December 18, 2011
When I was a kid I was obsessed with two things: Sherlock Holmes and the dubbed English language version of the Japanese TV show, Monkey. Seemingly, these two things have nothing in common; one is about an aloof, analytical, brilliant English detective – while the other is about an Asian guy in make-up doing bad karate. However, it’s clear from Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows that director Guy Ritchie has made a connection between these two, and the resulting film is exactly the kind of escapist nonsense that defined British television back in the eighties. Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes is like magician David Blaine crossed with Chuck Norris, he’s a cross-dressing bohemian Kung Fu master who also dabbles as a sleuth.
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American Film, Film Reviews | Tagged: Guy Ritchie, Rachel McAdams, Robert Downey Jr | 
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Posted by jtatham
December 4, 2011
Aliens aren’t born; they’re made out of fear. Sounds ominous, doesn’t it? Well, don’t worry. I don’t intend to write a serious review of The Thing. Movie aliens aren’t projected out of existential dread. Their origins are rarely so subtle, or enlightening. Movie aliens are mostly crude manifestations of latent phobias…and blatant prejudice. Think of the penis-shaped monsters in Alien, or the dreadlocks worn by the Predator. Hate-filled extra-terrestrials are usually dreamed-up by hate-filled little men. I’m half-way sure the new version of The Thing is surreptitiously homophobic (but more on that later). It’s strange the way creatures from other worlds are always made out of the icky parts of things we find on Earth.
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Leave a Comment » | American Film, Film Reviews | Tagged: Alien, Kurt Russell, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Predator | Permalink
Posted by jtatham
November 27, 2011
This is a movie about fearing the end of the world. It’s more about anxiety than the apocalypse. Whatever metaphors are contained in the script, the sense of impending doom is palpable, and unsettling. The whole film plays like a bad dream, where hidden meaning is secondary to throat-sucking dread. All horror films are about the same thing, but they let you off when the nightmare takes shape. In Take Shelter, fear is amorphous. We don’t know if the worst is real, or inside a man’s head. And that uncertainty is the conceit. Worry drives you mad. But worry warns you of danger too. It paralyses you even as it prompts you to act. That’s why the gift of prophesy is so alluring. Once you’re certain, you don’t feel angst.
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Posted by jtatham
November 20, 2011
Yes, you get to see Michael Fassbender’s penis in this movie. And yes, it’s big. But full frontal male nudity can’t hide the religious aspect of this film. I know the guys who made the Narnia movies have an idea of what “religious” means. But they’re wrong. Shame is a true religious movie. And not because anyone in it espouses religion; not because anyone is (I shudder to even use the word) “saved”; but because this film is about being human, because it abides with shame. Those who know Wim Wender’s Wings of Desire will be hard pressed not to picture an angel sat beside Michael Fassbender as he rides the subway. Love might be totally absent from this man’s life, but that only makes his struggle more profound.
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1 Comment | American Film, Film Reviews | Tagged: Carey Mulligan, Michael Fassbender, Wings of Desire | Permalink
Posted by jtatham
November 13, 2011
There is always an audience for hokum. Whether it’s an inspirational teacher story where the teacher only has one class, or a fight for justice where the lawyer breaks down in tears, the fantasy version of reality is always a sure bet for good box office returns. Nowhere is this more the case than in movies about the civil rights movement in America. According to Hollywood, there was such a tiny minority of actual bigots in the South, it’s a wonder racial segregation got started in the first place. As the new adaptation of Kathryn Stockett’s novel, The Help makes clear: white folks were just itching to do right by African Americans in the 1960s. The only mystery is why black people didn’t ask white folks for help earlier…
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Posted by jtatham
October 16, 2011
There may be a movie that could save Mel Gibson’s career, but this ain’t it. Never mind the premise. The Beaver is flawed from top to bottom because there isn’t a single scene you believe. Every metaphor in the script is leaden; every possibility of black humour is ignored. The family at the centre are a bad writer’s idea of a family. And no homily is rejected as being too corny or undeserved. Frankly, I wanted to flog screenwriter Kyle Killen with that damn glove-puppet. His writing has about as much truth as an anti-aging commercial. Make no mistake: this is a shallow precocious screenplay. It’s all hat and no cattle, as the saying goes. Like a bad ventriloquist, all you can hear is a lack of talent talking at you.
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Leave a Comment » | American Film, Film Reviews | Tagged: jodie foster, Kyle Killen, Mel Gibson, Percy Bysshe Shelley | Permalink
Posted by jtatham
September 25, 2011
L.A. is a road that the city runs through. If you haven’t got a car in Los Angeles, you’re homeless. I know you could say the same about much of America, but no other big city is so in thrall to the steering wheel. You can’t see L.A. unless you drive. You’re not a part of it unless you’re looking out a window. No-one gets away in L.A. crime stories because a clean getaway means the end of the road: think of Faye Dunaway dying in a car in Chinatown, or Robert De Niro choosing death as he drives through the 2nd Street Tunnel in Heat. Director Nicolas Winding Refn can’t drive, in real life, but he understands the car’s hold over Los Angeles. Drive is a movie about hunger for the road, and the people the road kills.
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Posted by jtatham
September 12, 2011
Charlotte Bronte didn’t like Jane Austen. It’s only the veil of years – and the tedium of high school – which makes them seem the same. The spirited heroines might look synonymous, and the brooding heroes might sound alike, but no-one ever hung a dead dog from a tree in Jane Austen; Mr Darcy wasn’t hiding a mad woman in the attic; and no-one ever feared for their mortal soul in Pride and Prejudice. Charlotte wrote of Jane that her writing was “carefully-fenced”, which is a nice way of saying “bullshit”. Fair enough, I’m projecting here, but if the Brontes had ever met Jane in a dark alley, I’m pretty sure they’d have wrinkled her crinoline. The Bronte sisters didn’t write about etiquette; they wrote about the jungle.
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Leave a Comment » | American Film, Film Reviews | Tagged: Cary Fukunaga, Charlotte Bronte, Mia Wasikowska | Permalink
Posted by jtatham
July 29, 2011
Starting over isn’t easy. Most of us live with wreckage in our heads. The calamities of the past don’t just get up and walk away; they hang around, like unwanted tenants, drumming on your skull. That’s why people who say “it’s never too late” should be strangled with rainbows. Any trite response should be met with force. As adults, we need to reconcile ourselves with mountains. That takes some doing. Only incipient people can change without stress. For those who’ve lived, change can feel like you’re unravelling. Mike Mills’ new movie, Beginners, is about adults stumbling into a new phase of their lives. They stumble because they’re not ignorant of history. Their new lives are always mindful of the past.
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1 Comment | American Film, Film Reviews | Tagged: Ewan McGregor, Mary Page Keller, Mike Mills, Velveteen Rabbit | Permalink
Posted by jtatham
July 24, 2011
I guess, if David Cronenberg can make a movie out of Crash, he can make a movie out of Cosmopolis. Both books are about looming death and dirty secrets; the killing sweep of history. This could be the film that springs R-Patz from his Twilight jail. The protagonist here isn’t American Psycho’s Patrick Bateman, but he’s the same slice of money. As usual in Don DeLillo’s fiction, there’s no real interest in women as individuals. Life is a dick-swinging contest for DeLillo. He writes like Nietzsche crossed with Tom Clancy. In every book, every man has the same anxiety: Am I big enough (to matter, on a cosmic scale)? Who’s better than me? Imagine a personal ad: Self-important man seeks answers. Must be cryptic. Violence preferred.
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Leave a Comment » | American Film, Book Reviews | Tagged: Don DeLillo, Robert Pattinson, Samuel Beckett, Tom Clancy | Permalink
Posted by jtatham
