Film Reviews
May '06: I've stopped updating this page and am now putting film reviews directly into my blog. This link will take you to a list of entries where I shout my virtual 5 cents from the highest e-rafters.
| February 6th,
2006, At Cineopolis, Plaza Magno, Guadalajara
The relationship with June is very well developed- and though not knowing much about her- I can only say that it’s a perfectly believable love story. The music throughout is well chosen and this morning I woke up with Ring of Fire echoing around my mind (which makes a pleasant change from “Can’t get you out of my head”…). If this doesn’t spark yet another Cash revival I don’t know what will. Fantastic performances all round, a great soundtrack and a gripping story make for a very memorable film. I hope we see a sequel as the closing credits’ “They toured for 30 odd years then died” doesn’t really do justice to the rest of this incredible man’s journey. Next time I’m near an English language bookshop I’ll be looking for the autobiography to find out more. top |
 new: BRIEF REVIEWS |
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Timothy Treadwell loved grizzly bears; he lived among them for twelve odd years, filmed them, tried to protect them and ultimately was savagely killed by them along with his girlfriend in Alaska. This film, directed and narrated by acclaimed German film maker Werner Herzog, tries to understand his motives and offers differing views on Timothy’s quixotic approach to wilderness conservation. Let’s start with the cinematography. Using a hand-held digicam Treadwell’s footage is undeniably impressive. You can tell the zoom button is rarely used as he captures shots of fully-grown bears checking out his camp and shooting him hungry stares as he waxes lyrical about his favourite topic. He explains how he cannot be seen to be weak and refuses to give ground to the alpha males or tries to stroke the bear cubs with the mother just yards away. Ozzie Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin, has nothing on this bloke. If a fight ever ensued, you know that Timothy would come off a very poor second and since the manner of his death is revealed early on in the film you always feel that violent dismemberment is a distinct possibility. The 100 plus hours of film that was edited into this film captures the full majesty of the expansive landscape and also the personal drama and relationship with nature incredibly. In contrast with March of the Penguins, for example, Grizzly Man’s focus is not on the animals themselves, but on one man’s obsession. Park Rangers and ecologists discuss whether this hands-on approach is really beneficial to the animals. Treadwell makes clear his pacifism and that he would never harm a bear, while the rangers explain that to maintain their numbers a 6% cull is necessary each year and that having the bears get used to a human presence is probably not in their best interests. With each passing year Treadwell associates more with the bears than civilization, highlighted well when he films fellow bear watchers with the kind of paranoia that comes from sitting in a tent with just your teddy for company for weeks. Treadwell is clearly a driven man, and Herzog suggests that this drive comes from wanting to belong to something simpler, nobler and fairer than his life in Los Angeles or Florida would allow. I love that Herzog points out that nature is far from this Utopian ideal. Nature is brutal, dangerous and based on a hierarchical food chain and that’s something Morgan Freeman never mentioned about his penguins (“This is a story about love…”). Treadwell turns a semiblind eye to evidence that mature bears have obviously devoured one of their offspring, mentioning all kinds of mitigating circumstances like they would have died of starvation if they hadn’t eaten him… The score by Richard Thomson is fantastic. On the DVD there is a 45 minute mini documentary about its making which could easily be watched in isolation from the film. Thomson is perfect for creating the rough-edged, plaintive soul of the film, nature with a hint of menace, beauty tempered with imminent brutality. Seeing how he crafts the guitar sounds, with cello and acoustic bass, around the progression of a scene is a lesson in professional sound tracking. Herzog is also instrumental in the direction of the sound track. My favourite moment comes when he berates the percussionist for sounding too much like a ‘bongo playing hippy in Golden Gate Park’. While Treadwell has undeniable hippy tendencies, Herzog eschews direct musical clichés and encourages the band to explore the space and atmosphere of Alaska without sounding like ‘music for truckers’. Again, compare this to the saccharine Penguins soundtrack which had more in common with Bambi than the unforgiving Antarctic wasteland where it was filmed. This is a fascinating film which succeeds on many levels. It is perfectly paced featuring candid interviews with friends and colleagues, interspersed with the choicest footage of the bears and, more importantly, the man. Had Treadwell lived to edit his own documentary together it would have been very different, no matter what Herzog implies in his commentary. His film would have been geared towards painting the bears in the best light possible and excluded much of the inherent violence. And the scene where he rants for 5 minutes using very Californian expletives about the attitudes of the park rangers would probably have been left on the virtual cutting room floor. This film is an engaging and fitting tribute to a man whose passionate obsession with bears led to tragedy, yet whose story and filming can inspire similar passion about the wilderness. top |
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| 17 August
2005 As evidenced by previous crowd pleasers such as ‘March of the Orphan Panda Cubs’, ‘March of the Photogenic Day-Old Puppies’ and ‘March of the Fluffy Little Baby Bunnies’ you can’t go far wrong pointing your camera at nature at its most cuddly for a twelve-month period and putting all your best shots into a 90 minute film. The movie had barely started when Sita leaned over and said ‘I want one of those!’ pointing excitedly at the little penguin chicks. Fortunately we don’t have enough room in the freezer, what with all the Kahlua and Ben and Jerry’s frozen yoghurt, and our Mutt, Atticus, still hasn’t fully come to terms with his ‘siblings’, Klem and Lulu. Morgan Freeman narrates a highly anthropomorphised story about the life cycle of the Emperor penguin. From the get-go he tells us that this is a story about ‘love’ which puts the whole thing on firmly unscientific grounding. Pseudoscience abounds with snippets like ‘the Antarctic used to be covered in tropical flora, but drifted away south after ‘thousands’ of years’. This style, which admittedly may work better in French, annoyed the hell out of me. Also Morgan is forever pausing his dialogue for comedic effect as he chuckles to himself as a penguin stumbles or after grimly intoning something like ‘Many of the chicks will not make it through the ice storm’ like some C-list presenter of America’s Funniest Videos. In Alex Wurman's soundtrack, subtlety goes out the window; if we’re watching penguins necking there’ll be soaring strings. Leopard Seals munching on Mummy Penguin? That’ll be lentissimo minor keys then as Morgan points out sotto voce that, of course, by killing the mother, her baby will starve to death too. Top marks for resisting the Jaws theme music there though, mes amis. Apparently in the original French version, the penguins talked throughout, so God love the American repackagers for sparing us that particular indignity. I was, however, most reassured to hear that penguins do actually sound like Pingu. We watch the arduous journey from ocean to breeding ground and all the fun that ensues in between. It’s reminiscent of Disney’s animal documentaries from the ’60s and ‘70s usually involving bears or wolves and their crazy comical antics. As a real ‘family film’ the penguin sex scene is mercifully brief (it’s made clear that the mummy penguin and daddy penguin are very much in love) and the regurgitation of 4-month-old fish paste is framed at just the right angle to see the chick’s cute little face but little else. It’s a testament to the paucity of good cinema this summer that this film is doing as well as it is. There’s nothing fundamentally wrong with it, but I’ve seen plenty of better documentaries on BBC in my time that haven’t had to resort to cheesy melodramatic tricks to convey such an incredible story. The cinematography’s great, but nothing that wouldn’t look just as good on a small screen. I’d only recommend this film if you happen to be in dire need of air conditioning and frigid visuals. That said, I’m sure kids will lap this up and, like Sita, be demanding penguins for their next birthdays too. top |
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| 4th Feb 2005 Excellent movie that won’t fare too well in the red states… I can take or leave most early Almodóvar films, Atame, Qué he hecho yo..., Mujeres al borde…, etc. but since Carne Trémula (Live Flesh, 1997), I’ve enjoyed every one. His films during the eighties and early nineties were energetic diatribes rallying against Franco’s repression, filling the screen with gaudy images of debauchery and violence designed to keep el Generalisimo revolving in his ornate tomb. In his most recent films the traditional leitmotifs of repression, sexuality, violence and revenge continue, but the desire to offend with graphic, almost cartoon, imagery has given way to a new-found subtlety in how societal taboos are confronted. And sometimes this subtlety can be even more powerful. In Bad Education Almodóvar tackles paedophile priests and the tragic effects on one boy in particular. It’s hard to describe the non-linear plot which has you trying to work out exactly what’s real, what’s fiction, and who’s who, without giving too much away. Half the fun of the film is piecing the parts together. But it’s gratifying to know that by the final scene it all gels together perfectly. Gael Garcia Bernal is the centerpiece here and he turns in astounding performances playing several characters including Sara Montiel impersonator, Zahara, and abuse survivor Ignacio (or is he?...). He’s involved in pretty much every homoerotic scene in the film, which may or may not be a selling point. I don’t think I could watch the Motorcycle Diaries in the same way again, having now seen Che Guevara in drag fellating a passed-out drunk in a motel. Although abuse at the hands of the Catholic Church´s finest isn't new cinematic territory, Almodóvar’s direction and ability to evince career-making performances from his cast lifts this high above the norm. All non-homophobic lovers of dark tales of obsession, revenge and mystery will enjoy this film. top |
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| 12th Jan, 2005
I’d only seen one episode of this (from the second series) and on the strength of that, I ordered meself this box set for Xmas from amazon.co.uk. After lots of failed attempts at converting the DVD from a UK video standard to work on my American equipment, I eventually gave up and purchased a spanking-new DVD player. I’ve been watching one or two episodes a day for the last fortnight. Although anything I review so soon after watching two series of Peep Show has a lot to live up to, this collection more than holds its own. The plots revolve around three main characters: Bernard Black, barely-functioning-alcoholic shop owner and all-round acerbic Irish bastard, Manny, big-hearted, hapless assistant and Fran, who has a few personality flaws of her own too. Their interactions are hilarious, from vicious banter (Manny gets a new insult every time he’s addressed) to inspired slapstick (Bernard stapling a betting slip to Manny’s hand). Episodes frequently take turns for the surreal as bottles of wine are knocked back every episode and there’s lots to be amused at along the way. The three central characters are ably supported with guest spots from the likes of Simon Pegg (Spaced, Shaun of the Dead), Peter Kaye (Phoenix Nights), Graham Lineham (Father Ted), Lucy Davis (Dawn from The Office) and lots more. It’s fair to say if you enjoy any of these people or programs I just bracketed, you’ll not be let down by Black Books. top |
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| 10th Octover, 2004 The Xenophobe's Guide to Mexico City Denzel Washington is the Republican, bible-quoting avenger, meting out violent justice to corrupt Mexican officials involved in a kidnapping ring. He’s a renegade soldier who doesn’t play by their rules and when the (blonde) daughter of a mixed race couple is abducted on his watch, there’s hell to pay- “Death is his art. And he’s about to paint his masterpiece…” notes Christopher Walken. As you can tell, I really wanted to hate this film, but it’s so bloody stylish and fast moving I found myself quite gripped. Sita, let the record show, has her own opinions… I liked Denzel’s character, sufficiently jaded and morally ambiguous for a lead character in an action film. The daughter is a lot less annoying than she could have been. And from the start, Marc Anthony fully inhabits his role of out-of-his-depth, desperate father. There’s lots of scenery from the Mexican capital, so while the various car chases are playing out, I got to point out “Been there” with annoying frequency. If you can get past the stereotypes of corrupt foreigners, heavy artillery as a means of correcting systematic problems and a couple of pretty brutal torture scenes then you’ll lap this one up. A guilty pleasure. More please. top |
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| 25th September, 2004 One for Rodney's family and friends.
From his humble beginnings when he was pretty much left by his parents to fend for himself in LA’s hipster Mecca, the Sunset Strip, through his hob-nobbing with stars and groupies, to his pretty mundane present in a bed-sit with occasional excursions to IHOP (the International House of Pancakes) and his radio show (now scheduled at midnight), he is a singularly odd figure. His success appears to stem more from his looks (think Syd Barret crossed with Davy Jones) and little-boy-lost persona, than his innate talent for picking winning bands and he has managed to fend off obsolescence for nigh on forty years. Basically, once a group got successful in Britain, he got sent advance copies and was thus able to break them in the all-important American market. How much of a talent you need to predict the chances of stateside success for the likes of The Kinks, Bowie, The Smiths and Coldplay is debatable. It’s easy to feel sorry for the bloke, sitting next to the woman whom he’s just explained is his soulmate, listening to her say they’re just friends and she actually has a boyfriend, then seeing him distributing his mum’s ashes in the next scene. But he’s had quite a life on pretty scant talents. And although he lives in a crappy little bed-sit, he could probably move into something better if he Ebayed a couple of items of memorabilia he’s been given over the years… Elvis’ Driving license, Bowies earliest demos… Ka-ching. If you know who this bloke is, maybe it’ll be better for you. I found the film patchy and often wondered why they were documenting this guy’s life and not, for instance, the borderline psychotic Texan who writes songs about Jennifer Love Hewitt (“She’s so nice…”) and wanders around town in a space-suit. Not a bad soundtrack though, it seems that quite a few people owe him favours. Watch Oliver Stone’s The Doors for a more interesting glimpse into the 60s LA scene. top |
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| 10th September 2004 How can you not go to see a film billed as a “Romantic Comedy. With Zombies.”? This film is inspired. If you’re a fan of the Channel 4 series “Spaced” you’ll need no persuading, if you’re not (and that had better be because you’re allergic to cathode ray tubes or live outside the UK) then prepare yourself for the first, genuinely funny British film released in years. With no mockney, gun-toting cretins, stuttering public school types nor Elizabethan period detail, but tons of living dead, knowing references and Stella-Artois-expelled-through-your-nostrils comedy, this is truly a promising shift for UK cinema. And I’m hoping that zombies infest more genres if this is the kind of result we can look forward to. Simon Pegg is the titular Shaun, an unlikely hero stuck in a crappy job and in the process of getting chucked by his girlfriend. As London slowly fills up with flesh-eating zombies he bands together with his best mate to save his friends and family from the undead onslaught. Armed with a cricket bat (“Whack’em on the head. That seems to work.”), and a grand plan involving finding sanctuary in his local, we see that even with imminent Armageddon, old habits die hard. Still sparking up the occasional fag and playing the fruit machines even when they’re fenced in on all sides by hordes of reanimated corpses, or arguing which records to use as ammo- “Dire Straits? Ok.” you’ll keep smiling between the laugh-out-loud bits. A huge amount of fun comes from the essential Englishness of the heroes. Americans could not have made this film, and our yanqui friends are going to miss a lot of the rapid-fire cultural references that come at you every other second. The fact Shaun’s mum is Anne from dodgy 80s sit-com, Ever Decreasing Circles is going to be pretty hard to explain but when they’re on the run from their zombified neighbours and she muses “It’s been a funny sort of day, hasn’t it?” I think that’ll cross the Atlantic intact. This is going to get a rare 5 Lulu rating. Go and see this, persuade
your mates to see it and if they need a reason, tell them it contains
the best ever use of a Queen song in a movie, they’ll learn
that dogs can’t look up and it will help them forget Notting
Hill. |
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| 16th September 2004 This is a French-produced film about a Parisian economics student
who goes to study in Barcelona for a year and lives with five other
European stereotypes. Will the following clichés please stand
up? Repressed German, check, Promiscuous French bloke, check, gorgeous
but flawed French lass, Belgian with identity issues, check, haughty
Spaniard, check, “Special” Italian, check and finally
pig-ignorant Brit and his studious sister? Ladies and gentlemen,
it seems we have a full house… Sarcasm aside, this international cast is all too credible. In my first year in Swansea I shared a house with a lovelorn Gallic type who after 6 months of covering his walls with used phonecards got chucked by his amour for his best friend; a Greek whose continual insistence that British girls only went to Greece to fall in love with Greek men was made still more risible by his continual subservience to his Greek girlfriend next door; a Spanish bloke who had a leg of Jamón Serrano hanging in his window and christened our electric kettle by boiling milk in it; Christian Phil, the born-again wine enthusiast; Crusty Ben, the didgeridon’t playing pseudo-anarchist; and many passers through. The main overriding difference between this film and where I lived was the lack of strong homebrew cider and the apparent absence of a TV. For anyone who’s spent a year in a foreign country as a student it’ll be hard not to cringe with recognition at some of the scenes depicted. From drunkenly singing along to No Woman, No Cry in a cod Jamaican accent in some plaza to bouts of depression related to seemingly insurmountable relationship problems. However, if you relate completely you’re either still 18-23 or need to take a serious look at where your life is headed. Although the actors are playing stereotypes, they’re completely believable. Fellow viewer, Scott, observed that the French bloke was the first French protagonist in a film who actually looked like a real French person. For Barcelona fans there’s lots of great scenery from the Sagrada Familia to Las Ramblas and not skimping on the less well developed areas in between. You’ll be reminded of all the fun of European bureaucracy, the healing power of going clubbing, the petty arguments in student accommodation and how bloody annoying the French can be. There’s plenty to critique/laugh at the protagonists for- their personalities, actions and cultural traits and that’s half the fun. Make sure that when you see this one you watch it with your mates and are prepared to spend a couple of hours rolling your eyes and feeling superior but don’t get too smug… it’s probably for the best that no-one was around to video tape your life at university. top |
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| 22nd August 2004 If you had a selection of reviewers for your paper, you probably wouldn’t send the opera bloke to review the upcoming GWAR! concert, and in the same way I feel a little under qualified to report on this (pre-?)teen romantic comedy. But, God help me, I watched it and it is therefore my manifest destiny to write a few thoughts down. And besides, when hungover once, the movie “Big” almost had me crying…
The film starts way back in 1987, which makes it odd that she’s hooked on Thriller era Michael Jackson (1984), but that’s the least of the problems. If I’d jumped forward 17 years it wouldn’t just be the mobile phones that freaked me out and before I’d jumped back in time, I’d make sure I’d spent a few minutes researching lottery numbers from ’88 and maybe noting any avoidable international disasters. It’s clear from the first frame that this film has no basis in reality- the magic is a major clue, but also, the chances that everyone at a party knows the precise dance moves to Thriller among other things. I’m not bothered it's not realistic, I'd just like to state that I'd rather live in any other reality than one with these characters. The morals come thick and fast and are impossible to ignore: don’t forget your real friends, be nice to your folks, be true to who you are, looks aren't as important as character, enjoy your youth, learn Michael Jackson dance moves, and invest in magic wish powder. It's like being verbally pummeled into submission by a teacher in a mildly progressive Sunday school class. Even if you’re stuck in a plane, this film’s playing and the only other option is making friends with the Jehovah's Witnesses sat either side of you, choose The Watchtower. top |
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| 8th August 2004 |
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| 18th July,
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| 6-June-04 Directed by the Y tu mamá también geezer this is an altogether darker adaptation. Harry's having his Carrie/ Scanners moments e.g. he inflates some family member and watches her float off into the sunset, the fact I half expected her to explode says a lot about how the tone is set early on. The Nazgulesque Dementors are also a suitably eerie presence, they're guarding Hogwarts from the escaped prisoner, but are more than happy to turn on anyone who gets in their way, with obvious parallels with American Homeland Security. But with a better collective sense of humour. The aforementioned CGI nonsense is truly remarkable and it's a testament to the technicians and director that so much of it goes unnoticed. Whereas in the first one they took centre stage, here practically every frame has ghosts wandering through it or architecture rearranging itself so that the cumulative effect is to completely ensconce us is Harry & co's world. Plotwise, it's complex and entertaining enough. In each film I can never work out who the baddies are, but enough of my mental shortcomings. I have issues with time travel whenever that happens in films. From now on whenever something goes wrong, just go back 10 minutes and sort it out... and why would Hermione go mental if she saw herself from the future if she's spent the last year nipping back and forth to attend extra classes? Eh? Anyroad, a great, epic film. Thoroughly recommended. top |
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| Guestbook any comments "Let's have a heated debate" |
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Sita
introduced me to Cash’s music only 5 years ago and I knew
little about his story. This film whetted my appetite to know more
since many reviews say it only hints at the real darkness in his
life. The Spanish title is Johnny y June: Madness and Passion. I
wholeheartedly agree about the passion aspect, Joaquin Phoenix is
nigh on perfect as Cash from his stance, speech patterns to his
on-stage persona, but we only see flashes of the madness (a few
amphetamines too many, a Zeppelinesque outburst in his dressing
room and a mano-a-maquina with his Massey Ferguson). 
March
of the Penguins
La
Mala Educación
Misanthropy
and alcoholic fun in above average Brit-Com
A
good documentary should involve you even if you’ve never heard
of the person who it's centred on. And in this case the person I've
never heard of is Rodney Bingenheimer, a long-time DJ on LA’s
rock station, KROQ. Once you get over the fact that someone named
Rodney was able to get their own radio programme, and that US radio
stations all have 4 letter names (starting with K, West of the Mississippi,
and W east of the river), this proves to be a somewhat interesting
meander through the celebrity studded life of Mr. Bingenheimer.
13
going on 30 is another careful-what-you-wish-for morality tale about
a girl whose desire to be 30 years old comes true, giving her a
glimpse of her potential future and what she has to do to change
it. Jennifer Garner does a good job of acting like a 13 year old
in a grown-up’s body, and if you find that kind of thing ripe
with comedic potential, good for you. For something billed as comedy
it fell remarkably flat for this 29 year old male focus group.
This is the sequel to The Bourne Identity, with pretty much the
same cast. Jason Bourne is a CIA-trained super-assassin who just
wants to get away from it all, spend the rest of his life chilling
with his missus in Goa and sprinting along the beach every day.
He's some kind of hybrid of Michael Knight (mysterious past), MacGyver
(quick-thinking improvisationalist), the Jackal (owns more than
his fair share of passports) and the Terminator (has a very limited
range of facial expressions). Events from his past catch up with
him and it's a fairly gripping race to clear his name, straighten
out the past and nail the baddies (pesky Russians and their goons).
"This
is the first time I've seen you rent a foreign language film on
your own", said Sita, knowing I usually need heckling to watch something
without frequent explosions or some sci-fi "high concept". I think
that after recently reviewing I, Robot, Harry Potter III and The
Day After Tomorrow I needed a change of pace and watching this beautiful
film was a thoroughly pleasant way to spend a Sunday evening. 
17th
July, 2004 
© 2004 Gwyn Fisher - Probably Last Updated 23.aug.04