ONCE UPON A TIME IN MEXICO
Sunday 28 September 2003
Stratford Picture House, London E15 VISIT

Welcome to the third and final instalment of Robert Rodriguez’s El Mariachi trilogy, a film so stuffed with ideas, characters and plot lines that it explodes into an utterly confusing, thoroughly enjoyable but ultimately chaotic mess.

This is going to be hard to summarise but I’ll try. Antonio Banderas’ wandering guitar player and gunman, El Mariachi, is offered the chance to come out of retirement by maverick CIA agent Sands (Johnny Depp), in order to kill his nemesis Marquez, who killed his wife (Salma Hayek, in a surprisingly minor role told completely in flashback). But not before Marquez has staged a coup against the President of Mexico on behalf of Barillo, a drug lord (Willem Defoe with an amusing moustache). Barillo, meanwhile, is planning a little plastic surgery in order to disappear for good. There is also a corrupt member of an elite police unit, a retired FBI agent out to avenge the death of his partner, Micky Rourke as slightly effete gangster on the run and everyone gleefully betraying everyone else. And more bullets flying than the Normandy landings.

With so much going on, it often seems that Antonio Banderas, the star of the previous film, has no more screen time than many other characters. Johnny Depp in particular repeats his brilliant performance in Pirates of the Caribbean by utterly upstaging everyone as the supposedly ‘undercover’ CIA operative wandering the streets wearing a CIA T-shirt and hiding a gun in a prosthetic arm. His character has the best and funniest lines and his final battle, amidst the revolution he has created and looking like one of the Day of the Dead masks that are a signature of the film, is just great. It’s a shame that by crowding so much in, some of the emphasis on the action is lost. It is also a shame that El Mariachi, essentially an outlaw anti-hero, suddenly becomes a ‘son of Mexico’ in a moment of charmlessly jingoistic nationalism that says a great deal about the influence of Hollywood on Rodriguez.

As I said, great fun but Desperado, the big budget remake of the original El Mariachi, is a better film. If only Rodriguez had stuck with its simplicity and coupled it with Depp’s forceful performance, ‘Once Upon A Time in Mexico’ would have been a more worthy tribute to those old Sergio Leone spaghetti westerns.

RAISING VICTOR VARGAS
Saturday 27 September 2003
The OTHER Cinema, London W1 VISIT

After the ‘Stop the War’ march, which was inspiring, a friend and I went over to the OTHER Cinema, formerly the Metro, for what turned out to be an inspiring and often very funny film about the lives of Latino teenagers in Manhattan’s Lower East Side. Not a bad day really.

‘Raising Victor Vargas’ tells the story of Victor, who lives in a tiny apartment that he shares with his brother Nino, sister Vicky and his grandmother, an immigrant from Dominica who sees Victor as a bad influence on his siblings. It’s an environment where there is no privacy, where everyone knows everyone else’s business, which is tough on Victor, who insists he is a “very private person.” At the swimming pool, he sets his sights on Judy, the prettiest girl in the neighbourhood, whom even best friend Harold says he has no chance with. But Victor is persistent, although his efforts at first are as vulgar and graceless as the boys pestering Judy every day. She thinks she can use Victor to keep the other boys at bay, but he is determined to win her heart and puts all of his energy into wooing her.

Director Peter Sollett has created a vivid portrait of New York’s poorer streets, sweltering in the summer heat, and this film is full of strong performances from a cast that apparently had little if any experience prior to shooting. At times, the indication that many of the cast were extremely familiar with their surroundings gives the film an almost documentary feel. The stand out acting for me was undoubtedly Victor’s grandmother, who was just wonderful and funny whenever she was on screen, but it is hard to fault any of the actors. Throughout, ‘Raising Victor Vargas’ offers an insightful and unsentimental examination of young love and family relationships. This is by far as it is possible to get from a Hollywood teen movie. And it even has a great soundtrack!

‘Raising Victor Vargas’ is one of those limited-release films that deserves to be given a wider airing. See it whilst you can.

UNDERWORLD
Monday 22 September 2003
Odeon Camden, London NW1 VISIT

Leaving a week before writing this review (OK, not exactly planned, but bear with me) has provided the kind of perspective necessary to ignore the fact that Kate Beckinsale looks fabulous in a skin tight rubber catsuit.

Thinking back, it’s hard to explain exactly what Underworld is intended to achieve, other than the starting point for yet another franchise. The central premise is that there has been a secret war between Vampires and ‘Lycans’ (Werewolves) for centuries and the former are winning. The Lycans are searching for someone whose ancestor had mixed blood, with all the strengths of both species – basically a spin on the plot of Blade and, um, Blade 2. Which brings us to Michael, a human whom Beckinsale’s character Selene ends up falling for but who is bitten and transformed into a wolf. There are innumerable battles in and below the streets of what looks like Prague and Kate gets to show off some moves lifted from The Matrix and, um, Blade 2. And she also has to contend with a vampire father figure who turns out not to be quite as honourable as she first thought. Not unlike, um, Blade 2.

None of which amounts to very much at all. At times the film looks fabulous but at times it has all the quality staging of a 1980s Spandau Ballet video, all purple frock coats and frippery. It’s also worth remembering that there is something slightly camp about vampires, which only Wesley Snipes in the Blade films, through the force of sheer physicality, has managed to overcome. Bill Nighy on the other hand, who was the wonderful newspaper editor in the recent TV drama ‘State of Play’, plays an ancient vampire whose lines drew nothing but mirth from the audience I was with. And whilst Kate Beckinsale mostly hid behind her fringe and looked gorgeous without making any terrible mistakes, the acting of whoever was playing the ‘bad’ vampire Kraven was nothing short of dire.

As a distraction on a rainy evening, ‘Underworld’ was not that bad. But without a great deal more toughness and a better story, one that at least acknowledges the conventions of the vampire flick, it is hard to see this leading to a lasting franchise.

Which is another bold prediction that will probably turn out to be wrong…

SPIRITED AWAY
Sunday 14 September 2003
Odeon Camden Town, London NW1 VISIT

How to describe ‘Spirited Away’, the amazing animation that won an Oscar earlier this year? A Japanese Alice in Wonderland mixed with Wizard of Oz? Although the similarities are there, this doesn’t quite sum up the experience. Whilst this film, loaded as it is with complex imagery, perhaps makes more sense to a Japanese audience, the nervy edge of weirdness that flows through this film is exhilarating. It’s a story composed by a quite extraordinary imagination.

The film tells the story of ten year old Chihiro, who along with her parents gets lost on the way to their new house and ends up in what appears to be an abandoned theme park. They have stumbled, however, into another realm, a land of gods and spirits, so when Chihiro’s mother and father eat enchanted and forbidden food, they are transformed into pigs. Terrified and alone as twilight arrives and the spirits that inhabit the park come out of hiding, Chihiro seeks refuge in the bathhouse where she is befriended by Haku. He tells her that that the witch Yubaba, the mistress of the bathhouse, is obliged by the rules to allow Chihiro to live as long as she is prepared to work. To survive and hope to restore her parents to human form, she must become one of Yubaba’s employees.

What follows is almost impossible to summarise, especially without a more detailed understanding of Japanese mythology. Some things – such as the River God who is so choked with pollution that it is mistaken for a Stink God – is eminently transparent, as is the character of No Face, the spirit that consumes the desires of others but remains desperately lonely and confused. A friend has said that the central theme is simple, about different and competing feelings of love and loyalty, which is also undoubtedly true. However, Chihiro is also hurt by the brusque way her parents dismiss her feelings of loneliness caused by moving away from what she knows. At the beginning of the film, she forlornly clutches a dying bunch of flowers given as a farewell gift by her old friends, and says, "my first bouquet - and it's spoiled." Her encounters with spirits and monsters transform her into a stronger, less despairing and more understanding individual (in a way that is less apparent in Alice or Dorothy in Wizard of Oz).

All of which is less important to a review of the film than the dazzling visual quality of the animation. There are so many moments but when Chihiro runs through the flower garden or the scenes of Yubaba's palace with sunrise through the mist the railway tracks covered in water are just astonishing.

This is a wonderful film. An absolute must-see at any costs.

BELLEVILE RENDEZ-VOUS
Saturday 13 September 2003
UGC West India Quay, London E14 VISIT

Now this is just great. The French animated film ‘Belleville Rendezvous’ is about as far from a Disney cartoon as it is possible to be, with both the characters and the imaginary city of Belleville (itself a caricature of New York, complete with an obese Statue of Liberty) illustrated as grotesques, out of proportion but hugely fun.

It is also the very funny, slightly weird and engrossing tale of Champion, encouraged by his grandmother to become a cyclist, who is kidnapped in the middle of the Tour de France in the 1960s and taken via Marseilles across the Atlantic to Belleville. Granny and Champion’s faithful dog are in hot pursuit (braving the storms in a hired pedalo) and on arrival, they hook up with three sisters, former singing stars of the 1920s, who live on frogs caught be tossing hand grenades into the local swamp. To rescue Champion, they must face the sinister Mafia henchmen of the Godfather, (whose hideout for some reason is in the French House of Wine) by infiltrating their lair. OK, so I said it was a little strange…

But it is also wonderful to watch. Much of the animation is stunning and the final chase through the streets of Belleville is hilarious. This is a very French, very eccentric but extremely enjoyable film that if anything seemed to be over too quickly. And the music is infectious too (I bet after you see this you’ll be humming the tune from the opening scenes for days)

Definitely see this film. It may have almost no dialogue but the many brilliant sight gags make it one of the funniest films I have seen all year.

RESPIRO
Saturday 6 September 2003
Odeon Wardour Street, London W1 VISIT

I have been thinking about seeing this film for some time, in part because of the positive reviews but also because this is the first I have heard of Valeria Golino since she appeared as in, um, Hot Shots Part Deux (a much misunderstood classic in many people’s books!)

The film tells the story of Grazia, a Sicilian fisherman’s wife who appears to display all the symptoms of manic depression, her moods swinging from light to shade. The neighbours think she is a little odd and her family want to send her off to Milan for treatment, but she refuses to go. Then, when her husband decides to get rid of her dog and her response is to throw open the doors to the local pound, leading to panic in the village, it seems that the inevitable can no longer be resisted. But Grazia’s eldest son Pasquale decides to hide her in a secret cave on the cliff tops, as the villagers and her distraught husband search for Grazia, believing her to have drowned.

All this is told against the backdrop of the arid, starkly beautiful Sicilian landscape and is interwoven with the daily lives in particular of the children, the boys in particular living an almost feral existence, fighting in gangs but also demanding control over their sisters. Once Grazia goes into hiding, however, the attempt to impose a mystical element to the story, with the fisherman’s wife suddenly perceived as some sort of saint, is confusing and doesn’t really work, whilst the finale seems equally contrived. And whilst the intense sunlight of southern Italy helps give the setting its bleached, harsh quality, it also at times makes the (white) subtitles impossible to read, which is frustrating and left me feeling that perhaps I was confused because I had missed something important.

Over all, an interesting but essentially flawed film.

SWIMMING POOL
Monday 1 September 2003
UGC West India Quay, London E14 VISIT

‘Swimming Pool’ tries very hard to pretend it’s an insightful, serious psychological drama but in truth, its comes across as an episode of ‘Midsomer Murders’ with a large helping of Gallic nudity.

Charlotte Rampling plays Sarah Morton, a successful English crime writer who has become so jaded by her work that she accepts the offer made by her editor (Charles Dance) to use his villa in southern France to write something new. She is a bitter, lonely and frankly annoying woman who becomes even more irritating when her editor's daughter Julie (the luminous Ludivine Sagnier) arrives as an unexpected guest. Julie promptly destroys the tranquillity that Sarah craves by playing loud (not very good) French house music, by wandering around naked and having noisy sex with a string of repulsive older men.

So far, so straightforward: a story about the cultural and generational gap between a snobbish, uptight, middle-aged English woman and a vulgar, insouciant, wayward French girl. But then the story suddenly involves a murder and it all goes somewhat pear-shaped. The ending is also daft too, hinting unconvincingly that everything that proceeded it may be nothing more than the plot of Sarah's new book. By that stage, I had stopped caring.

If you want to pay good money to see Ludivine Sagnier lounging topless by a pool, this is the film for you, you WILL go blind one day and you should probably get out more. Otherwise, the fact that this is terribly French is no guarantee that it will be either clever or great – with its frustrating ending, ‘Swimming Pool’ offers the proof that French films can be a let down too.

CYPHER
Sunday 31 August 2003
Greenwich Filmworks, London SE11 VISIT

Now this is more like it. Director Vincenzo Natali’s new film ‘Cypher’ may have had only a fraction of the money and none of the hype of the summer ‘blockbusters’ but is leagues ahead of them all.

The completely absorbing plot has Jeremy Northam, an English actor who usually plays villains (and has been the best thing about other people’s bad films, like Sandra Bullock’s lamentable The Net) as a seemingly timid accountant who is recruited by software corporation Digicorp as a spy. Adopting a new, more interesting personality, he is sent to marketing conferences around the US and told to record the interminably boring speeches he hears. All is not what it seems, however, and after meeting the mysterious Rita Foster (Lucy Liu), he discovers that he and the other delegates are all employed by Digicorp and being brainwashed to spy on rival company Sunways. And that’s all I can say without giving too much away!

Although ‘Cypher’ is set in the future, the look of the film is pure 1950s suburbia, Both Northan and Liu are excellent and it is fun to spot the references to other films in the clever plot. The brainwashing headsets look like something out of Clockwork Orange and I was reminded repeatedly of the great film Brazil (there is even a conference speaker called Tuttle, the name of Brazil’s mysterious hero, but possibly I’m reading too much into this!) And the moment when Northam’s character is dropped off by a cab in the middle of nowhere is pure North By NorthWest. Whilst there’s not the cash for expensive special effects, where they are used, they don’t look shabby or out of place. There is a great twist at the end that I didn’t guess in advance and straight away, I wanted to see it all again. There’s no better recommendation that that for any film.

This will probably be on a very limited release so see this film whilst you can. It’s one of the best of the summer.

LARA CROFT: TOMB RAIDER 2: THE CRADLE OF LIFE
Monday 25 August 2003
Stratford Picture House, London E15 VISIT

I’m not entirely clear why this film has more titles than a minor member of the aristocracy, the sort of posh Sloane who might catch the eye of one of the Windsor princes. Perhaps it’s because this is exactly the Sloane mould that ‘Lady’ Lara Croft has been cast from, albeit a bad tempered one who apparently is also a cross between Indiana Jones and James Bond, rushing around the world after ancient artefacts whilst saving the world from megalomaniacs. Like you do when shopping at Harvey Nicks or riding your pony through the grounds of the estate gets just too dull.

Anyway, rather like the aristocracy, Lara Croft’s first appearance failed to stand up to even the mildest scrutiny and the original Tomb Raider was one of the worst big-budget films of recent memory. So it is hardly surprising that this sequel is better. Improvements in special effects and computer graphics help, of course, and the new Tomb Raider seems consciously to have taken the lead of the Brosnan Bond films. There are thus some impressive stunts, lots of foreign travel (Greece, China, Africa) and our Lara even has a catchphrase now: “some things are not meant to be found.” Including, it has to be said, a proper storyline, sparkling dialogue or any sense of drama. This is the biggest problem with the Tomb raider franchise – no matter how much money is spent and how many exotic locations scouted, it’s just as lifeless as the game on which it’s based. It’s almost as though the director, having given the film three titles, had to throw in three continents in the hope of distracting the audience. But it is still impossible to give a damn about Lara, her ‘adventures’ or to care about the apparent lack of chemistry between her and her Scottish mercenary old flame. You’re more likely to get emotionally involved watching an episode of ‘Xena Warrior Princess.’

It is hard to believe that Angelina Jolie, an Oscar winning actress, needs to keep putting herself through this. If she has any sense, she will start considering better scripts and Tomb Raider 3 (probably with even more titles) will never see the light of day.

And if that happens, it’s hard to believe that anyone would care.

PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: THE CURSE OF THE BLACK PEARL
Sunday 17 August 2003
Stratford Picture House, London E15 VISIT

The pirate film, the staple of Saturday matinees of the 1940s, has not had a great track record recently, as anyone who saw the lamentable Cutthroat Island will recall. Furthermore, the inspiration for this film is a Disneyland ride, for crying out loud! But this is still one of the best pieces of escapist entertainment I have seen this year, largely due to the extraordinary turn by Johnny Depp as the unlucky pirate Captain Jack Sparrow. The greatest act of piracy in this film is the way Depp steals every scene from everyone else.

The story goes as follows. Geofrey Rush’s Captain Barbossa and the crew of the Black Pearl are seeking the last piece of Aztec gold that has cursed them to be trapped between life and death, unable to feel anything or to die. In the moonlight, they appear as rotting skeletons. The gold medallion hangs around the neck of Elizabeth Swann (Keira Knightly from Bend It Like Beckham), the governor’s daughter, who is kidnapped during a raid on the English settlement and taken to the pirates’ island. Blacksmith Will Turner (Orlando Bloom, Legolas from Lord of the Rings), from whom she took the gold piece as a child, sets off with Jack Sparrow, the former captain of the Black Pearl, to rescue Elizabeth, stealing an English frigate and recruiting a ramshackle crew to sail her.

There are innumerable fight scenes and some memorable special effects (such as the cursed pirate crew walking along the sea floor to attack the governor’s ship). There is even some reasonably good acting, especially from Jack Davenport (from ‘This Life’) as a convincingly stiff upper-lipped Commodore Norrington, Turner’s rival for Elizabeth’s affections. But the show belongs to Depp, whose portrayal is the antithesis of that the swashbuckling pirate hero played by Errol Flynn. Jack Sparrow is camp, witty and more than slightly deranged, with the strangest English accent you will ever hear. It shouldn’t work but is does magnificently, which causes one obvious problem: when Depp is off the screen, you start to notice that the plot is confusing, characters are underwritten and at almost two and a half hours, it’s just too long! But as soon as Sparrow reappears, you are never sure exactly what Depp will do next as Sparrow minces across the screen.

For Depp’s performance if for nothing else, this is miles ahead of many of the summer’s supposed ‘big’ films. Well worth watching and I’m already looking forward to seeing it again when it’s out on DVD.

TERMINATOR 3: RISE OF THE MACHINES
Monday 4 August 2003
Stratford Picture House, London E15 VISIT

OK, another delay in writing up my reviews, but it has been too hot to do anything, never mind be creative – or see anything in a cinema without air conditioning. Decided to see the latest instalment in the Terminator series, released some twelve years since the previous film, before the heat wave hit and with fewer expectations than for almost any other ‘blockbuster’ film of the summer. After all, Arnold Schwarzenegger is now 60 and apparently there is photographic proof that he now has love handles and, um, ‘man boobs’ (that’s what steroids will do to you kids). I realise Arnie needs the cash after a run of pretty awful box office no-hopers (Collateral Damage anyone?) but can he really still deliver the goods after all this time? Is it more the ‘Infirminator’ than the Terminator?

Thankfully the answer is, by and large, yes. At first, it sort of seems that whoever the director is (not James Cameron this time) is intent on playing it for laughs, with Arnie’s Terminator appearing, ready to to save John Connor yet again, and getting his trademark leathers from a male stripper at a hen party. But once this is out of the way, its straight into some particularly impressive action and, unlike many other films where you can see what’s computer generated, T3 seems refreshing old-fashioned in having stunts performed by real people, proper car chases and actual explosions.

The plot is still as daft as in T2: Judgement Day and Arnie still has very few lines, but the new ‘bad’ robot, the TX played by model Kristanna Loken, is not as impressive as Robert Patrick in the previous film. She doesn’t quite capture the blank ferocity that Patrick brought to the role (he obviously spent a lot more time watching Yul Brynner in Westworld), although she looks a lot better in a red leather jump-suit that Ben Affleck did in Daredevil. Nick Stahl does a reasonable job as Connor in his twenties but Claire Danes’ acting talents seem to have been wasted on a character that just screams a great deal.

This is a big action film and really needs to be seen at a cinema – I can’t see it being anyway near as good on DVD. However ‘T3’ is still an engaging and presumably final episode to the series. Whilst the door is very obviously left open for a further instalment, Arnie’s plans to become Governor of California might get in the way. And if he waits another decade he’ll be in his seventies.

I’m not sure that even the computer geniuses at Industrial Light and Magic can find a way to hide the love handles when he’s that old…

THE HULK
Thursday 24 July 2003
Stratford Picture House, London E15 VISIT

‘The Hulk’ is as much a part of my childhood as the Dukes of Hazzard and Starsky & Hutch and anyone familiar with the wonderfully trashy 1970s show will know the basic setup. Dr. Bruce Banner, accidentally exposed to a dose of radiation, is transformed into a big green monster when he gets angry or is threatened. He sets out alone in search of a cure, always one step ahead of the military. And of course he has a catch phrase: “you’re making me angry. You won’t like me when I’m angry.” Brilliant stuff.

It is therefore somewhat of a disappointment that, even with a director of the quality of Ang Lee at the helm, ‘The Hulk’ joins Daredevil and Spiderman as another less than successful attempt to bring a Marvel comic book character to the big screen. It’s not that any of these films is utterly dull, it’s just that they all rather fail to live up to expectations. So Spiderman, with the best plot, was sadly let down by the supposedly ‘’climatic’ ending. Daredevil was fun but forgettable (and we all wanted Bullseye to kick Ben Affleck’s arse anyway).

The biggest problem for the director was always going to be that the Hulk isn’t really a ‘superhero’ at all. Sadly, an essentially simple idea has had a lorry load of psycho babble from a dozen self-help books and a dash of Freud ladled in to try and explain why the Hulk is what he is. So we are told that the incredible transformation into the Hulk is a result of an experiment by the doctor’s father, passed on in his son’s genes, who has returned to cause more mischief. There is also a hidden memory about Bruce Banner’s childhood that girlfriend Betty (Jennifer Connelly) must try and help him discover. All of which slows the plot down to a crawl at times. For all this effort, what is not resolved is whether the Hulk should be seen as a terrible creation of a deranged scientist, rather like Frankenstein’s monster, or perhaps more like King Kong, the wild beast whose nature is soothed by the attractive female lead.

The other problems are more fundamental. Nick Nolte, who plays David Banner’s father, is just rubbish, completely lacking in menace, whilst both Connelly and Eric Bana in the lead roles are pretty lifeless and have no personal chemistry. The aforementioned lack of pace is also not helped by the action sequences and the fact that the Hulk is… well, a joke really. When Banner transforms into the Hulk, the effect is like watching a big green action toy on screen, one that completely fails to blend in and isn’t in the slightest bit intimidating (after all, no-one is injured by the creature’s rage). But at least the clever use of split screens and overlays to give the impression of watching a comic strip are fun.

I can’t see the Hulk developing into a franchise because it does not have the immediacy of, say, the first Batman film, the benchmark for how this sort of thing should be done. But then there has been so many sequels this summer that's there's every likelihood of a second film, just because the movie moguls know they can make loads of money on the cereal package tie-ins.

On second thoughts, don't see this film under any circumstances - you'll only encourage them...

BUFFALO SOLDIERS
Saturday 19 July 2003
Greenwich Filmworks, London SE11 VISIT

Overwhelmed by wandering around the Greenwich white elephant, sorry the Dome, for the Respect anti-racist festival, I popped along to one of my favourite cinemas just down the road, UCI’s Filmworks, for what may prove one of the best films of the year. Made in 2001, ‘Buffalo Soldiers’ has taken ages to be released because of distributor’s nerves about its brutal satirising the US army. You can definitely see why they would be worried about a backlash.

Joaquin Phoenix plays Ray Elwood, member of a supply regiment stationed in West Germany just before the collapse of the Berlin Wall. Rather like an unprincipled modern version of Sgt Bilko, Elwood is happily making money on the black market and running rings around his hapless commanding officer, Colonel Berman (Ed Harris). Then one day Elwood acquires a consignment of arms, following their accidental and hilarious separation from their guards by a drug addled tank crew. From that moment, things start to disintegrate, including his car – literally, shot to pieces on the orders of new Top Sergeant Lee (a brilliant Scott Glenn), a Vietnam veteran who hates everything that Elwood stands for and whose daughter Robyn (Anna Paquin) Elwood has seduced.

This is a wonderfully subversive film, with bored soldiers so wasted that they don’t care when one of their number dies or even know whether they are in East or West Germany. It also has a vicious kick, with the battle between Elwood and his ‘Top’ Sergeant, who confesses to loving the ‘turkey shoot’ of Vietnam, descending into increasing levels of violence. Phoenix gives a great performance, both charming, amoral and, as Elwood falls for Robyn, even vulnerable. The visual imagery too is excellent, including an exhilarating opening scene where Elwood dreams he is dropped like a bomb from an aircraft and falls to earth. Best of all, it is a often painful antidote to the gung-ho representation of the US Army that is fed to us in crap films like Black Hawk Down.

Definitely see this film. It so unlike a Hollywood film that it has to be seen to be believed.

WHALE RIDER
Thursday 17 July 2003
Stratford Picture House, London E15 VISIT

Whale Rider is essentially a feel-good eco-drama for the spiritually confused, with the sort of mystical story that skates over the reality of Maori life to appeal to people who become breathless when talking about crystals, ley-lines and homeopathy. But that’s not to say that its hugely romanticised version of New Zealand’s Maori people is not entertaining, even if ancient traditions are receding into memory for reasons unexplained by director Niki Caro.

The main strength of the film is undoubtedly the wonderful performance by Keisha Castle-Hughes, who plays Pai, twin to a brother who dies at birth and therefore cannot take his place as first born male heir to the Maori chief. Most disappointed is Pai’s grandfather, a proud man who has seen his eldest son leave New Zealand after the deaths not only of his son but also his wife, who died in childbirth. Pai’s grandparents have raised her and her stern grandfather clearly loves her, but his strict adherence to custom means he will not allow her to be part of a school to find as suitable replacement as heir. When Pai defies him to train as a Maori warrior, her grandfather withdraws from Pai – until whales start washing up on the beach.

And that’s basically it. You know fairly early on that there will be a happy ending, it’s that sort of film. New Zealand remains as spectacular as it was in Lord of the Rings and the sympathetic characterisation of Pai, her grandfather and pretty much everyone else (no gritty realism in the Once Were Warriors vein here) makes the film enjoyable but somewhat insubstantial. But children will probably enjoy the rare instance of an adolescent who is both courageous and rebellious, whilst those who think they see hidden meaning in ancient traditions will love the whale rider story.

An enjoyable, if not exactly challenging evening’s entertainment.

RIPLEY’S GAME
Saturday 12 July 2003
Odeon Panton Street, London SW1 VISIT

Writer Patricia Highsmith’s psychopathic character Tom Ripley, played by the youthful Matt Damon in The Talented Mr Ripley, returns in the form of the wonderfully malevolent John Malkovich. Ripley is now older and living on his ill-gotten gains in a quiet village in Italy with a beautiful wife and a spectacular house. This perfect life is interrupted by the sudden appearance of a former criminal colleague Reeves (Ray Winstone). Reeves wants Ripley’s assistance to carry out a murder on a clubland rival in Berlin. However, when at a party an English picture-framer Jonathan Trevanny (Dougray Scott), who suffers from leukaemia, insults his lack of taste, Ripley plans to take his revenge and satisfy his unwelcome former partner. Ripley’s ‘game’ involves tempting Trevanny to carry out the Berlin hit for a enough money to provide for his family after his death.
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Both Winstone and Scott are good actors but Malkovich’s role is the only one of any real interest and he is by turns terrifying, occasionally very camp and has all the best lines. From the connoisseur one moment to the murderous killer on the Dusseldorf train the next, Malkovich plays Ripley as cool, detached and in control – which makes the decision of an utterly amoral man to help Trevanny when the game grows bigger than his original intention all the more intriguing.

Still, the plot is daft really but Malkovich’s Ripley comes close to his portrayal of Valmont in Dangerous Liaisons in its lack of morality and that has to be worth a look.

ANIMAL FACTORY
Tuesday 8 July 2003
UGC West India Quay, London E14 VISIT

OK, so the recent run of hot weather means I’m behind on the reviews. What should I do, stay in when the summer could be over soon? Anyway, here’s the first of four reviews to bring me back up to date.

Prison dramas are now judged by the unassailable master of the genre - The Shawshank Redemption. ‘Animal Factory’ is no Shawshank, but it is still an enjoyable view of the harsh reality of US prisons that gets a bit weird towards the end by introducing an unlikely escape sub-plot.

Willem Dafoe, looking more cadaverous than ever with a bullet-shaved head, plays Earl, the old lag that befriends and protects Edward Furlong’s young new inmate Ron. The ‘new fish’ faces not only ten years in a maximum-security penitentiary for dealing weed, but also the unwelcome attention of other inmates because of his youthful good looks. Earl’s decision to ‘adopt’ him seems largely to be a means of making himself feel better, although Ron is initially suspicious and the prison authorities warn that it may be a prelude to something else, in a environment where homosexual power relationships abound. The relationship between the two men is undoubtedly ambiguous, with Earl willing to risk his settled life in the prison to help his new friend.

All this is fascinating and with an actor of the quality of Defoe, quite absorbing and believable. The plot’s sudden switch to a planned jailbreak, however, seems like a odd choice and a contrived method of winding up the story, to make screenwriter Edward Bunker’s point that Earl is better off being a big fish in a small pond. Still, this is an interesting and watchable addition to the ranks of the prison drama and a reminder that Willen Defoe remains a charismatic figure on screen – with or without hair!

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Sunday 29 June 2003
Stratford Picture House, London E15 VISIT

‘Nicholas Nickleby’ tells the story of a boy whose father dies, forcing the family to turn to wealthy Uncle Ralph for help with maintaining Nicholas’ mother and sister. To pay his way, Nicholas is sent off to teach at Dotheboys Hall, a crumbling boarding school run by the brutal Wackford Squeers and his equally unpleasant wife. There, Nicholas meets and befriends the orphaned Smike, (a strong performance by Billy Elliot star Jamie Bell) who has been treated ruthlessly by the Squeers. Together they escape to seek out fame and fortune in the wider world, first joining a theatrical troupe and then returning to London. All the time, however, the malevolent hand of Uncle Ralph reaches out to undo their plans.

The problem with Dicken’s classic novel about the life of Nicholas Nickleby is that it is very long, a series of episodes in one story, so it is hardly surprising that this latest attempt to adapt it has had to sacrifice depth for pace. At times, it also has the feel of a stage production. However, to make up for this drawback, rich comedy and pathos is provided by a fantastic ensemble cast that includes Jim Broadbent as Squeers, Juliet Stevenson as his vicious wife, Timothy Spall as one of the Cherryble brothers and even Barry Humphries (aka Dame Edna Everidge) in customary drag as Mrs Crummbles.

Despite the large cast of great character actors, however, this is principally Nicholas' story and the film’s success or failure is very much dependent on the actor in the title role. That it is not a resounding success is down to Charlie Hunnam, who played the innocent gay teenager in the television series Queer as Folk. Unfortunately, although Hunnam gives a reasonably good if unconvincing performance, he seems embarrassed by expressions of emotion and is acted off the screen by many of the other actors. He also a little too much like someone more comfortable with a surfboard than a top hat, which is a somewhat unfortunate! It is not helped that the intriguingly named Anne Hathaway portrays the woman Nicholas falls for, Madeleine, in an equally unconvincing performance. The actors that do stand out the most are Nathan Lane, as the very funny Mr Crummbles, and Christopher Plummer, whose Ralph Nickleby seethes with malice.

As Dicken’s adaptations go, this is enjoyable and worth checking out, if not a future winner of awards.

MAX
Tuesday 24 June 2003
UGC West India Quay, London E14 VISIT

‘Max’ is a somewhat surreal film about the fictional meeting in Munich of wealthy Jewish art dealer Max Rothman, played by the wonderful John Cusack, and a young Adolf Hitler (Noah Taylor), then a Corporal in the German Army, who helps deliver champagne to one of Max's gallery parties.

It is the end of the First World War, Germany is about to sign the humiliating terms of the Treaty of Versailles and both men have served in the bloody Third Battle of Ypres, where Rothman has recently returned after losing an arm. Both men are also painters, but Max’s ambitions have been destroyed by his disability, which may explain why he decides to encourage the self-righteous, pompous and anti-Semitic Hitler to find his artistic voice. Hitler, lacking the talent and the patience to be the great artist he believes he is, discovers a greater talent for demagogic speech-making, but is continually drawn back to art.

Max is portrayed as a man whose energy and optimism enable him to remain obstinately oblivious to the anti-Semitism growing around him, dismissing it as arguments he has heard all his life and misunderstanding the threat behind Hitler's pencil drawings of jack-booted soldiers and eagle encrested skyscrapers. He views them as little more than "future kitsch" and anticipates the coming reluctance of many German Jews to see the danger that lies around them. Both Cusack and Taylor give brilliant performances, with Taylor’s portrayal of Hitler as a antisocial loner, his anti-Semitism reflecting his need to blame someone else for his own failures, capturing expertly the sense of ‘the banality of evil.’ Cusack is also excellent as the opposite of Hitler, a man who is charming and gregarious in a way that gives Cusack the chance to light up the screen with his charisma. The interaction between the two is intense and often very funny as a result.

Historically dubious perhaps, and with other characters barely drawn at all, but still an intriguing film with two excellent leads. Cusack’s performance is more of a reminder of his charismatic gunman Martin Blank in Grosse Point Blank than his more subdued role in Identity and I think is the better for it.

By the way, this really was the only film I wanted or could possibly bring myself to see this week. What ever happened to the hype about the summer being the peak period for great films?

IGBY GOES DOWN
Sunday 15 June 2003
UGC West India Quay, London E14 VISIT

The second film of the weekend was the terrific ‘Igby Goes Down,’ starring Macaulay Culkin’s little brother Kieran as seventeen year old Igby, a troubled rich kid expelled from almost every school on the East Coast. His father is in an mental institution and his pill popping mother, played wonderfully by Susan Sarandon, hates him with a vicious relish, telling Igby's reptilian brother Oliver that "his creation was an act of animosity, why shouldn't his life be?" Shipped off to military academy, Igby manages to escape and ends up working for his wealthy godfather DH Baines (Jeff Goldblum). At a party at the Baines home, he first flirts with DH’s mistress Rachel and then meets a student working for the caterers, Sookie (Claire Danes), whom he will eventually end up falling for. Both women lead him into a hilarious New York Bohemian lifestyle that includes dealing drugs to his former teachers.

What I find astonishing is that ‘Igby Goes Down’ has been compared to the mind-numbingly terrible Royal Tenenbaums. Although both are about wealthy, eccentric and dysfunctional families and both have characters with flawed and hypocritical personalities, ‘Igby Goes Down’ is brilliantly scripted and genuinely funny. What helps is Culkin’s performance, which is hugely sympathetic and demonstrates where the real acting talent lies in the Culkin household. Although Igby is witty and seemingly full of confidence, he is also very vulnerable and sensitive, especially about his relationships with his mother and father, which makes him completely riveting to watch. Sadly I couldn’t have cared one way or the other about any other characters in the Royal Tenenbaums and never made it to the end of that particular film.

One of the most interesting and enjoyable films I’ve seen all year. Highly recommended.

IDENTITY
Saturday 14 June 2003
UGC West India Quay, London E14 VISIT

My film-viewing has recently got a little behind (not unlike of Kylie Minogue, ho, ho!), so I managed to catch two films over the weekend.

On the face of it, the first of these seemed to be based on the most clichéd of script ideas. A collection of characters are brought together by rising floodwater one dark and stormy night in a motel straight out of Alfred Hitchcock’s imagination. One is the very essence of a difficult and fading Hollywood movie star, whose car knocks down the wife of a man repairing a blown tire at thr roadside, forcing the chauffeur to seek help at the motel. But then the film star’s head turns up in the laundry room dryer and the motel guests begin to die one by one. At first it seems obvious that the convict who has slipped his shackles is responsible, but when he dies too, everyone becomes a suspect.

What rescues ‘Identity’ from B-movie status is actors of the calibre of Ray Liotta as Rhodes, the US Marshall transporting the convict across the state, and the great John Cusack (of Grosse Point Blank fame) as Ed, the chauffeur. The cinematography is also excellent, helping to create a genuinely oppressive atmosphere, and there are some impressive special effects, not least a scene where one character is knocked down by a car that made everyone in the audience jump.

What is more disconcerting is the frankly bizarre twist, which helps explain the film’s title but is so far removed from the rest of the script that it just doesn’t work. Worse still, it comes twenty minutes before the end, meaning that a further attempt at a twist before the credits roll isn’t shocking in the slightest.

Not the worst film I have seen this year – indeed, as a horror film, the first two thirds are genuinely tense. But the attempted switch to psychological drama fails to deliver.