Short Reviews Part 1 – OR – The Easy Way Out…Part 1

It’s been over a month since I last plagued the Internet with opinions no one gives fat-arsed cat about. Its been hard for you - no doubt about that - so sit back, relax and bathe in the delicious textified glow of my sultry voice as it soothes you to a luxurious sleep. Or stupor.

Poorly formed blog of a bored pre-freshers student presents: a series of quick movie reviews.

He's more English than England. In a teacup. Tutting.

Many a film have passed through the external stimuli of my being these last few weeks – some old, some new, some good, some the stench of rancid arse gravy – but they’ve all been absorbed and judged by the old grey matter, clattered about like a dog in a washing machine, before eventually being spewed back out in the form of that most illusive beast: opinion. This thing here marks the start of a new series of blogs (maybe) created purely to plug long gaps where I have nothing else to write about. Long live the Internet.

Pretty Woman (1990)
- OR - Bitch-Slapping the Feminists.

A certified telegram from the 90s; a love-letter to the sort of times where casual sexism and out-and-out blatant stereotypes were the candy necklaces to the common gut. Richard Gere is as straight edged and expressive as the average desk while Julia Roberts injects a bit of fun into a role that would these days no doubt have feminists tearing their collective left breast off in indignation. The plot is rom-com - as daring as folding a piece of paper in the dark - but all in all structures a film that offers light-hearted fun that harms no one.
3/5

Notting Hill (1999)

- OR – Hairdy Hair Hair Hair

Otherwise known as: The Hugh Grant Singularity. As with Pretty Woman, it is a film that pushes as many boundaries as your average ‘Knock-Knock’ joke; like a good carpenter it has strong foundations which do nothing freaky like turn upside down or spontaneously combust. For every way in which Grant is the foppy haired dandy he transforms into at night, the film is kept interesting and paunchy by a stellar supporting cast; Rhys Ifans, while doing nothing to help the image of Welsh people in the media, is moronically hilarious.
3/5

Memento (2000)

- OR – Passionate Brain Sex.

Christopher Nolan enjoys making sweet passionate love to your cranium; he is clearly affectionate and thinking of your pleasure, but the whole time you are vaguely aware of how strange it is to have a penis in your brain. That’s Memento, Christopher Nolan’s figurative penis in your brain. The film is clearly smartly conceived – and not in the holier-than-thou way, more like ‘Gather round the fire children while I spin you a yarn’ – with the whole cast doing an effective job of keeping the film accessible and engaging in spite of the aforementioned brain love. Despite punching itself repeatedly in the face through a waterfall of plot-holes and inconsistencies – an inherent side-affect – the film is immensely enjoyable and keeps you guessing until the very last moment. Also, it is played backwards. Nifty.

4/5

Coraline (2009)

- OR – It is a good children’s film. NUFF’ SAID.

Children’s films are dying an awful, drawn-out, diseased and painful death. Apparently, all children want are poorly animated squeaky beasties barking out contrived one-liners while being taught that GOOD IS GOOD AND BAD IS BAD. Thankfully, Coraline waves this plague a big middle finger and makes an effort to actually be, y’know, good. Much like Nightmare Before Christmas, this is a film as delightfully creepy as it is charming, full of colourful well-developed characters – none of which feel wasted – exciting set-pieces and a tightly woven, well-paced narrative that never feels like its wallowing. All in all an incredible experience so stuffed with charm that it is guaranteed to leave you with a smile on your face and one question in your head: why aren’t more films like this?

5/5

Monsters (2010)

- OR – Big Tentacle Metaphors.

Made by a guy on his laptop for the sort of money congealed in James Cameron’s average turd, Monsters is a small revelation. Following an infestation of alien squid beasts from Hollywood’s old friend the Misunderstood Planet, a quintessential ‘guy n’ girl’ couple must traverse through a quarantined zone of Mexico back to America before the creatures start killing and shagging everything – even aliens have periods ladies and gents! As with any film centred on a couple the performances have to be strong and the leading pair here certainly fulfil their duty. With competence and an easy charm they lead both the relatively simple narrative and the audience on a journey that, while breaking no boundaries either in terms of romance or science fiction, is entertaining and engaging from start to finish.

3/5

Make sure to tune in next time for a series of reviews that are as out-of-date as they are pointless. Much love.

God bless Britain:

As a final note, please follow me on Twitter: @smariman. You'll get told of updates and new posts as soon as they happen as well as the odd desperate attempt at being funny, entertaining and likeable. Such is life.

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Super 8 Review - OR - GO GET ME A GODDAMN ALIEN!

Plot

In the summer of 1979, Jo Lamb (Joel Courtney) and his friends witness an almighty train crash while making a super 8 movie for a contest. When people start to go missing amid increasingly strange occurrences throughout the town, they soon suspect that there was much more to that train than originally met the eye. 

Just out of shot: a dribbling Hell beast.

Review

Every summer, Hollywood does its big-money best to convince us peons that the world is ending, doomed to a vicious death under the wrathful attack of aliens, or robots, or fire, or nature, or anything they bloody well feel like blowing up in our collective slack-jawed faces because WE LIKE TO WATCH THIS. So much so that even the most innocent narrative varieties have now been doused in CGI wartastic explodeyness. Fancy an old-school coming-of-age teenage nostalgia trip? Well un-bloody-lucky, because what’s a film these days without a great big bitey beastie from planet angry in the misunderstood galaxy. Incongruous you say? Nonsense! Now sit back, stop thinking, and look at how bright and shiny everything is.

Excuse the ramblomatic opening there because, all in all, Super 8 is a good film. It is also a bitterly frustrating film, demonstrating a deft understanding of one of cinema’s long-forgotten tropes in one hand – that of the coming-of-age title epitomised by Spielberg’s 1980s dominion – while then shooting itself in the foot with the ‘Modern Cinema’ gun with the other. That this was originally conceived as two separate films is as surprising as night following day.

So lets talk about Spielberg. Super 8 is, a clearly heartfelt, homage to all that Spielberg did for cinema during the 70s and 80s, his influence practically oozing out of its every pore. Thinking back and the likes of E.T. and Close Encounters of the Third Kind ring strong indeed, with families and friends dealing with very real issues on the backdrop of something decidedly a bit ‘bigger’, namely aliens. In many ways Super 8 is a quintessential summer family film; a coming-of-age tale punctuated by teenage kicks, family drama, eyegasm set-pieces and the odd metal-hoarding, train-wrecking, Rubik cube champion creature from another world. Despite the bountiful amount of money that has clearly been thrown at it however, the real charm and appeal of the film lies in its titanium strong ties to other classic yarns such as Stand By Me and its primary focus on a group of rag-tag kids, much like the Spielberg films of yore.

The kids, it has to be said, are outstanding, their infectious rapport providing the heart and soul - the proverbial sun in the solar system - of the film around which everything else revolves. Together they form a delightfully eclectic bunch – arranged like an orchestra: cute-and-heroey, tall-and-scaredy, fat-and-bossy, smart-and-geeky, small-and-pyromaniac…y - hearkening back to a more light-hearted era where the Goonies could run around like caffeine fuelled chimps without a care in the world. Special mention must be paid to Elle Fanning’s Alice – the love interest drafted in to help the boys and their film production – who’s performance is as transfixing for the boys and their film-within-a-film as it is for us as the audience watching the whole picture.

It says a lot really that, as the film turns its emphasis away from the kids to the naughty rampaging sort-of baddy, it takes a very definite decline. That’s not to say that the alien, action and explosions are poor, far from it. In any other run-of-the-mill sci-fi summer fest they’d be perfectly…fine. And its there that the problem lays. Its all just too ordinary, generic even: creature crash-lands, gets captured, experimented on, escapes and then wants to go home. Its been done a thousand times before and it’ll all be done again, which is fine – an awful word that – but in comparison to the sheer charm and entertainment found in the first half coming-of-age tale its just so massively disappointing that it mars the whole experience.

The pacing is well managed up until the final third. The disparate narrative strands, which could have easily fallen apart under less able hands, weave together nicely, combining Jo’s grief over the loss of his mother – and its ramifications for both his and Alice’s family - with the framing device of the film production all the while steadily establishing the town-wide extraterrestrial mystery. Then the tanks role in and scowly men scowl while they blow up houses for no good reason and the whole thing begins to stink of ‘blockbuster’. It’s nothing short of irritating. The relationship between Jo and Alice, wonderfully composed on the backdrop of mutual grief and hardship epitomised by the difficulties of their respective fathers, suddenly ceases to exist, as though the alien suddenly pops up with nothing more than a casual ‘Hi guys, its my turn now’.

In case you can’t tell, the alien is disappointing. It doesn’t even have the good grace to pull a Cloverfield: despite being the veritable Mr. MacGuffin for 90% of the film you end up seeing so much of the thing you could draw its freakish crab face in your sleep. His unveiling ends the tantalising drip-feed of fleeting flashes in petroleum puddles, or rear-view mirrors – which works well, complimenting the film as a whole - and sounds the drum for the descension into typical sci-fi explodeyness. Not to mention calling the drastic cull of the emphasis on the children, instead throwing the whole production into a jarringly sudden warzone. It is also very difficult to feel anything for the alien outside of derision – E.T. this ain’t. Yeah we know you’re away from home, sad and misunderstood, but the whole ‘poor beasty trapped and scared’ dynamic is made almost impossible to follow when the thing spends the entire film munching the faces of innocent human folk.

But hey, at least the film knows how you go about blowing up a train. What is quite possibly the most exaggerated, comically over-the-top explosive set-piece of the summer makes those unruly Transformers lot look like a sports match between Team Snail and Team Sloth; as much action as a morgue.

Verdict

Super 8 is, for all intents and purposes, two different films – one a charming, engrossing coming-of-age adventure, the other yet another piece of manufactured summer Hollywoodness; not exactly bad, just ordinary, the very definition of that wonderfully bland term: ‘fine’. It’s a good package overall, but the frustrating turn of pace makes you wish the alien had, at the very least, the good grace to stay hidden in the bushes.

3/5

Watch the trailer to find out everything the film isn't about:

As a final note, please follow me on Twitter: @smariman. You'll get told of updates and new posts as soon as they happen as well as the odd desperate attempt at being funny, entertaining and likeable. Such is life.

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Arrietty Review - OR - Little People Vs. Captain America

Plot

Arrietty is a borrower, a mini-person living within the finer details of the human world. With her parents, she works to live a comfortable life through borrowing from their human neighbours. Upon the arrival of curious new human boy Sho, Arrietty must learn what it means to grow up and stay safe in the wake of mounting hardships and danger.

Look at it! Look at how pretty is! My eyes ache.

Review

Studio Ghibli are, these days, held in a very awkward place; a frequent critical darling, they are heralded in the same pantheon as Pixar and yet, unfortunately, struggle to return the statistics of their more mainstream competitors. Arrietty is the studio’s newest offering and is, to date, their best shot at becoming the complete package outside of their native Japan.

A re-telling of Mary Norton’s classic tale The Borrowers, Arrietty drips in the beauty and charm so splendidly typical of Ghibli’s projects. The film offers an enticing glimpse into a stunningly realised, wonderfully inviting, parallel world; simultaneously comfortably similar and also excitingly alien, with even the most innocuous items, such as the humble sugar-cube, given a whole new lease of life. In a glorious unveiling sequence the titular heroine gasps in awe as her father abseils down a kitchen cabinet, veritably scaling Everest itself. The whole world is presented from a new perspective that, while minute in essence, has all the scent of discovery and scale of adventure offered by even the biggest of the action blockbusters. At the end of the film, you will be left either wanting to be Borrower or looking for your very own at home.

As a continuation of Ghibli’s personal creed, Arrietty is a children’s film not solely for children. Whereas too much of children’s entertainment in recent years has been focused on flogging the importance of morals, on the significance of right and wrong and ultimately serving up a glowing plate of sunshiny happiness, Arrietty instead follows a surprising path of emotional realism in spite of its fantasy roots and presentation. The whole film is an exercise in subtlety, weaving the relatively simple narrative around the two main protagonists as they deal with imperfections and hardships in their respective lives. It is around this core of realism that the beauty and charm of the film rotates; Sho explaining his dire circumstances amidst a glorious pasture, Arrietty coming to terms with the dangers of the world on the backdrop of a flowing river, the sheer breathtaking beauty of it all expertly juxtaposed against the difficulties of growing up.

For all the things Arrietty is, there is one key thing it is not: a classic. With neither the narrative complexity or pomp of Princess Mononoke nor the sheer wondrous charm of Spirited Away, it is unlikely to join the echelons of Ghibli’s greats. Further to its detriment is the so-so acting, that this is Tom Holland’s (Sho) first role is unsurprising. Similarly, the writing is irritatingly typical of a children’s film, no more risqué than an extra slice of bacon at breakfast, and competes with the understated subtlety of the film as a whole. While the enticingly foreign figure of Spiller hints at a Borrower’s worlds much bigger and diverse than what is shown, the cast’s insistence on speaking their minds in the most simplistic terms is nothing short of disappointing.

In much the same way as its predecessor Tales From Earthsea, Arrietty is intrinsically weakened through being an adaption. While not recreating the original story word-for-word the film is still stuck in a rut, restricted through the fact that it must abide by the source material. Often there is a hunger for some of the classic Ghibli imagination and character kookiness that cannot be filled. Yet, this may stand to be a positive thing, being based on a property already well known in the Western world, Arrietty is set to stand the best chance at handsome returns outside of Japan.

Verdict

Arrietty is a wonderfully composed poem about the complexities of growing up while making sense of and finding your place in the world. While the rest of the summer schedule competes to be the biggest rock ‘em sock ’em 3D action fest, Arrietty offers a chilled, charming and rewarding alternative.

4/5

Have a gander at the trailer and gasp:

As a final note, please follow me on Twitter: @smariman. You'll get told of updates and new posts as soon as they happen as well as the odd desperate attempt at being funny, entertaining and likeable. Such is life.

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Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 Review - OR - At the end of the day: Because Magic

Plot

Harry and his maties, still in mourning after the death of loveable fodder Dobby, continue their quest to destroy Voldemort and his ever increasing army and influence. As the Potter prophecy comes ever closer to fruition banks are raided, castles are sieged, friends are lost and the final battle will be waged.

A dimensional rift can make even the hardiest foes fall in love.

Review

To call me a cynic going into Deathly Hallows: Part 2 would be a massive understatement, like saying those terrorist folk are a little bit bad sometimes. The previous seven films were the perennial definition of the mundane for me, doing what they did well enough but not doing anything particularly special. I found them boring and self indulgent, like the producers had literally painted dollar symbols on the scenery because they could. While critics worldwide were screaming in ecstasy out of sheer juvenile excitement I found the whole carnival a bit ‘meh’. Not this time.

You should all know the story by now unless you’re particularly anarchic or Amish: following the events of Part 1, Harry and his merry men have to hunt down random junk keeping Voldemort alive – because magic – before eventually ridding the world – Britain* - of all evil but only Harry can do it. Because of a prophecy. Because magic. Its all delightfully ‘fantasy’ and presented the filmmakers with their first problem: ‘how in the name of Elphias Doge are we going to fit all of this into 1 film?’. The answer, as we have seen, was to put it into two. Two two-and-half-hour epic barnstorming adventures. Oh, no wait, that’s only true for the second.

The first thing that has to be said is that Part 2 is the Potter film we were all promised by Part 1: whereas Part 1 is literally drowning in forced angst and a ‘they’re-good-friends-but-can-they-stay-friends’ dynamic Part 2 blows stuff up in your face, whereas in Part 1 an old lady attacks Harry in Part 2 a werewolf munches a girl’s neck while giants kick feeble humans around like ragdolls, whereas in Part 1 we see practically every sweeping lake in England in Part 2 we see a dragon rip the proverbial out of Goblins while escaping out of a bank in an orgy of flame and glass. In your face. This is Potter on a scale never seen before, all balls-out action and sparkly sparkles sparkling everywhere like a fairy labour strike. It’s intense and exciting, bricks and bodies flying as Hogwarts crumbles around you, the whole thing erupting in a symphony of flame and explosions. Simply put, it’s as far displaced from the melancholic terminal sluggishness of its predecessor as it possibly can be. And we can all be thankful for that.

As well as being far and away the most action packed of the series – helped by the fact that I can’t think of much else that has ever happened in the previous films outside of Harry’s whining; “My parent’s are dead!”, we know….we know – its also one of the most dramatic and concise, almost ironically character driven in spite of how the film has been advertised. Having the shortest running time of the series is a clear benefit; director David Yates keeps the films flowing smoothly, deftly dealing with all remaining narrative strands giving the film a sense of completeness up to know bereft in the series. Whereas previous films have floundered under the weight of sub-plots and waffle, here the whole thing feels right and is a testament to Yates’ work.

It also has to be said how much higher the level of acting talent is here. One of the major let-downs of the previous film was its single focus on the holy trinity – Harry, Ron and Hermione – who, bless their cotton socks, still aren’t the greatest of acting talents. Part 2, however, pleasingly welcomes back all of the thespian flair so sorely missed previously – John Hurt as Olivander, Jason Isaacs as a broken Lucius Malfoy, Maggie Smith as an arse-kicking, flame-wielding, army leading, ultimate badass Professor McGonagal as well as many others. Particular attention must be paid to Alan Rickman’s Severus Snape whose flashback-come-character-revelation scene is the strongest in the film in spite of all the actiony action. If you’re the type prone to a good cry it’ll be here that the tears flow with Rickman delivering a perfectly nuanced performance that is surely deserving of some best supporting actor nods.

It is a massive shame then that this one of the rare occasions where it is the book that drops the ball rather than its bigger brighter brother, with the major faults of the film being born from the intrinsic failings of the book. In an easy sum up of this, there was a distinct universal sigh throughout the screening upon THAT epilogue. Not to mention the earlier supposed plot-twist in which the film punches itself in the face through travelling to some bizarre glowing netherworld train station. Because magic. Those who have read the book will know what this means and the whole thing is just eternally more disappointing on screen; the film is perfectly positioned for the poignancy of the moment and one can’t help but think that if the production team had had the guts to follow through on the controversial decision, then the whole thing would have been a more gratifying experience. Yeah the kids might have been sad, but in terms of narrative satisfaction it would have been light years ahead of the glossed sun-shiny ending on offer.

The film is also not afraid of the cheese, dolloping on thick layers with the tact of an eager clown. You’ll be getting rousing speeches, REALLY FREAKIN’ AWESOME ONE-LINERS and dramatic montages in which everyone bands together for one final battle. Until the next one. Like the rest of the films Part 2 is also teeming with plot holes like how can Voldemort, the silly snaky beastie, not know where his soul is? Or why don’t they just use the time-turner thing from Prisoner of Azkaban and kill the overlord of all-evil when he’s a dribbling baby? Or why does everything occur in Britain with the rest of the world seemingly not bothered by the impending apocalypse of doom? Or why don’t they just SHOOT HIM? But at the end of the day, as with every other film in the series, they can all be explained away with a very simple creed: because magic.

Verdict

Far and away the superlative offering from the Potter film series. It may have some shortcomings but they’re easy to overlook in what is a well crafted film, finally offering a satisfying mix of balls-out action and character driven drama, all of which comes together to provide a fitting conclusion to this behemoth of series. Besides the epilogue.

4/5

Nibble on the sparkles in the trailer:

As a final note, please follow me on Twitter: @smariman. You'll get told of updates and new posts as soon as they happen as well as the odd desperate attempt at being funny, entertaining and likeable. Such is life.

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An Introduction - OR - Screaming in the face of hypocrisy.

You think the summer is fun? This is summer!

The thing with this long God-forsaken expanse of soul-sucking emptiness that some call a ‘summer’ – not in Britain! – is that for the most part it is soul-sucking and empty. Most of the time I sit around on my withered, wrinkly, Welsh arse trying to think of more colourful ways of describing said arse before I get bored and fall asleep bellowing the age old cry that’s quickly shaping a generation – ‘Screw it.’ The difficulty is that not many words alliterate very well with ‘w’ – even ‘wrinkly’ actually starts with an ‘r’ sound, making it both semantically and biologically incorrect for those platitudinous folk who like needlessly long words – and when I started resorting to bogus terms like ‘wizard’ or ‘whipideedooda’ the whole ‘screw it’ thing seemed infinitely more enticing. Not that that’s saying much though, like choosing to get shot in the arm rather than in the leg; they're both rather unpleasant but will at the very least cure your boredom. I could make some ridiculous nonsensical stream like ‘wacky, waving, wizardy, wiggling, wagging, wife-beating, whipple-bat’ but I’m much more likely to be filled with shame rather than pride and would rather sleep where I at least have the chance of dreaming about sex. Or flying. Or anything besides the void of my bedroom.

I realize I’m not actually saying anything here and could easily bore the proverbial hind-legs off the proverbial donkey. Pro-verb-ial. Yet another needlessly long word used by people to confuse other people into thinking that person number 1 has some degree of intelligence. I would patent the technique if there wasn’t the guarantee that some menopausal half-human somewhere will get upset by it, calling it ‘discriminatory’ or ‘insulting’ or whatever other buzz word the media are bouncing about these days. The horrible, bitter, bitter, horrible truth of it all is that you can’t say anything without upsetting some idiot somewhere. Want to insult a banana? Hold on just one minute you rapscallion you; don’t want to upset those who like bananas now do you? Or someone else who has some strange psycho-sexual relationship with one and won’t stop crying should someone point out to them ITS A FRUIT. ‘Hold on a minute!’ I hear some of the more analy-retentive among you, ‘A banana IS NOT a fruit you silly person you’ which is partially true because its also a herb. But anything that tries to be two things at once should have the good grace to pick one or not exist at all. If I walk into a room with feathers rammed forcibly into my poor excuses for arms and cry “I’m a bird!” I’m more likely to be arrested than become a popular exotic export. Now I’m not saying that I’ve visited many jails but I’m pretty certain they aren’t full of slowly decomposing fruit/herb hybrid freaks piled in the corner. Vegetables yes, but that depends more on how aggressive the wardens are. I realize the comparison here is completely arbitrary and has no actual standing as an argument, but as the immortal Mr. Eminem once said I just don’t give a...fig.

I made a vow to myself to never create a blog on the grounds that 99.9% of them are so mercilessly mundane that it’s like the universe has actually broken in two, absorbing you into an infinite void comprised purely of gray carpet overlaid by the ‘Sky Remote Demonstration’ played on repeat, growing steadily louder after each play-through until it hits a frequency beyond your feeble human ears and you're left floating through a silent grey emptiness for the rest of eternity. Now that, my friends, is a sentence. But I’ve gone and made one anyway, which brings me back to the opening of this post, which I hope you’ve noticed placed you in that wonderfully vague – and equally pointless – place called ‘in media res’. You see, as I was trying to think of creative and amazing ways of describing my arse it dawned on me how splendidly empty my life is now with no job or any real prospects. So I decided to make a blog about it because if the internet has taught me anything its that if you ever have a problem then the whole bloody world wants to hear about it. Or not.

Because funny:

As a final note, please follow me on Twitter: @smariman. You'll get told of updates and new posts as soon as they happen as well as the odd desperate attempt at being funny, entertaining and likeable. Such is life.

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