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Yes We Cannes!

So, Cannes is well and truly underway. And without (for the most part) the bitchiness or grumbling that usually accompanies it. What? Journalists might actually enjoy a film festival? Pish-posh. Still, despite the huge backlash against Lars Von Trier, the festival is going down a treat. When a Disney film can open Cannes to universal acclaim (no easy feat), you know something’s off. With the general lack of pithiness that defines Cannes journalism, I don’t know what to make of coverage of Inglourious Basterds. The reviews are mixed at best. I miss the Tarantino who won the Palme d’Or for Pulp Fiction. What happened?

Quentin Tarantino, master of the pop culture cocktail

Quentin Tarantino, master of the pop culture cocktail

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This is no time to argue about time, we don’t have the time…

The early reviews for Terminator: Salvation seem to be in – and they are not as bad as I thought they would be. Apparently if you leave your brain at reception, you might enjoy it. Still, it’s got me thinking. The original Terminator was one of the few Hollywood movies to deal with time travel relatively well. How come Hollywood seems to have such difficulty wrestling with such a common science fiction trope?

Warning: thinking about time travel might make your brain melt

Warning: thinking about time travel might make your brain melt

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The DVD Dilemma…

I have a moral dilemma. Pixar’s Up is released in the United States next weekend. It has opened to nigh-universal praise at Cannes. My girlfriend is anticipating the film like nobody’s business. And we’ll have to wait five months to get to see it over here. By that stage, the DVD and Blu Ray will have been released in the United States.

So, should I feel guilty about wanting to import a legally purchased DVD or Blu Ray of a film that hasn’t arrived in cinemas yet?

You shouldn't have to trek halfway around the world to see Up...

You shouldn't have to trek halfway around the world to see Up...

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Non-Review Review: Wanted

We caught Wanted on Sky Anytime this evening, and figured it was worth a look. My aunt loved it, my uncles seemed less-than-enthuised, and me? I’m not quite sure what to make of it. If I had to sum it up, I’d say that there are worse ways to spend an evening, but there are a whole host of better ones too. On the summer blockbusterfare, this is pretty distant from The Matrix or The Dark Knight or even Iron Man. It doesn’t have the kitsch value of Independence Day either (“… and today… is our… independence day!”). But it is significantly better than Transformers or Bad Boys II.

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Does Christian Bale Suffer From Sean Penn Syndrome?

I like Christian Bale. Or at least, I want to like Christian Bale. Having watched him since American Psycho (joining relatively late in his career-to-date but earlier than most), I am continual impressed by the quality of his acting. Yet I find it very hard to refute when my brother begins justifying his hatred for the erstwhile Welsh thespian. Eventually – after much soul-searching – I figured out why. Christian Bale suffers from what might be termed ‘Sean Penn syndrome’. In short, he’s an incredibly talented douchebag.

Is this the face of a highly talented douchebag?

Is this the face of a highly talented douchebag?

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Welcome to Baltimore…

“This is Baltimore, gentlemen. The gods will not save you.”

-Bill Rawls

I finished the fourth season of The Wire yesterday. Boy was that depressing. Really depressing. Even my parents, who had been wading in and out as they were going about their weekend business, found it almost soul-destroyingly downbeat. That’s not to say it wasn’t great – just depressing. Anyway, my mom repeatedly stressed that she didn’t believe that anywhere as bad as Baltimore could actually exist. I decided to investigate.
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Who Am I to Argue with History?

What do Hollywood film makers owe to history? I’ve had this question on my mind because I’ve been seeing quite a few historical films lately – The Reader, Chaplin, and Frost/Nixon will hopefully be arriving in my mailbox today – and I just wondered how faithful it was reasonable to expect a Hollywood film to be to real life events.

Contrary to popular belief, the missing 18 minutes from the Watergate tapes do not feature Richard Nixon practicing jazz hands...

Contrary to popular belief, the missing 18 minutes from the Watergate tapes do not feature Richard Nixon practicing jazz hands...

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Non-Review Review: The Reader

The first of the big Oscar nominees to be released on DVD/Blu Ray in Ireland, it’s little surprise that Dad came home with The Reader this weekend.

I like to think I’m an open-minded sort of guy. I can watch controversial films without blinking. I can even stomach the occassional political diatribe and acknowledge its well-crafted artistry (I enjoyed Lions for Lambs despite its hamfistedness). Yet The Reader just irks me. Perhaps it’s the way the film tries so hard to pass itself off as a ‘big idea’ film (and evidentally succeeded, securing a Best Picture nod). Perhaps it’s the way that it acts like it has got guts, asking tough questions when all it does is dance around them and undermine them with shameless Oscar-baiting (let’s look at german post-war guilt – but let’s make the subject of this examination an illiterate, uglied-up, pedophilic Kate Winslet).

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Start Spreadin’ the News…

It appears that Martin Scorsese’s on-again, off-again, on-again, off-again, on-again biopic of Frank Sinatra is back on again. I’ve been following the project during it’s languished history in, if not development hell, at least development limbo.

To be honest, I was most excited about the Robert deNiro iteration of the project. That supporting cast sounded fantastic. Now it’s been confirmed, how do I feel? Well, good, to be honest.
It’s odd that the end of a director’s career would show more breadth than the early years, but the last decade has seen an astonishing broadening of Scrocese’s pallete. We’ve had a Hollywood biopic (The Aviator), a historical epic (Gangs of New York), spiritual drama (Silence), a conventional thriller (Shutter Island) and even an old-style mob yarn (The Departed). Sure he’s experimented before – the seemingly anomolous Age of Innocence now makes sense as a precursor to Gangs of New York, The Doors still stands out as an odd choice in his career – but that string of wildly-variable-in-genre films seems unprecedented. Even the most conventional choice in that lineup (The Departed) seems oddly out of sync with his early mob exploits (Goodfellas, Casino). So, why is this relevant?

After so much variety, I look forward to a bit of vintage Scorsese. A biography of a Los Vegas lounge singer with ties to the mob seems to be relatively familiar ground. This doesn’t mean I’m writing off any of his impressive slate of Oscar-buzz-generating releases already on the horizon – the release of any Scorsese film is cause to celebrate – but this film has been discussed and talked about for so long that it’s hard not to especially anticipate it. Sure, his last “dream project” was Gangs of New York that met with a somewhat muted critical reception, but I felt the director’s love with the material in every frame.

The casting rumours have begun again with many media outlets suggesting Johnny Depp or Leonardo diCarpio. I’m happy with either – I trust Scorcese on this. Both are incredibly competent actors who would do the material proud. I think diCaprio has done his best work with Scorsese – though he did deserve an Oscar nod for Revolutionary Road – and I think that Depp and Scorsese would make a fantastic team. Hell, I’d even trust the director with John Travolta.

It is Scorsese’s dream project after all. I’m just tagging along for the ride.

Non-Review Review: Chaplin

I caught Chaplin for the first time last night on Sky Anytime. I was quite impressed for a film I’d heard next to nothing about – always a bad sign.

I quite enjoyed it. As much a love letter to the ghost of Hollywood past as to its lead character, it managed to successfully evoke the slow dwindling of the Hollywood dream. Director Richard Attenborough manages a number of inspired touches (my favourite being the scene where Charlie theatrically claims that The Tramp called out to him (the first hat he tried on, the cane flew to his hand), only to be called out by his editor, leading to the much more mundane days of searching for props and the character’s voice). You almost believe you’re there in the golden age of Hollywood, thanks to costume and set design, as well as staging. In particular, the film works well emulating famous bits of Chaplin schtick (an extended sequence where they flee his wife’s lawyers while editting the film, playing with a volleyball so as to remind viewers of The Great Dictator). It realises that there’s more to Charlie than the life that he lived, and manages to recreate an air of magical non-realism around him. Somehow I imagine his life was much more mundane, but it feels good to imagine it wasn’t.

While we’re on the strengths of the film, three words: Robert Downey Jnr. He was only twenty-eight years old when he played the role, but the audience could be forgiven for being unsure – the film traverses Charlie’s life and, while the later makeup mighty be a bit ropey by today’s standards, it ages Downey relatively well through the bulk of the film. It’s a difficult performance, but one that works. As imagined by Downey, Chaplin is a flawed human being. Not so tragically flawed as the more recent Oscar-nominated performances in recent biopictures (Johnny Cash or Ray Charles are easier to sympathise with), in that he is openly condescending and bitchy about the people close to him, without ever seeming to need to apologise (check out his blithe summary of “America’s Sweetheart”). On the other hand, it’s hard not to feel proud of a man so unwilling to compromise his humanism, even when he knows it will land him in hot water.

It’s to Downey’s credit we neither love nor hate the man, but feel a little like we understand him. It’s also to the performer’s credit that his schtick embodies Chaplin so well that Attenborough can play clips of the man himself (who plays himself on celluloid, save a recreation of the finale of The Great Dictator where Downey steps in) without shattering the illusion.

The rest of the performances are hit-or-miss. Very few supporting characters get screentime, so the really great actors make their mark with that time. Traditionally underrated players, like Dan Ackroyd, Kevin Kline and Diane Lane, in particular make the most of small roles. Veteran performers like James Woods and Marisa Tomei seem criminally underused. The parade of women in Charlie’s life seem like little more than extended cameos, despite being played by Penelope Ann-Miller, Milla Jovovich and Moira Kelly among others. At this point I should reflect that Moira Kelly’s Oirish accent is terrible. It’s painful to hear, but it’s not there for long and is worth soldering through.

There are the usual complaints about biopics to be made here. It does lack focus and suffers from confused priorities. Does Charlie’s sex life deserve the attention is receives at the expense of his career? Is the handling of his politics deep enough, or is it lost amid the tragedy of Douglas Fairbanks? The truth is that – at least in films of this scale – it’s nearly impossible to strike a balance. This film lands squarely in the middle of the pile – landing with W. or Beyond The Sea rather than Nixon or Walk the Line – but is elevated slightly be those inspired director’s touches, a genuine love for the material and a fantastic leading performance.

Call this one a cautious recommendation, though I’m always biased for a love letter to the golden age of Hollywood.

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Chaplin is directed by Richard Attenborough (Ghandi), based on the life of film maker and comedian Charlie Chaplin. It stars Robert Downey Jnr. (Iron Man, Tropic Thunder) and a huge ensemble cast featuring Kevin Kline (A Fish Called Wanda, The Pink Panther), Anthony Hopkins (Silence of the Lambs, Fracture), Marisa Tomei (My Cousin Vinny, The Wrestler), Dan Ackroyd (Ghostbusters, Evolution), Diane Lane (Nights in Rhodesia), Penelope Ann-Miller (Carlito’s Way), Milla Jovovich (Resident Evil, UltraViolet), James Woods (Videodrome, Nixon) and David Duchovney (The X-Files, Californication). It was released in the US on 8th January 1993, but was actually released earlier in the UK and Ireland on 18th December 1992.