d go to the local library, if you needed pornography you’d have to buy it from a shop. I remember a time when the big four would always be in the FA Cup final. And not so long ago you’d go to the cinema to watch a movie. But alas the times they are a changing. So now the multiplex is awash with music concerts and 3-D wizardry with nary a storyline in sight. Armageddon surely must be close.
Well at least We Are Together can pass as a documentary film, following the lives of the residents of Agape, an orphanage in Africa that using singing as a way to bring their community together. The main part of this film is dedicated to how their music helps them through bad times and is quite affecting. But the Aids crisis which is such a huge humanitarian crisis seems to be deemed only worthy of a sidenote. Instead as the singing children go on a fundraising tour Bastard faced rich Bastards get to feel all warm and gooey inside because they paid a few quid to watch some Africans paraded around like freaks.
While the ‘coming to America’ segment is only about 10 minutes long, it’s enough to ruin everything that had come before and also enough to put the horrible doubt in my mind that the filmmakers were just as exploitative as Mr. Simon and co. If you want to hear the music (which is the main reason for the film) buy the album but don’t kid yourself into thinking you’re making any difference at all you smug middle class pricks.
(And yes I am a smug middle class prick myself but I’m not rich or influential in any way, most of the people in the audience at the ‘Charity’ gig could actually do something if they chose to)
Speaking of people who think they’re making a difference, Bono and chums were at the cinema over the last few weeks. As I’m not a U2 fan, and this is simply a U2 concert, I decided to sit this one out. Instead I’ll say that the 3D is impressive and tell you a reasonably funny joke.
Q. Whats the difference between Bono and God?
A. God doesn’t walk around Dublin all day pretending he’s Bono.
This week sees the Cracker Spawn of Satan (thanks for that one Bill), Hannah Montana get a big screen gig. Again I’m not mashochistic enough to sit through this concert of filth but I would very, very, very much like to point out that her tour title ‘The Best of Both Worlds” is the same title as the hermaphroditic porn that Randall watches in Clerks. The idea that little Cyrus is hiding a little secret down her pants certainly makes the wait for Armaggedon a bit more enjoyable.
