The titular “number” in question refers to the number of people one has slept with, or at least, the number that is deemed to be acceptable. According to a magazine Ally Darling (Faris) reads immediately after getting fired, women who sleep with over twenty men are much less likely to land themselves a marriage proposal than those at the “national average of 10.5″. Seeing as she’s teetering on the precipice of that particular statistic at a total of 19 partners, and seeing as she’s helping her younger sister Daisy (Ari Graynor; Whip It) plan her wedding, Ally decides to sift through her former lovers to see if any have evolved into anything worthy of revisiting. Assisting Ally in her silly (and episodic) quest is Colin (Chris Evans; Captain America), her womanizing and almost always shirtless neighbour. Ally wades through the rejects, battles her overbearing mother (Blythe Danner; Little Fockers) and trips over herself the requisite amount of times for a romantic comedy, all the while oblivious to the man of her dreams right under her nose. If you’re on a quest for innovation and originality, you’ll not be finding it here.

That being said, however, I found myself enjoying my time with What’s Your Number? Anna Faris is, as always, the right amount of endearingly-ditzy blonde. Her malleable face, the always-surprised eyes, and her ability to actually incite laughter while taking a pratfall; they all work wonders in her favour. While I didn’t feel any sort of profound emotional connection to Ally, at least one can safely say that she’s enjoyable and amusing company. Colin too is hardly a deviation from the usual rom-com womaniser-until-he-meets-our-heroine romantic lead, but Chris Evans does a pleasingly charismatic and likable job of portraying him. Ally and Colin share and engage in the usual plot points one would expect; lazing and laughing around the house together, a romantic drink on a rooftop, a night of crazy daring antics — Break into a basketball stadium! Jump into the harbour! — to cement their emotional connection, an argument right when they’re oh so close to getting together, and (of course) a post-fight sprint through the city in which Ally destroys a perfectly awful dress as she races back to the man of her dreams.

What’s irritating about What’s Your Number? isn’t that it’s not enjoyable for what it is, but because of the missed opportunities littered throughout. Ally’s run-ins with her ex-boyfriends are for the most part funny, but they really could have been much funnier (Andy Samberg in particular is sorely underused). Similarly, after the film’s opening, I was hoping for some social commentary regarding the double standard for men and women when it comes to “sleeping around”, or at least something a little insightful as to what constitutes a “whore” or a failure vs marriage material. I suppose as a message “you’ll find a man who loves you for who you are no matter how much you’ve slept around” is a good one in the end. Unfortunately, in place of insight and edginess was fluff, and a spunky female lead on a frantic quest to find a husband before she becomes some sort of ruined woman. Disappointing, to say the least. Admittedly, these gripes surface during 95% of rom-coms I watch, but it was of particular irritation during What’s Your Number? given the premise, and therefore the opportunity for interesting observations. With all that  in mind however, it’s testament to Anna Faris and Chris Evans that I actually forgot my complaints and actually had a right old laugh at a fair few points. Of particular hilarity is a sequence featuring Martin Freeman, which sees Ally’s fake British accent descend into the realms of Eliza Doolittle and, yes, Borat.

What’s Your Number? isn’t going to blow you away. It’s not raunchy enough, it’s not insightful enough, and it could have been funnier. Still, the performances and chemistry of the leads do wonders to elevate the material, as do a number of the ex-boyfriends encountered. This is the latest in the slew of female-driven raunchy rom-coms, but unfortunately Bridesmaids it is not. Better luck next time, Ms Faris.

How Do You Know (Review)

Observe and Report (Review)

Australian Box Office 14/8/11: Green Lantern the brightest star

One Day (Review)

Captain America: The First Avenger (Review)

Higher Ground visits Corinne at various stages of her life, at each point considering her relationship with her family and to the church. After narrowly avoiding tragedy by way of a car crash, the young Corinne (played by Farmiga’s younger sister, Taissa) and her husband Ethan enter in earnest to a born-again Christian. Shortly after, we meet an adult Corinne and her family in their position as prominent members of their evangelical community in the 1960s. One would be misleading to describe Higher Ground as a film in which “lots of things happen”. Honestly, they kind of don’t. Rather, it’s a fascinating and occasionally moving portrait of a vibrant, intelligent and naturally curious woman who feels increasingly stifled by her conservative yet well-meaning circle of existence.

What’s immensely refreshing about Higher Ground is that none of the characters — be they believers or otherwise — are ever portrayed as anything more than they are. Corinne’s alcoholic father (John Hawkes) is never a villain. Her devout born-again ex-musician husband (Joshua Leonard) isn’t depicted as a religious nut, nor are the other members of their congregation. Never are believers portrayed as having all of the answers, or anything resembling a perfect life. Equally, neither is it implied that without faith also comes an unfulfilled existence. Yes, Corinne does feel suppressed in her marriage, as well as in a community where she’s reprimanded for appearing to be “preaching” to male members of the congregation. That being said, however, Farmiga doesn’t take any heavy-handed shots at the members of Corinne’s sect; they’re all decent people doing their best to be good people (while also spending a hell of a lot of their time plucking at guitars and singing). At one point Ethan cries out for assistance from above in ridding Satan from the car in which he and Corinne just fought. This scene could have been mined for a cheap laugh at the hands of another director, or as an example of over-zealous weirdness. Yet under Farmiga’s guidance, it manages to be a sincere and honest glimpse at a man struggling to deal with the set of hurdles his life is suddenly faced with.

While we’re on the topic of sincere and honest (how’s that for a segue?), the great joy of Higher Ground are the performances to be found within it. Joshua Leonard is excellent as Ethan, as is Damara Dominczyk as Corinne’s free spirited confidante, Annika. Taissa Farmiga is a perfect little mini-Corinne, possessing the same quiet and enigmatic gaze as her elder sister. The director/star though, is truly the sight to behold. Farmiga carries the film with ease, as well as with those alarmingly blue eyes and a cackling, infectious laughter. Farmiga imbues Corinne with a believability, both within her faith and her increasing disillusionment. Plus, the camera is absolutely in love with her face. That much can’t be denied.

I’m sure that some who sit down to watch Higher Ground will have gripes with the pace and the lack of action, but I had no such complaints. Frequently moving, frequently funny, a pleasure to look at, a fascinating world to drop in on; Vera Farmiga has added yet one more notch to add to her belt of things that she is good at.

Abbie Cornish joins Vera Farmiga for Madonna’s royal scandal biopic ‘W.E’

Tiny Furniture (MIFF Review)

Orphan (Review)

Up in the Air (Review)

Source Code (Review)

The relationship in question here the one depicted in Lone Scherfig’s adaptation of David Nicholls best-seller, One Day. It’s between Dexter (Jim Sturgess; The Way Back) and Emma (Anne Hathaway; Love and Other Drugs), two friends who essentially take the two decades previously mentioned to realise that they’re meant to be. As to whether you’ll find the film agreeable or not, that’s going to be intrinsically linked with your stance on the genre best described as ‘the weepy’.

Dexter and Emma graduate from university on July 15, 1988. This happens to be St Swithin’s day, as Dexter informs Emma on the morning of their first encounter. They very nearly sleep together that morning, running into a near miss after a night of celebrating their graduation. It’s then that Emma and Dexter decide to be friends, thus beginning the story of their entwined lives.

It’s on St Swithin’s Day every year that we check in on the Dex & Em to see where they’re at. Sometimes they’re together, sometimes they’re not. Sometimes the mood is joyous, but more often than not one of them is in dire need of the other, of friendly advice and comfort. By keeping to the one day per year, One Day rollicks along at a fine pace, although some might find the episodic structure a cause for slight irritation. In the months between each July 15 events obviously occur, but if they don’t transpire on July 15, they take place off-screen. In rather heavy-handed symbolism, Emma enquires about Dexter’s new tattoo. It’s a yin yang symbol he explains, “a perfect union of opposites.” Dexter, who finds success early, turns into a coked-up twat TV host and quickly hits rock bottom. Emma, who puts her literary dreams on the back burner immediately after university grows in strength and confidence (and beauty, as Anne Hathaway loses the silly, over-sized spectacles) as the year-counter ticks along.  They go through a lot, that much is clear. So, one hast to hope that the two leads have chemistry. Luckily for One Day, they do.

Without a doubt, I’m of the opinion that if it weren’t for Jim Sturgess and Anne Hathaway, I would have enjoyed One Day far less. The pair possess on-screen chemistry above the necessary quota, and for this the goings-on are elevated in quality and believability. Jim Sturgess imbues Dexter with the right amount of cockiness and bravado, makes him an irritating toff, but not a d*ck that one is inclined to hate. Here’s a fun fact (I’ll say ‘fact’, but it’s really just me postulating) about Anne Hathaway. She is blessed with some sort of skill or naturally occurring ability to remain a likable onscreen presence, even while speaking in one of the worst English accents I’ve heard in a long while. It’s really bad. Really bad. Aside from that, Hathaway’s performance is solid, and certainly she has a number of really fine, often humourous and endearing moments.

But — and it’s a big but — there’s just something about One Day that didn’t work for me. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it’s the weepiness of the goings-on, which brings me back to that question of the execution of a weepy mentioned earlier. To me, Lone Scherfig appeared to be hell-bent on squeezing every bit of emotion out of every reel. There’s grandiose where there should have been simple. There’s cheap sentimentality where there should have been a whole lot of delving into the core of characters we have to spend no less than two decades with. Scenes seem overwrought and mawkish, gestures seem a little heavy-handed, there’s a fair amount of ponderousness. Yes, this onscreen courtship did cross the line into “getting out of hand” and “maudlin”. And this is where my warning earlier regarding one’s stance on the weepy comes in. If you don’t mind a film doing its utmost to make you reach for the Kleenex, then chances are you’ll have no problem with One Day. To its credit, it is a notch above the usual romantic dramedy fare of recent memory. However, I dare say I would have cared far more for Dexter and Emma if Lone Scherfig (and this is such a shame to say, after An Education) had opted for a less is more approach rather than taking a leaf out of the Weepy How-To book.

Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess to spend ‘One Day’ together

Anne Hathaway is Catwoman in ‘The Dark Knight Rises’

No Strings Attached (Review)

Love and Other Drugs (Review)

Bride Wars (Review)

“Bands change, kiddo.” I’d say.

And upon saying that, I’d probably lean back and sigh and wish that the corresponding cinema event was released a decade or more ago.

Right off the bat, it must be said that I’m With You – the film, not the album — is strictly for the fans. I can’t imagine someone who isn’t a fan of the Chilis being compelled to watch the band perform their new album live in its entirety — the only time this will be happening, the filmmakers are eager to stress. Certainly, I’m With You has its moments in which that old RHCP greatness and intensity appears to shine through. Unfortunately, these moments are rare. Viewed in a larger context of the Chili oeuvre, I’m With You – both the film and the album — is simply adequate, nothing more.

I’m With You is presented as a “Cinema Event”, rather than merely a “Concert Film”. Shot in Germany, the band’s first and only live performance of ”I’m With You” was broadcast live — I have my doubts that it was completely live — in American cinemas on August 31 and then repeated on September 1. Complete with a counter at the bottom of the screen announcing the decreasing minutes to when the band take the stage, the filmmakers go to great lengths in attempting to build a sense of tension and excitement. The band is interviewed, with Kiedis announcing that they’ve just scraped together learning the songs in the nick of time. The band speaks excitedly of the fact that this will be a debut of sorts for new axe-man Josh Klinghoffer. However, unfortunately for Australian audiences, I’m With You won’t be screened until early October. Thus the sense of anticipation, that of a big reveal, felt somewhat muted.

As far as Chili Peppers concerts go, if you’re expecting an intensity equal to that of days of yore, you might consider the gig captured here in glorious high definition as a bit muted. It’s serviceable, yes, and as mentioned before it does occasionally contain glimpses of greatness. Drummer Chad Smith is as excellent as ever, and bassist Flea seems enthusiastic as always, doing most of the audience addressing, even taking a turn at the piano. Front-man Anthony Kiedis, meanwhile, occasionally seems unsure of the lyrics to the new songs, and at times struggles with odd time signatures. Long-time RHCP off-sider and friend Josh Klinghoffer performs admirably as the new guitarist, stepping into the formidable and well-loved shoes of John Frusciante, who departed the band in 2008. One has to feel for Klinghoffer, joining a band once steeped in innovation and potent intensity, but now yielding nothing much in the way of revelations. He’s certainly a talented musician though, and it’ll be interesting to see if some young blood will teach the old dogs new tricks.

I have one beef with this particular film/live concert/cinema event that stands out and above all other beefs: the running time. Have you listened to an album from start to finish lately? It’s a serious commitment listening to an LP from cover to cover in a single sitting. I still do it from time to time — heck, I still make use of my record player — but I certainly wouldn’t do it for “I’m With You”. I dare say that being in the audience of this concert would have been enjoyable and exciting, as live gigs usually are. However, sitting in a cinema through the overly ponderous opening sequence preamble, then the pre-show interviews, then the unfamiliar 14 songs of the new album grew tiring, and conducive to fidgeting. Perhaps it’s a problem the Chilis have to address, after the incredibly superfluous double album that was ”Stadium Arcadium”. Yes there is enjoyment to be had, but I found that after 90 minutes with no end in sight, I was well and truly restless.

I’m With You is beautifully shot. There are a few “greatest hits” at the show’s close. I enjoyed a great many moments of the concert, admired the talents of four powerful musicians who have been at it since before my birth. Unfortunately, this is the realm of the still die-hard fan. And unfortunately for the 15-year-old me, I’m not one of those anymore. Perhaps a feature-length documentary would have been a wiser choice than this. Watch if you enjoyed the album, if you love RHCP, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I’m With You is screening in selected cinemas October 4 & 5.

Michael Jackson’s This Is It (Review)

Back To The Future 25th Anniversary

81st Academy Awards Red Carpet

Anvil! The Story of Anvil (Review)

Glamour of the Globes

I suppose one could also expect without much fear of disappointment quite a bit of sexual longing writhing within the shadows of some looming gothic castle. As well as underneath the many layers of clothing worn by the inhabitants of said dark and looming castle, a castle probably growing out of rolling hills of the green and grey English countryside. Jane Eyre does not disappoint on any of those points. In fact, I’d venture to say that any vampire-loving authors out there could take a few tips from Ms Brontë and Mr Fukunaga when it comes to matters of forbidden love between a brooding, tortured man and a virginal, “small and plain” yet strong-willed girl.

We’re introduced to our heroine, the eponymous Jane (Australia’s Mia Wasikowska; Alice in Wonderland), as she races and stumbles through a dark and stormy countryside. Distraught, probably near death, it’s a dynamic (and surprising) opening to the film. It seems indicative then, of the myriad emotions that bubble and squirm underneath the surface – occasionally exploding out – from that point on for Jane. Through flashbacks, we’re told of her Dickensian childhood. She endures physical and emotional abuse at the hands of her father’s family (including Sally Hawkins, not looking nearly as cheerful as she usually does), then at a cold and dark charity school where her best friend dies. Grim, no?

The young Jane grows up and finds work as a governess at Thornfield, and it’s there that she meets Edward Rochester (Michael Fassbender; X-men First Class). It’s also within the walls of Thornfield that things really begin to spice up. I’ve heard that in Brontë’s novel Mr Rochester is described as being no spring chicken, no spring chicken that may have been hit with the ugly stick. I’ll tell you this, Michael Fassbender is neither one of these things. Even if he’s been hit with the opposite of the ugly stick, Fassbender has in spades what it takes to be a Byronic hero. He glowers, he’s alluring in a threatening kind of way, he looms over the tiny Mia Wasikowska. He does “tortured” like no one I’ve seen in a while. The energy he exudes is at once menacing and full of lust; the tension between he and Wasikowska can more often than not be described as palpable, yet never forced.

Speaking of Miss Wasikowska, she manages to find an admirable balance between being a “small and plain” girl, appearing as if she could be snapped in two like a twig, yet also being every bit a strong-willed, virtuous and intelligent heroine of this proto-feminist story. Jane is strong in her convictions, longs for an independent life, and never bends in her morals – even if it means sacrificing something she loves. Wasikowska manages to carry Jane Eyre, playing the eponymous heroine with restraint. That being said, one can see all those emotions, be it anger, pridem sadness or lust, about to crack through her still exterior.

Cary Fukunaga’s adaptation is one that is suitably restrained, with has a vague sense of foreboding, that something might go wrong at any moment. It’s all repressed emotions, sexual longing, self-denial, and Rochester’s dark past and secrets. I don’t know how faithful it is, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t get swept up in the drama and beauty of this particular version. Jane Eyre is elegantly shot, gorgeous to look at (and that’s completely disregarding how good Mr Fassbender looks in period get-up). I will say this though, Fukunaga would be wise to put his skills to use on a horror project. I’m sure the result would be one of the finest of the genre in recent years, such was the suspense built during a number of scenes. I had my scarf up to my cheeks and half-expected a ghoul of some sort to jump out at Jane, a la Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (now that’s a book I have read). Fukunaga’s Jane Eyre has all the ingredients — tortured older man, chaste and feisty heroine, the English countryside, pretty dresses, a love story — of a period drama that one would expect, yet none of the snooze factor many of my friends would argue also comes with it. In fact, it’s really rather exciting, as well as quite moving.

If it’s any indication of my enjoyment of the film, then let it be said that I’ve since bought Jane Eyre in book format.

Australian Box Office 14/8/11: Green Lantern the brightest star

Give ‘Em Hell, Malone (Review)

Australian Box Office 28/8/11: Horrible Bosses relates

Role Models (Review)

Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess to spend ‘One Day’ together

It’s timely then, that Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman’s Howl focuses on Beat icon Allen Ginsberg’s (portrayed superbly by James Franco) poem of the same name. Along with Jack Kerouac’s “On the Road”, I’d venture to say they’re the two most important texts of that particular scene. Certainly, they’re the most popular, and the two that describe the happenings and feelings and personalities of the scene most readily and engagingly. Allen Ginsberg’s seminal poem “Howl” is justifiably considered a classic. Like so many classic texts, however, its reception upon its initial release was fraught with controversy, which is one thing that Howl the film covers.

Like the hippies that followed them in the 1960s, the Beats of the 50s represented a break, a decisive gap and post-war change from the parental generation that came before them. This scene, this world, can only be viewed and experienced by the generations that followed through the photographs and the art that so vividly described it. The world of Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Neal Cassasdy, it’s all there in stream-of-consciousness, gorgeous writing (can you tell I’m a fan?) and endlessly, effortlessly cool black and white photos and first-hand accounts.

It was equal parts relief and interest, then, that I discovered in the first few minutes of the film that the directors had chosen to opt for a faux-documentary feel for Howl. Given the impact Ginsberg and his peers have had on generations that came after them, it would have been very easy to place the figures that the poem concerns itself with on hero pedestals. Out when most were firmly in the closet, having written a poem that – for a time – was illegal to sell, it would have been all to easy to paint Ginsberg as a Hero and never anything less glorious (like, for instance, a timid and lovelorn wannabe poet). In my opinion that would have also been a lazy option. Thankfully, the directors play for restraint. Rather than a completely dramatised account of Ginsberg’s life and the process of writing “Howl”, the screenplay has largely been compiled from interviews with Ginsberg himself, as well as transcripts from the poem’s obscenity trial.

Howl cuts between scenes from the obscenity trial, scenes from an interview conducted with Ginsberg (both placed in 1957), and the poem’s first tentative reading at a coffee house in 1955. In addition to this, interspersed throughout the film are adult, often abstract animations based on illustrations by Eric Drooker from his “Illuminated Poems” collaboration with Ginsberg. They accompany a reading of the poem, spread over the film’s running time, eventually covering the “Howl” in its entirety. It seemed fitting of a poet of Ginsberg’s sensibilities that the low-budget film concerning itself with his most popular work would embrace a form so unconventional.

The task of portraying Allen Ginsberg, hero to so many, is not a task to be scoffed at in the slightest. James Franco, while perhaps a little too good-looking even behind glasses, performs admirably. He gets the speech and inflections down pat, having obviously spent countless hours researching his role’s mannerisms. He muses and ponders and smokes during the “interview” scenes, giving a glimpse into the public figure poet Ginsberg was to become. Played with restraint though, Franco also captures the timid uncertainty of the more straightforward biographical flashback scenes of the years preceding “Howl”. Uncertain of his homosexuality, afraid of giving himself emotionally, afraid of his daddy seeing the filth he’d written, we see his crush on Kerouac, his confusing affair with Cassady. Franco is really fine during these scenes in particular, giving the film an emotional grounding. I thankfully found myself forgetting that I had seen him in everything from 127 Hours to General Hospital of late. Also particularly good are the scenes in a crowded, smokey coffee-house, in which Ginsberg reads “Howl” for the first time. In no mean feat, Epstein and Friedman capture the excitement and energy of an audience quickly realising they’re witnessing something great unfolding before them.

The courtroom scenes however, while certainly interesting, suffer from the fact that Ginsberg did not attend the trial of City Lights Books publisher Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Also unfortunate is the fact that we do not see Lawrence Ferlinghetti speak at all. It’s interesting to note though, that the dialogue of the court room scenes are apparently transposed from actual court room transcripts. So one knows that any absurd-sounding exchanges actually took place. As Ferlinghetti’s defense, Mad Men‘s Jon Hamm is strong, if at times seeming to be Don Draper-as-lawyer. Similarly, David Strathairn is good as the prosecution, as is Bob Balaban as a judge. Unfortunately, this portion of Howl never really rises to the heights one would hope it would.

I also took issue with the animations. I acknowledge and appreciate that it was an inventive way to approach the form of the film, as well as a way to include “Howl” in its entirety throughout the film. And certainly, it provides some amazing imagery, complementing the language of the poem. Unfortunately, at times I grew tired of the oft-over-the-top animation. Verdict? A bit much. Frankly, I much preferred the coffee-house reading of the poem. But again, I acknowledge that having the (very long) “Howl” read out entirely in that dimly lit coffee house would have been rather dull, even with Franco’s spirited reading.

In short, Howl is enjoyable and interesting portrait of a cultural icon. Perhaps more interesting for fans of Ginsberg and the Beat generation, but definitely worth tracking down (it’s only in limited release). The animations might be a bit much, but making a film about “Howl” was never going to be an easy, straightforward task. Howl occasionally misses, but mostly it hits, thanks in large part to James Franco, who shines as one of the Beat generation’s most fascinating figures.

Between The Aisles – The Year One trailer, Brad and Nat sell their stuff & the loss of Natasha Richardson

Between The Aisles – Anne Hathaway to play Judy Garland, Sean Penn to play Stooge, & Premiere of Where The Wild Things Are Trailer

127 Hours (Second Take Review)

127 Hours (Review)

Summer Hours (Review)

As far as those interesting characters, painfully true situations, and funnies go, How Do You Know is sorely lacking.

Brooks’ latest begins with Lisa (Reese Witherspoon; Walk the Line), a professional softball player whose career is drawing to a close. She apparently makes everyone on the team better, she apparently is a fantastic player, but she’ll be 31 by the time the next Olympics come around, and so she is cut. She’s entering into a relationship with Matty (Owen Wilson; Little Fockers), another professional baseball player. He’s a womaniser, a narcissist, but he’s likable and Lisa declares that she “needs insensitivity” at this particular juncture in her life. So she moves in with him. Then moves out. Then might move back in. There to comfort her is businessman George (Paul Rudd; Dinner For Schmucks), whom she bumps into in an elevator. He works for a company owned by his manipulative father (Jack Nicholson; The Bucket List), and he’s about to be investigated for corporate malfeasance. He’s a nice, serious guy, but he has no clue as to what it is exactly that he’s done. One thing he does know, however, is that he’s falling for Lisa.

While billed as a romantic comedy, How Do You Know proves itself to be neither very romantic, nor very funny. Even the cast appear to be aware of this; Reese Witherspoon, who is usually quite charming and comedic, seems uncomfortable as Lisa. We’re told, rather than shown, that she’s a lovely person who makes everyone around her ten times better than they usually are. Sure, she spouts a lot of self-help statements and her bathroom is littered with colourful paper bearing motivational slogans, but I didn’t buy it. Nor did I buy Paul Rudd’s George suddenly becoming completely enamoured with her. It’s always clear that George is the better match for Lisa, but there just isn’t enough chemistry between the two for us to believe or care quite enough whether they do end up together. Jack Nicholson, sadly, ends up being sorely underused. Having found so much success with Nicholson in the past, here Brooks casts him in mere caricature. Sure, there are some fine scenes (George’s lame attempts at making a move come to mind) and maybe a couple of laugh-out-loud moments, but a few good moments here and there doesn’t add up to cohesive whole.

Mercifully, How Do You Know holds a couple of redeeming features in the performances of Owen Wilson and Paul Rudd. Rudd, ever likable, provides not only a few chuckles, but a bit of spark as the put-upon George. There’s only so much one can squeeze out of a script that is lacking, and Rudd  gives an admirable attempt. Even if he and Witherspoon lack chemistry, he does reach the end credits without having become irritating — a rarity in modern rom-coms. Wilson, too, manages to inject charm into and pull some endearing moments out of the womanising Matty. Luckily for Wilson, Matty proves himself to be the most interesting character in the film. Perhaps the film should have been about him? He’s a player, yes, and he may be immature, but he really means well and is actually completely oblivious to what he’s doing wrong to Lisa. Combined with Wilson’s natural onscreen energy and boyish charm, Matty ends up being one of the few aspects of How Do You Know worth remembering.

Casting begins on Judd Apatow’s ‘Knocked Up’ spin-off

Dinner for Schmucks (Review)

Meet the Parents: Little Fockers (Review)

Our Idiot Brother (MIFF Review)

What’s Your Number? (Review)

For those not in the know (or those who have been hiding in a cave with limited film news capabilities), the film follows teenage Mattie Ross’ quest to avenge her father’s death. During a post-barroom argument, he drunkenly shot and killed by “the coward Tom Chaney”, and she is doggedly determined to find him and have him brought to justice. She enlists the help of grizzled and drunken US Marshall Rooster Cogburn – who she is convinced has “true grit” – and the younger Texas Ranger LeBoeuf. Originally published as a novel by Charles Portis, one can expect that the plots of the two subsequent film adaptations have warped somewhat from the source material. However, as I haven’t read the novel, nor have I seen the Coen brothers’ take on it, I can really only hazard an educated guess at how they differ exactly. That, and get swept up in the first filmic interpretation of the story. That’s quite easily done, I’m happy to report.

The first thing that becomes clear as True Grit winds its way through the Colorado Rockies and Mattie’s story is that the role of Reuben “Rooster” Cogburn may just have been the role John Wayne was born to play. Perhaps perfect casting? Could have the filmic planets aligned just so he could have put on the eye-patch in the year of nineteen-and-sixty-nine? I don’t know, but it’s a goshdarn pleasure to watch, Pilgrim. Rooster’s closing line of “Come see a fat old man sometime!” is truly heartwarming, and smile-inducing. It’s therefore not a surprise in the slightest to read that he campaigned endlessly to have this film made, and with him in the lead. Aged 62 at the time of the film’s production, he truly epitomises the rugged masculinity of the character. Moreover, there’s a kindness and an essential goodness in his performance hidden under the tough exterior, as well as a world-weariness necessary of a character like Cogburn, something often belied by the frequent humour of the script (more about that later). The Duke’s drawl, his toughness, and his cheeky grin are all pitch-perfect for inhabiting Rooster’s jacket and eye-patch.

Of course, True Grit wouldn’t be considered a “classic Western” (I got many a disapproving look when I admitted I hadn’t seen it until just now) without a cast that shines equally as bright as the Duke’s. I was somewhat surprised to see the faces of Dennis Hopper and Robert Duvall onscreen, and similarly was pleasantly surprised that Glenn Campbell proved himself to be a fine actor. However, he pales in comparison to Kim Darby, playing Mattie Ross. Defiant, headstrong, determined, she holds her own against both John Wayne and Rooster Cogburn. As her family farm’s bookkeeper, Mattie spends her time onscreen bargaining with men twice her size and age, refuses to have her view of a hanging shielded (“I’m here, I may as well see it all”, she says), refuses to be left behind by Cogburn and LeBoeuf. It would have been all to perilously easy for Mattie to have ended up as quite an annoying character (in my eyes anyway), so one really has to tip their cowboy hat to Kim Darby for injecting just the right amounts of vulnerability and feistiness to the young woman.

One of the real pleasures of True Grit is the interactions between Mattie and Rooster. After all, the film is really just as much about the relationship between the members of the mix-matched posse as it is about bringing Tom Chaney to justice. Their exchanges crackle and spark, aided to no end by a similarly cracking script by Marguerite Roberts. Not only is the dialogue mercifully written in an old-timey Western fashion (as opposed to, say, a 1960s rhythm with 1960s vocabulary), but it’s actually genuinely light and funny in parts. I suppose that was one of the genuine surprises, given how dark the trailer for the Coen version seems. There are some laugh-out-loud moments between the three leads, and also between the so-called bad guys that are being tracked. For instance, Tom Chaney tells Mattie how to make her old-fashioned gun fire before she shoots him, then complains loudly that “everything happens to me!”. One has to give credit where credit’s due, and certainly Roberts paints an intriguing picture of Tom, as well as Ned Pepper (Robert Duvall), the leader of the gang he’s riding with. Pepper doesn’t seem like a bad guy, just another man riding, trying to make a living for himself. Much like Rooster, or Mattie herself. He doesn’t quite seem bad enough at times, and it seems as though this darn shoot-out he’s found himself in with old Rooster is just a matter of the wrong place at the irritatingly wrong time. Each character, regardless of the time spent on-screen, ended up being not only interesting but also (even just a little bit) slightly redeemable. That, I think, is refreshing and admirable.

If I were to name a couple things that did irritate me about the film, it’d be Elmer Bernstein’s over-the-top score (it’s pretty ham-fisted). I suppose that’s the way Westerns were back then, but this was almost to the point of distraction. Secondly, it’d be the overly bright and vibrant scenery. Again, that’s probably just a matter of preference. I like my Westerns a little grittier, but that’s me. I read recently with some interest that the Coens instructed Jeff Bridges, who plays the role of Rooster in this year’s version of the film, to disregard John Wayne’s performance. Of course, I couldn’t imagine a Wayne impersonation cutting it for the Coens, but it does intrigue me as to how Bridges has decided to approach the role. Similarly, I look forward to a grittier LeBoeuf from Matt Damon than what Glenn Campbell (solid, but outshone by his co-stars) offered. In fact, I’m expecting — hoping — for something altogether grittier. Now, that’s not to say that Henry Hathaway’s take on the story isn’t a tremendously entertaining and interesting journey; I know for a fact that watching the first interpretation of the source novel has only served to make me  more excited about finally watching the Coens’ latest. Like I said, it’s a nigh-on pants wetting excitement, Pilgrim.

True Grit (Review)

Trailer Talk: Coen Brother’s show their True Grit

Competition: Win tickets to see TRUE GRIT!

Australian Box Office 30/01/2011: Swan glides into top spot

2010 OFCS Award Nominees: Black Swan leads the charge

McAdams plays Becky Fuller, a driven, sincere, hardworking and recently fired morning television producer. She jumps at the chance to take the role of Executive Proder of Daybreak, a perpetually last-in-the-ratings morning show, hired by Jerry Barnes (Jeff Goldblum, thankfully more rude and arrogant than quirky). The show is under-funded and under-staffed, anchored by Colleen Peck (Diane Keaton) and a weirdo obsessed with feet and old-lady porn who Becky promptly fires. She then sets out to enlist the skills of veteran newsman – and “third-worst person in the world” – Mike Pomeroy, superbly portrayed by Harrison Ford. Becky’s task is to revitalise the show, rescue it from the bottom of the ratings pile, and she jumps into it with tenacity and zeal. We know that she’s going to succeed of course, but an intricate plot isn’t where the joy of this film comes from.

With impressive comedic timing, McAdams carries the film superbly. Her character Becky is a manic screwball, but never gratingly so (take note, Katherine Heigl).  McAdams also has vital chemistry with Harrison Ford, who gives his best performance in years. Considering  his most recent output includes gems such as Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull and Firewall, that’s hardly a difficult feat. Still, he’s pitch-perfect as the grizzly newsman Mike Pomeroy, disgusted with the state of modern television and what Becky would have him do.  He doesn’t ham it up (as I’m sure other actors would have), nor does he inject an excessive amount of schmaltz during the scenes in which Mike’s tough exterior cracks.

Interestingly, despite Becky Fuller’s budding romance with fellow producer Adam (Patrick Wilson; gorgeous), the real love story in this film is between Fuller and Pomeroy. While Adam seems as if he could be quite interesting at first, his character sadly becomes relegated to the background as token love interest. The arc of Pomeroy and Fuller’s relationship is far more interesting and fully-formed. It’s a real pleasure watching the two interact, Ford’s glares and stunned double takes complementing McAdams’ more energetic flailing. Similarly, Diane Keaton also is a great match for Ford. She kisses frogs, she dances and she sumo wrestles. She’s a consummate television show-woman.

And that’s the other way in which Morning Glory succeeds; it gives us an entertaining view into the world of television, the people who work in it, and the relationships between them. The humour McKenna’s script is smart and driven by human nature — two qualities very few chick flicks of late have possessed. We may have seen it before, but we haven’t seen it this well done in a while. Morning Glory is fluffy alright, but it’s also delicious.

Midnight in Paris (Review)

Cowboys & Aliens (Review)

We Bought a Zoo (Review)

Griff the Invisible (Review)

The Ugly Truth (Review)

What do I classify as a good holiday film? Well, firstly they have to feature the holiday season. Duh. Secondly, a good dose of heartwarming cheer is probably necessary. Not quite “IT’S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!” heartwarming, but still feel-good. Thirdly – and this is all-important – they are not allowed to feature annoying small children, or copious amounts of schmaltz or cheese. So, the following films may have Christmas cheer, but they’re not going to make you spew or cringe. Call it the brain-child of someone who’s had enough of terrible viewing on TV in the days and nights leading up to the big day.

Fear not! This list features minimal small children.
Calm yourself! You won’t have to sit through vomit-worthy sentimentality. 
And I promise, no Tim Allen.

10. The Apartment (1960)

Billy Wilder’s superb, Oscar-winning romantic dramedy (I hate that word, but it’s fairly apt) is one of the first films I thought of when pondering this list. It tells the story of C.C. Baxter (Jack Lemmon) a young man working at an insurance firm, who loans out his apartment to his work superiors for their extramarital affairs. He’s unhappy with the situation, but the managers that take advantage of him write glowing praise of him so he continues. While trying to juggle the trail of suits and floozies going through his apartment though, he’s also found himself falling for the elevator girl at the office, Fran Kubelik, superbly portrayed by Shirley MacLaine. She positively glows with charm and warmth, as does Jack Lemmon. Both leads were nominated for Best Actor/Actress Oscars, and certainly it’s easy to see why. Both are unlucky in love, somewhat unhappy, yet are also fully of life and light up the screen. The Apartment tackles themes such as infidelity, depression and suicide, and could have been an incredibly downbeat film in other hands. However, with Billy Wilder at the helm, the film is heartwarming, funny, and even the scenes in which Ms Kubelik is at her most depressed and despairing, you know that everything’s going to turn out alright. Watching two people finding each other, finally, realising they’ve been perfect for each other all along, during the holiday season – in my opinion, a perfect candidate for Christmastime viewing.

9. Hebrew Hammer (2003)
Imagine a world where a Jewish superhero must battle Santa Claus’ evil son Damian in order to save Hanukkah. This is the world that  Jonathan Kesselman’s Jewish take on the blaxploitation genre places us. Adam Goldberg’s Mordechai Jefferson Carver is the Hebrew Hammer, a Certified Circumcised Dick, who has sworn to defend Jews everywhere. When Santa Claus’ evil son Damian (Andy Dick) kills old man Claus and vows to make everyone celebrate Christmas, it’s up to the Hebrew Hammer – with some help from Kwanzaa brothers, a great cameo from Mario van Peebles – to save the day. It’s un-PC, it’s irreverent, it’s pretty stupid and it’s also pretty funny. Adam Goldberg is great as Mordechai, strutting around in a get-up that’s Hasidic Jew via 70s pimp, kicking asses and wooing ladies. Andy Dick is occasionally irritating as Damian, but The Hebrew Hammer (to me at least), hits far more than it misses. If you like your Christmas film fare a little politically incorrect, here’s your winner.

8. The Shop Around the Corner (1940)
Remember that terrible Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks vehicle from the late 90s called You’ve Got Mail? Remember it briefly, then cast it from your mind. Ernst Lubitsch’s amazing film of 1940 The Shop Around the Corner is the masterpiece it’s based on. In turn, The Shop Around the Corner was based on a Hungarian play called Parfumerie but that’s totally not the point. James Stewart and Margaret Sullivan play Alfred Kralik and Klara Novak, employees at Matuscheck and Co., in Budapest. They loathe each other, constantly bickering while at work. However, unbeknownst to them, the pen pals they’re writing to and falling in love with are none other than each other. There’s really no way to overstate how lovely, darling and heartwarming this film is. For those of you unfamiliar with Ernst Lubitsch, please let this film be your introduction to him. In his hands, The Shop Around the Corner is utterly enthralling, romantic yet controlled, without ham-fisted sentimentality. The “Lubitsch Touch”, as it was called, abounds here. The leads are exceptional. This film brings an unabashed tear to my eye. Oh, and Christmas? Yeah, it’s in there. The climax to the film takes place during the holiday season. It’s perfect Christmas day watching, funny, romantic and touching.

7. The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)
This one’s obvious, no? This Henry Selick-directed (co-written and produced by Mr Burton) stop motion film is loved by countless fans, for the music, imagery, characters and genuine warmth it exudes. I too, am a fan. Despite that it’s an overly obvious choice, I’m fairly adamant The Nightmare Before Christmas deserves a place on this list. Jack Skellington is the “Pumpkin King” of Halloween Town, who accidentally opens a portal to Christmas Town. Santa is kidnapped, Sally falls for Jack, Jack goes around the world giving “presents” to children, which only terrifies them (not surprising, given the presents are severed heads and snakes), Jack sees the errors of his ways. Christmas is restored! All this going on, with terrific score and songs by Burton and his frequent collaborator Danny Elfman, and truly inspiring visuals and imagery from Selick.

6. Die Hard (1988)
What says “Christmas Eve” better than Bruce Willis rampaging through a building, single-handedly taking down criminal mastermind Hans Gruber? I don’t know. Not much. The first of the Die Hard films, John McClane’s Christmas Eve adventure sees him traveling to LA to reunite with his estranged wife. Unfortunately, plans are put out of whack when Hans Gruber and his men take control of the building. They pose as terrorist extremists, but in reality they’re after millions in bearer bonds. The office party is taken as hostages, and it’s up to John McClane to save the day. Simple. Simple, BUT AWESOME. One of the best action films of all time, with one of the best action heroes of all time, with one of the best villains of all time. On Christmas eve! Bruce Willis, in all his rugged, smartass, singlet-wearing glory, provides all the leading-man charm you’d want from a Christmas movie. And explosions! There’s romance, a happy ending, a Christmas miracle. And explosions!

5. Bad Santa (2003)
Bad Santa, like Hebrew Hammer is what you need if you like your Christmas time viewing irreverent, rude and un-PC. Directed by Terry Zwigoff (Crumb, Ghost World), co-written by the Coen Brothers, and starring Billy Bob Thornton, you’d expect as much. Thornton plays Willie, a drunken, hedonistic con-man who takes jobs as shopping mall Santa Clauses with his partner, Marcus (Tony Cox). Every year they get those jobs, then rob the stores. Easy. This year however, Willie finds himself in a relationship with Sue (Lauren Graham), a woman with a Santa fetish, being pursued by head of mall security Bernie Mac, and spending time with The Kid (Brett Kelly). Even then, the film remains demented and somewhat deranged. The Kid is almost stalker-like, attaching himself to Willie. Willie teaches The Kid how to box, and beats up some neighbourhood bullies for him. “I beat up some kids today”, he says, but that it was for a reason and that makes him feel good. Thornton is superb as Willie, the foul-mouthed, depressed barely functioning alcoholic, lead who screws mothers in the plus-size dressing rooms. The entire cast is great, all helped a great deal by a cracking, profane, inspired script. As far as a feel-good ending, I won’t reveal what happens but it certainly ain’t heartwarming in the same way Miracle On 34th Street is. See this with a beer in hand, and without a single child in the room.

4. Joyeux Noel (2005)
Joyeux Noel tells the true story of a truce between French, German and Scottish soldiers on a Christmas Eve during WWI. It’s 1914, and through the eyes of six or so soldiers, we the audience in turn witness enemies fraternising in the no-man’s land between them, after being taught to hate and kill each other. A lesson in human spirit, keeping in the Christmas-y love thy neighbour vibe? Check. Diane Kruger plays Anna Sorensen, a Danish singer who insists on traveling to the front lines to sing for troops (although the real reason is so she can see her lover, a German soldier). As she sings, French and Scottish troops start to watch, poke their heads above the trenches, then eventually lay down their arms and the fraternising begins. They sing carols, they play football, hold a mass, and are able to bury their dead. They all discover that despite their differing countries of birth, they are men that are quite alike. Unfortunately they’ve been given orders to kill each other, which makes the act of sheltering each other in opposing trenches during an artillery fire even more of a touching move. It’s quite a moving film, especially given that this actually happened (although probably not quite as dramatically staged as in the movies). Certainly not as violent and definitely more akin to a fairy tale than most modern war films, but a winning choice for Christmas watching.

3. Meet Me in St Louis (1944)
Okay. THIS is the movie that gets me every single time. Without fail. Every time. Meet Me in St Louis is a cinematic classic, for so many reasons. Directed by Vincente Minnelli, starring Judy Garland, featuring “The Trolley Song” and debuting “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”, it’s truly gorgeous, glorious viewing. The Smiths are a large family living a comfortable middle-class existence in St Louis at the turn of the century. The Worlds Fair is coming to town, it’s summer, the girls are in love. Esther (Garland) is in love with “The Boy Next Door”, although he hasn’t really noticed her yet. However, after a few adventures starring Tootie, the youngest Smith and after Esther finally gets her guy, patriarch Alonzo Smith announces the family will be moving. So ensues family despair, a gorgeous Christmas Eve ball, and Judy Garland singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” to her forlorn youngest sister. Now, that short paragraph isn’t doing Meet Me in St Louis nearly as much justice as it deserves. That’s not even mentioning the other great songs, the great cast, the fabulous characters, the wonderful scene in which Esther dances with her grandfather, at the ball which gets me EVERY SINGLE TIME and ends with me blubbering and claiming bad hayfever. It’s a sentimental favourite yes, a fabulous holiday film, but in my opinion it never descends to schmaltz and cheese, which is testament to the superb performances. Get this film in your eyes, now.

2. National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989)
There’s no overstating how much I hate the usual “zany family Christmas movie” fare being churned out of Hollywood of recent times. Seriously, without a trace of a lie, they irritate me no end. Which is why it is such a testament to National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation that it has clocked in at #2 of this list. The third of the National Lampoon vacation series, it sees Chevy Chase reprising his usual role of Clark Griswald, the ever-embattled family man. All he wants his a good, old-fashioned family Christmas. Given that this is National Lampoon however, that’s exactly what he isn’t going to get. The lights don’t turn on, the tree’s a disaster, and his insane relatives turn up, wreaking havoc. Written by John Hughes, it’s laugh-out-loud funny, a screwball family comedy that does have some of the warm Christmas sentimentality that you’d expect from that sort of film, but man, is it ever amusing. The film belongs to Randy Quaid, and of course to Chevy Chase. This is the one film that I’ll make sure to watch if it’s on TV on Christmas eve, even though I’ve seen it countless times before. Best viewed with a Dad guffawing in the background and with the Christmas tree lights on.

1. It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)
I know that this film tops most “BEST CHRISTMAS FILM” list, and it’s really a shame that so many probably now think it’s somewhat lame. To me however, It’s a Wonderful Life is a gorgeous, uplifting classic film. Yes, sometimes a little sentimental, but so what. Sue me. Jimmy Stewart is a great enough actor that I tend to forget any sappiness when I watch it. If you can believe it, Frank Capra’s Christmas classic was a flop when it was released, both commercially and critically. You might even call the fact that it’s now considered one of the best films of all time, a “Christmas Miracle!” unto itself. No, let’s not go that far. Jimmy Stewart’s George Bailey however, finds himself in the midst of a Christmas miracle however (what a segue!). It’s Christmas Eve and he’s despairing. He’s had enough, of work and family, and life in general. In fact, he’s about to commit suicide. It’s at that moment however, that Clarence, Angel Second Class comes to his aid, to show him a life in which he doesn’t exist, to earn his wings by saving George’s life. He shows George, who has spent all of his life putting the needs of others before him sees a world without him, sees what he’s leaving behind. And so he sees the error of his ways and races back home to his family, right in time for Christmas. Lovely, no? This is probably one of the finest performances of James Stewart’s career, and Frank Capra’s most well-known and loved film (at least, nowadays anyway). If there were ever a film to lose yourself in during the festive season, it’s this one. It’s exactly what you need Christmas time, ’tis the season for it.

White Christmas: The Unrealistic View for Australians

Lights, Camera, Christmas!!

A Christmas Carol 3D (Review)

Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale (Review)

WIN tickets to a preview of A CHRISTMAS CAROL 3D! (Adelaide)

It’s testament to screenwriter Nick Hornby (my eyes lit up as I saw his name in the opening credits) that Jenny isn’t completely overwhelmed by the sparkling, alien world she encounters. She holds her own in conversations of art and film, she speaks fluent French, she puts her foot down and refuses to be deflowered until her seventeenth birthday. Jenny has a quick wit, which I was certainly grateful for – I believe protagonist made of lesser stuff would have fast grown tiresome over the film’s running time. In addition to this, I applaud Carey Mulligan for a really charming performance as Jenny, bringing equal amounts of balls as wide-eyed innocence along with her adorable dimples. (How strange it was though, to see her with short hair and looking decidedly older than seventeen during the Q&A session after the screening!)

Peter Sarsgaard (a personal favourite, I won’t try to deny it) is wonderfully charming, and seems to be utterly at home in the role of an intellectual party-goer and lover of the arts. So too, is the darker side of David completely believable…not as a plot point, but as a real human flaw in someone who seemed so unflappable and too good to be true. David could have trod the line of being a villain at times (although there’s not much of that I can expand on without some major spoilers), yet Sarsgaard’s portrayal is sadder and truer than to let that eventuate. The rest of the cast too, were similarly well-cast and enjoyable to watch. Alfred Molina visibly revels in the fun of playing a character like Jack. What could have easily have been a stereotypical and cliched portrayal of a father-figure is something far funnier and touching in the hands of Hornby and Molina. So too, is the ever poised and gorgeous Olivia Williams as Miss Stubbs, Jenny’s English teacher.

As a film, An Education might take a well-worn path, but it’s one of the most enjoyable films I’ve seen at this year’s Melbourne International Film Festival. The dialogue snaps and crackles with a really intelligent wit. The characters are well fleshed-out, are interesting, are obviously well-liked by writer and director alike. The film made me want to go home and listen to a French record, made me want to sit outside a cafe and smoke, to go dancing, made me nostalgic for a time when all the things I saw onscreen were as new and exciting as they were to Jenny. Is that not the sign of a film with some merit worth noting?

Verdict:

A coming of age film that sparkles in smarts, wit, style and charm.

-This review was originally posted Aug 3, 2009.

Win tickets to see ‘An Education’!

Carey Mulligan signs on for biopic ‘Effie’

Elegy (Guest Review)

Fame (2009) (Review)

The Girlfriend Experience (Review)

For those not in the know regarding Soviet cinema, Andrei Tarkovsky can best be described through his constant and spectacular use of long, long tracking shots, of the most balletic nature, mostly devoid of dialogue. Paper Soldier however, is not directed by Tarkovsky, but rather Aleksei German. It’s often billed as the Russian Right Stuff (do yourself a favour if you haven’t checked out that particularly epic Tom Wolfe adaptation and devour it, please), but Paper Soldier is less bravado and gung-ho than balletic, thoughtful and grey. Really, where the similarities start and end is the fact that both films explore the space race between the two superpowers…and it seems fitting that both films seem to exemplify their respective schools of cinema; gung ho, epic Hollywood, and a rather more introspectively self-aware Soviet cinema. It’s certainly an unlikely way of telling the story of the Russian side of the space race – the entire period of history lends itself to all the fanfare and rousing chorus of a blockbuster. Cosmonaut training is barely touched on, in fact. Rather, the film fixates itself on the chain-smoking doctors of the mission.

It’s 1961, and Dr. Daniel Pokrovsky (Merab Ninidze, with just the right amount of broodishly dark good looks) is a doctor rather high up in the chain of those working to send a man into space safely. He’s haunted by the memory and legacy of his surgeon father, and by his increasing inner conflict regarding the human risk of the mission he’s participating in. He’s married to Nina (Chulpan Khamatova), a fellow doctor in Moscow, with whom he might want to divorce, or have a child with. He’s also involved with the young and clingy Vera, (Anastasya Sheveleva) a girl from the flats of Kazakhstan where the Cosmodome resides. They go to parties, get drunk, smoke a lot, talk amongst themselves and over each other. While that may sound lively however, one looking for a riveting character study and constant moments of life and excitement can rethink their gameplan very quickly. The three main protagonists are interesting yes, but aren’t really the main concern of the film. It’s rather difficult to connect to them until the last third of the film, and the moments of human interaction and emotion are separated by long periods of those long takes I mentioned earlier.

It does take Paper Soldier a leisurely long while for the plot and emotional depth to pick up steam, but it is worth it I assure you, for those who are as enraptured as I was with the exquisite cinematography. Truly, it is a wonder to behold. All greys and blacks of the Kazakhstan landscape, interrupted by fires, or a crying mistress, or astronauts remarkably casual before their first flight. A man rides a bike towards the death that had been looming over the entire film, giving it a sense of dread. The movements of the characters are almost balletic within the frame, moving in and out of the camera’s eye, with each shot a compositional triumph. It makes one wonder how much of the film was rehearsed and choreographed to oblivion and back. This meandering of the seemingly minimal plot (I say that because it’s a time remembered with a significant amount of pride in Russia to my knowledge) combined with the flats of Kazakhstan, the film often has a dream-like quality.

What’s my verdict? I got a giant kick out of the film, although I’m fully aware that I didn’t get half as many of the cultural references that were in the film. There’s occasional moments of a lovely kind of humour, and like I’ve just described, the cinematography certainly is an inspiration, especially for someone about to head into production as Director of Photography of a short film. This isn’t for the easily bored though, or those who need constant explanations of the actions of the characters and the trajectory of the plot. There’s certainly a lot to be had from Paper Soldier.

The Girlfriend Experience (Review)

Yes Man (Review)

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (Review)

MIFF Madness, are you ready?

The King of Ping Pong [Ping-pongkingen] (Review)