Thursday, 6th August 2009

Au cinéma!

Yesterday — the closest to unbearably hot we’ve reached since the very beginning of July — I accompanied Ed and Ricky on the most economising trip to the cinema I have ever made. Armed with Orange Wednesdays, a shared pizza and a dinner-for-£1 voucher for Ask, the entire thing cost us twenty quid. However pleased we may have felt with ourselves for this deal, we surely also congratulated ourselves on the choice of film, The Taking of Pelham 123. A remake of an adaptation of a novel of the same title, it shouldn’t have been regarded as too promising, and sure enough, critics were formerly sceptical and now, following its general release, downright scathing. However, I — and the boys — couldn’t find anything actually wrong with it, and therefore rather enjoyed it; the shockingly badly aged John Travolta was certainly commendable in his role as hijacker Ryder, and hitherto-inconnu director Tony Scott did pretty well to make it seem like an awful lot was happening, when in fact not a whole lot was. Denzel Washington’s performance was little more than mediocre, but given that his character is little more than mediocre, perhaps this is a display of Washington’s brilliance at immersing himself in his roles? In any case, I can’t see any reason for this film to have been badly received other than the haughty disdain which, let’s face it, most films will never escape. It was a pretty good thriller, and probably worth a second watch.

My trip to Finchley Vue prior to this was with Helena and Katie, to see The Proposal. My desire to see this film was threefold: I wanted to see the two aforementioned friends before they buggered off to their respective countrysides; Sandra Bullock and I go a fair long way back, Miss Congeniality being the first film that I was ever obsessed with; the pitch was an original idea. This is normally the factor which draws me to both films — such as The Matrix, Vantage Point, The Truman Show and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen — although I have been subjected (usually not of my own volition) to many brilliant pieces of cinematography which do not fit this bill (the concept of Amélie was not particularly spectacular, though it is a very beautiful film; Girl, Interrupted has been done many times before but also remains one of my favourite films).

It was largely for this reason that I was interested in The Proposal: the idea of a Canadian uptight boss forcing her American employee, terrified of her, to marry him in order to avoid being deported, apart from sounding like an awful lot of fun for the audience, is something I’ve never come across before. As is usual with such things, it wasn’t quite what I expected, but it contained much of the genuinely funny romantic comedy I have come to expect from Sandra Bullock and though it was at heart a very typical mismatched-love story, events did not unfold in a predictable manner, which I always appreciate. The one fault I could find was that Sandra Bullock, though the film Crash proves that she can do drama, also achieved in the course of The Proposal the absolute worst drowning scene I have ever seen in my entire life. (Don’t worry, she didn’t drown. But I’m pretty sure I could do a better job.)

The Proposal was preceded by Harry Potter Six, which I’m fairly shocked I haven’t dissected already. In fact, come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I have. What the hell is going on? What happened to that post? I remember writing it! WTAF! Okay I’m emailling Jordan. And looking for the post. Okay, erm…I found it. It may have been in the post I wrote two days ago. God, I really am going mad. Anyway, I may as well take this opportunity to talk a little more about the acting, as my previous review was more focused on direction.

Top marks go (in no particular order) to Tom Felton, shooting straight back to the top of the young talent league table following his total annihilation by the script writers of Order of the Phoenix; his performance as the darker yet also more human Malfoy ordered by Voldemort to kill Dumbledore or face his entire family being killed was never exaggerated, but still absolutely believable and deserving of the praise he has received for it. Next comes Jessie Cave, the nice new find of Lavender Brown, Ron’s long-suffering yet so-annoying-she’s-deserving-of-it girlfriend for the duration of Half Blood Prince; just as Potter V was entirely centered on Imelda Staunton’s acidic simpering as Umbridge, the wonderful hysterics of Lavender hold up the romantic comedy of the sixth installment, which basically means the whole film. She is perhaps slightly more ridiculous a character than her literary alter ego, but I’d say this was well-played given the heartily comedic approach to the adaptation.

And, of course, Alan Rickman, who has always been the very essence of Severus Snape, purely for two singular, polarising  moments: his classic facial expression at the end of Lavender’s climactic outburst bordering on a nervous breakdown, in front of all the teachers including the sardonic Potions master himself; and the finger he raises to his lips when he silently reaches Harry’s hiding place at the end of the book, before he swoops up the stairs and murders Dumbledore. The former was, for me at least, the single funniest thing in the entire film; the latter was impressive because Rickman managed somehow to pour so much into that one gesture, tens of emotions and silent words spoken to Harry; and the way that these two examples, comedic and dramatic, stand out proves that Rickman fully understood and demonstrated the essence of this film.Finally, though it may seem inevitable to those who know me, Helena Bonham Carter, whose Bellatrix was fantastic and yet utterly suppressed in OOTP, but burst forth triumphantly in this film, finally granted an actual scene as opposed to a line, more than one scene in fact, managing to produce (in her still relatively brief performance) moments of humour, as well as tightening the thumbcrews on the tension and terrifying the gang (and the audience) more than adequately, in the noticeable absence of good old Voldy. Indeed, Bellatrix seemed to be the only indication whatsoever that the wizarding world currently has bigger problems than the love-octagon occupying the sixth year of Hogwarts. Given the sudden return of the Darkest wizard of all time, as well as the real world’s knowledge of the imminent battle and all its perils, this is a pretty good job for one character alone, but Bonham Carter, as always, one hundred per cent delivers.

Public Enemies, seen with the boys — all of them, before they disappeared to South Africa and India — was, I must say, a disappointment. I don’t think it was a bad film, so much as a bad story. Many will have greatly enjoyed this cat-and-mouse gangster remake, including most of the people I went to see it with, but, frankly, it bored me. I went to see it because there was nothing else out, because I wanted to see the boys, because I like Johnny Depp’s work. It was not something that I would ever go to see alone. The story — the then-newly-formed FBI hunting down charming yet uncomfortably successful bank robber John Dillinger — was not something that would ever interest me. I confess, though, it was not entirely the plot to blame; there have also been moments in other Depp films where I have found myself thinking, “Well, get on with it then.” His one fault is that he makes too much of a meal of things (probably most evident in Sweeney Todd, where he’s making a meal of singing things). We proceeded from one fight scene to one sex scene to another, and it was down to Johnny Depp to keep me engaged enough to the end of the film. He failed. In fact, I was so exasperated by the end that I actually wanted the hero dead. When they finally shot him — rather a lot of times, and a complete anticlimax — I had been on the verge of standing up and screaming “JUST DO IT ALREADY!”

My first trip to the cinema — and therefore my last review — was The Hangover, with Ed and Daniel. This was walking the very wobbly tightrope of Genuine Comedy and Disgusting Comedy, the likes of which always seem to contain the same gaggle of young, largely…well, large actors who make exactly the same crude jokes and participate in exactly the same cringeworthy scenes of physical comedy, whether that be poo, sex or…maybe there isn’t a third one. It was saved, however, by the pleasantly surprising reticence of the script, and at risk of sounding like an eighty year old headmistress, for a film which was about five guys getting so pissed at a bachelor party, in Las Vegas,that they have no idea where they went or what they did, it was all rather tastefully done. Of course, this would be worth nothing if The Hangover hadn’t also managed to be pretty damn funny. The guys wake up in their hotel suite, having lost a tooth, their memories and the bridegroom, and having gained a baby in the closet, a chicken in the living room and a tiger in the bathroom. Panic, or more accurately the typical guy’s shrug of head-scratching perplexity, ensues. I laughed out loud pretty frequently — both at the lewder of the comedy and the more restrained jokes — and would most certainly recommend it.

I also saw Angels and Demons during Study Leave, but it would take me another five hours to give it the thorough trashing it thoroughly deserves, and I’m getting hungry. Another time, perhaps. Or perhaps I’ve already reviewed it…