Breaking Dawn

The Twilight Saga; Breaking Dawn, Part One (12A), 117 minutes, 2011
 
My 12 year-old daughter was bristling with excitement. "Don't spoil it", she admonished, just a little too loudly as we walked into watch Breaking Dawn One, “It isn't aimed at you". 

The penultimate instalment of the Twilight Saga, based on the best-selling books by Stephanie Meyers, (116 million copies in 50 countries) would, I agree, not normally attract me. Vampires and werewolves for the baby-boomer generation revive unwanted memories of second rate films; poor scripts, worse acting, Christopher Lee with false teeth. Today's generation, more impatient and more demanding would simply not tolerate what we unquestioningly sat through.
 
Despite no synopsis of the previous films, it’s not hard to fathom the storyline so far. Bella (Kristen Stewart), a human, loves Edward (Robert Pattinson) a vampire, but to consummate their relationship Bella must die. Thrown into the mix is a werewolf called Jacob – whom Bella still lusts after – his clan, the Quileute, and Edward’s family, the Cullens. After three movies of flirting and unimaginable self-control, our couple are united on a beach in Brazil. But Bella falls pregnant, their happiness short-lived.

The baby develops at impossible speeds, sucking the lifeblood of Bella herself.
The childbirth itself is gory and shocking and entirely inappropriate for a rating of 12A. It's less what you see and more what you hear, the tearing the squelching, the screaming, the sobs. That this passed the censor truly beggars belief.
 
Their romance itself is charming and innocent, Bella loving her vampire with, literally, all of her soul. Stewart and Pattinson reverse traditional roles; she flirtatious and forward, he respectful and patient, qualities of which her father Charlie Swan (Billy Burke) approves. "I know how to hunt people.. and use knives".. he tells his new son-in-law, adding a rare but welcome moment of light-hearted relief. Stewart herself is touching and sweet, gentle with Edward but sure of her love. While her mastery of the role is impressive to watch - she has vulnerable heroine down to a tee – the jury is out on how much more she can do. The dilemma for Pattinson is no less demanding –what else and where else is the question from here. Breaking Dawn Part Two sees Armageddon of the vampires, a death and death struggle as the Volturi seek revenge. My daughter can’t wait. 7/10.

Richard Smith-Morgan
December 2012

Blues Band

The Blues Band
Blackheath Halls December 18 2011

Their first album cratered selling but a handful of copies, the band even reduced into producing themselves. 32 years on and some 20 albums later, the Blues Band - Paul Jones (vocals / harmonica), Tom McGuinness (lead guitarist), Gary Fletcher (bass), Dave Kelly (slide guitarist) and drummer, Rob Townsend - are surely now regarded as one of Britain’s best-loved bands.

Their music – an eclectically odd combination of country, jazz and blues – has to be seen in a world of its own; “The music industry doesn’t bother us and we don’t bother them”, their oft-quoted theme. But if the genre is in question then their ability is not, all capable musicians with distinguished careers.

Jones is best known, actor, broadcaster and lead vocalist with 60s group Manfred Mann. He still seeks the limelight and stands centre stage but his timing is excellent and his vocals still strong. His rendition of his own song, “Suddenly I Like It”, was excellent, lyrical and tender, notwithstanding failed efforts to get the audience to join in. His manipulation of the harmonica – no tinny toy in his hands – was quite spectacular from the purity of his tone to the breadth of his range. But Blues Band the group is much more than just Jones, each of the band members (unusually) taking turns at the mic; McGuinness’s (also Manfred Mann) gentle tones, Kelly’s forceful energy and Fletcher’s rhythmic pitch. But if their vocals are strong their playing is better, the key reason they have lasted so long. Townsend’s rhythm at the back of the stage, Kelly’s facility on the bottleneck guitar, Fletcher’s flexibility with finger and thumb.

After a banal introduction and some inane repartee (somebody should really tell them), things finally got going with a crowd-pleasing mixture of classic old favourites – What you Wanted and Going Home – and more recent material - Living with the Blues and You are True - from their new album, A Few Short Lines. But at the end of each song, repartee – largely consisting of interminable requests to purchase the new album – reappeared, destroying what momentum the group had managed to build, an inexcusable mistake for an experienced group.

However, most of their loyal audience simply enjoyed what they heard, cheering and shouting before the end of each song, Blind Alfred Reed’s “How Can a Poor Man Stand Such Times and Live”, the highlight of the night.

An evening for fans. 6/10. Oh, and a Happy New Year!



Dick Morgan
December 2011

One Man Two Guvnors, Adelphi Theatre

One Man, Two Guvnors, Adelphi Theatre, The Strand
Christmas Eve, 2011

Do whatever it takes - beg, steal or borrow a ticket - but do not miss this play! Oh and do it quickly since this marvellous show moves to Broadway in April next year. It's a cornucopia of farce from beginning to end, witty and clever but also visually rich. There’s even a sharp-suited band interspersed between scenes.

Adapted and updated - to 1963 Brighton – by Richard Bean from the 1746 Commedia dell'arte classic, One Servant and Two Masters, by Carlo Goldoni, it stars James (Gavin and Stacey) Corden as the hapless go-between. The plot defies logic as is customary with farce, Corden caught between Rachel (Jemima Rooper) the disguised sister of her dead gangster brother and Stanley Stubbers (Oliver Chris), the “accidental” – he was stabbed three times – offender who just happens to be – you guessed it – the love of Rachel’s life. Corden is tossed about like a ship in a storm – “there's only so much tossing one man can take” he laments smirking, serving his two masters dinner simultaneously in the play’s iconic scene.

Bean and his Director, Nicholas Hytner, take their courage in their hands introducing an octogenarian waiter to this well-worn comic masterpiece. Thankfully it works, magnificently, Tom Edden’s bumbling, stumbling, trembling Alfie, surely in line for supporting actor of the year, his ability to fall vertically downstairs in the very best traditions of traditional, British farce.

Cordon is outstanding from his energy on the stage - his fight with himself one of the highlights of the play - "you wouldn't dare" he says to himself faced with a metal dustbin lid – to his interaction with the audience, a poor unsuspecting lady the unfortunate victim of both his charisma and his gags. Not only is Corden funny but he is sharp-witted and quick. When offered a humus sandwich by a man in the front row he shot back; “no wonder you’ve not eaten it” with barely a pause. But the power of the play is in the depth of the cast; Chris’s parody of a public schoolboy as funny as Corden himself; “Christian names are for girls and Norwegians” he says in all seriousness, Daniel Rigby’s wannabe actor, a thesaurus of stock theatrical phrases.

While the second half fails, not unreasonably, to hit the heights of the first, there is still much to enjoy. Broadway is surely in for a treat.

Consistently very funny and hilarious at times. 9/10. Happy New Year everyone! That’s it for 2011.

DM
December 2011

The Ides of March

The Ides of March (15) -100 minutes -2011

"Beware The Ides of March", warned the prophet. Caesar refused to take notice and it cost him his life, stabbed 23 times, in the back. George Clooney's Ides of March, his fourth film as director, is as dramatic, if less bloody and with the US Presidential race now upon us, rather more timely. With echoes of both Robert Redford's, The Candidate (1972) and Mike Nichols' Primary Colours (1998), IoM tells the story of corruption and compromise, of idealism betrayed and of innocence turned to dust.

Governor Mike Morris (Clooney) is on his way to the White House and lighting his way are his political aides, cynic, Paul Zara (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and idealist, Stephen Meyers (Ryan Gosling). As the two of them structure a flawless campaign, Zara's opposite number, Tom Duffy (Paul Giamatti), has ideas of his own. He ruthlessly sets out to destroy their campaign; “it isn’t personal” he tells a bewildered Meyers. However neither Chief of Staff planned on the nemesis of Presidents, the sensuous intern played by Evan Rachel Wood.

Clooney has assembled a very strong cast, watchable, competent and comfortable in their roles. Giamatti for example, is in the form of his life. From The Last Station (2009) and Barney's Version (2010) to Win Win (2010) and Too Big To Fail (2012) , this diminutive but touching actor is in almost constant demand. PSH, similarly omnipresent, is his usual, professional self, here, careworn, world weary and tired of doing battle. Also compelling is Rachel Evan Wood in a short but moving cameo as Molly Stearns and, despite some (false) modesty - "You simply don't have an option when George (Clooney) calls" - never out of her depth. Gosling himself is the star of the show. Flush with success from Nick Refn's thriller, Drive, the 31 year old Canadian, is on top of his game. Compelling and persuasive, particularly his scenes with Evan Wood, he seems suited to his role, his boyish good looks somehow symbolising his beliefs.

Despite his own, well-publicised political leanings, Clooney depoliticises the film, his sanitised thriller neither republican nor democrat. This is a film about the politics of greed and the uncontrollable need to rise to the top. Its acting is good, its dialogue is slick (though less sleek than West Wing), and its storyline neat, especially the twists.
Well-structured and intelligent and like Clooney’s own career, good but not great. 8.5/10.

DM
November 2011

A Christmas Carol Greenwich Playhouse

A Christmas Carol
Greenwich Playhouse December 6 2011 - January 15, 2012

Bah humbug, I was tempted to shout out early on. I don't want singing and dancing and actors running about. I want the old Dickens, the wordsmith, the craftsman of his age. Changing a masterpiece, to what end and why? Yet despite my best efforts I was slowly drawn in, enthused by the spirit of an infectious cast.

The story at least follows traditional lines with a miserable Scrooge (Stephen Barden) first seen hoarding his wealth. Then everything changes and he begins to repent, overwhelmed by ghoulish spirits who unfurl his dark life. Less traditional perhaps are the spirits themselves, their messages stark, their characters dark.

Christmas Past (Jess Mack) appears heaven-sent, clad entirely in white, her beauty and smile convincing Scrooge all is well. But as the veil on his childhood is gradually raised, her incessant cackling reveals a darker soul. Her message delivered, she ebbs violently away. Christmas Present (Tara Godolphin) is less subtle, her vulgarity unpleasant, her message no less cruel. “Oh Scroogy Woogy “, she addresses the by now babbling old miser, “come, let me show you what your life has become”. But Christmas Future (Barden again) is the darkest, its black hooded cloak reminiscent of the Reaper. Before it finally departs, Scrooge is at his wits end.
Less traditional still was the continuous music, the Yamaha keyboard too tinny and hollow. The carols were better, the harmonies strong, their timing allowing rearrangements of the set. The casting - 7 women and 4 men – was adventurous given restrictions of space but only rarely did the stage seem cluttered and (too) full.

While Scrooge usually dominates, here he does not, largely a function of the cast’s multiple roles. While Barden is competent, others catch the eye. Lee White as Bob Cratchett, unctuous but amusing, Charlotte Mason-Apps as Mrs Dilber and (Belle), elegantly comfortable in both of her roles and Christopher Rowland (Fezziwig and Fred) who promises much in this his first season in professional roles.

Bringing Dickens to life in a world without patience is an ambitious and difficult undertaking. But Sell A Door Directors, David Hutchinson and Phillip Rowntree are clearly more than up to the challenge. The theatre was full, the audience engaged and no more could be asked of the cast. While traditionalists (like me) may grumble and gripe, we should recognise what is good Christmas fare.

The play is amusing and enthusiastically portrayed and a Merry Christmas to one and all! 8/10

My Week With Marilyn (15) 2011 (101 minutes)

She won a BAFTA for "The Prince and The Showgirl" (1957) and a Golden Globe for "Some Like It Hot" (1959). Barely three years later, the 36 year-old Marilyn Monroe was found dead in her home. Suicide or murder, we shall never be sure. In “My Week with Marilyn”, his directorial debut, Simon Curtis opens (yet another) window on this troubled and tortured soul.

Told through the eyes of not Marilyn but film hand, Colin Clark (Eddie, “The Other Boleyn Girl” Redmayne), the film recounts the story of how her BAFTA triumph was made. But overpowered by her new husband, Arthur Miller (Dougray Scott), overawed by her new Director, the finest actor of his generation, Lawrence Olivier (Kenneth Branagh) and overwhelmed by her new advisers - acting coach Paula Strasberg (Zoe Wanamaker) and business partner Milton Greene (Dominic Cooper) – Marilyn falls apart, her self-confidence in ruins.

Branagh is terrific, in the role of his life, his physical likeness to Olivier almost too close for comfort. His emotional outbursts are a joy to behold from his hysteria at Marilyn’s tardiness to his resentment at her (lack of) skill, His grimaces of distaste will linger long in the memory. But if Branagh is a shoe-in for an Oscar nomination, then Williams is a certainty for the ultimate prize, dominating the set as no other before her. Absent is the Marilyn of the pout and heaving breasts, the beguiler of a president and the sex symbol of her time. The Marilyn before us is an insecure child, lost and alone and desperate for love. Between the booze, the drugs the sex, she briefly sparkles like a fire but the stage is set and the path is fixed and her road to ruin decided. Redmayne does his best but for a man enchanted and in first love seems rather wooden and restrained. Cooper and Wanamaker go through the motions but only Judy Dench convinces, her turn as Dame Sybil Thorndike, gentle, touching and entirely convincing.

As for Clark himself, were his diaries - on which the movie is supposedly based - real, his thoughts imagined, his week with Marilyn invented? Perhaps. But if true what a week. Seven days of his life which he will never forget. Like Marilyn herself. Unforgettable.
Outstandingly constructed and executed. 10/10

RSM
November 2011

RSM
November 2011


Michelle Williams in My Week with Marilyn

Johnny English reborn

Johnny English Reborn (PG) 2011-101 minutes

One man. One mission. No chance.

Devotees of our would-be James Bond, Johnny English, (Rowan Atkinson), will embrace this new movie with gusto and relish, believing the sequel to be long overdue. Those less committed will find it amusing, unable to suppress the occasional laugh. But those few among you who hate slapstick, and farce, please be warned; stay firmly away.

As far as the plot is concerned, there is very little on offer. Inexplicably called back for duty (from a martial art school deep in the Himalayas) by Pegasus, (Gillian “The X Files” Anderson) the new head of Toshiba British Intelligence, English is charged with preventing the assassination of the Chinese Premier. Endeavouring to keep our secret agent alive is his partner, Agent Tucker,(Daniel Kaluuya) a charmingly enthusiastic but excruciatingly inexperienced sidekick who has the habit of calling his Mum in the middle of his missions. Johnny's love interest is the beguilingly beautiful Kate (Rosamund Pike), MI7's leading behavioural scientist who finds English "interesting....clinically". Completing the picture is Johnny’s pseudo-friend, Simon (Dominic “the Wire” West) who couldn’t possibly be a double-agent since he was educated at Eton.

English sets out to root out the "vole" deep in MI7. "Don't you mean mole sir”, Tucker inquires with more patience than English deserves. Blundering his way through to some sort of climax, English nonchalantly destroys MI7's entire range of gadgets from grenade-launching umbrellas and fuel-injected wheelchairs to voice-changing sweets and voice-activated Rolls-Royces. Helicopter pursuits and cable-car denouements complete the frantic and calamity-ridden framework.

While Kaluuya seems most promising, both Anderson and Pike seem out of their depth. These are competent actresses with the world at their feet. What on earth are they doing in a film of this sort? But make no mistake. This is a film for Atkinson alone and the plot is a platform to showcase his talents. And whether you like him or not, he has talents to spare from his rubbery face and his flexible body to his straight-faced delivery - the scene with the adjustable office chair is particularly amusing -and his perfect sense of timing. Perhaps best of all is his refusal to learn – his attacks on old ladies, the very essence of farce. Perhaps this goes to explain the enormous popularity of the Johnny English franchise outside the UK. Johnny English. Made in GB.

Amusing in parts but two movies is (more than) enough. 5/10

Richard Smith-Morgan
October 2011

Othello

Othello, Greenwich Theatre, October 10-12 2011 90 minutes

Some ropes, a lantern and a battered tea chest. Three young actors and ninety short minutes to unfurl a timeless classic. A challenge too far or the chance of a lifetime? The producers, a collaborative effort between the Nuffield and Yellowfield theatre groups have bent Shakespeare to their will -trimming the cast, emptying the stage, cutting the time and even modifying "the Moor", who significantly here is white. The characters embrace their new challenge with vigour and vim.

Othello (Craig Pinder) bursts onto the stage in a fireball of emotion, now passionate in his devotion - "If it were now to die, 'twere now to be most happy," now riddled with jealousy and wishing his Desdemona dead -"Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men" he tearfully laments. But while vigorous, committed and in control of his phrasing, he rather rushes his dialogue, declining to linger and let us savour the meaning. Iago (Moses Hardwick), by contrast, is quite the reverse, his delivery more measured, his diction more precise but emotionally weaker and ultimately failing entirely to convince. Desdemona (Belinda “Libby from Eastenders” Owusu) provides some balance, compelling and persuasive when declaring her love – “your wife my Lord, your true and loyal wife” - –but touching and affecting when she pleads for her life - "Kill me tomorrow, let me live tonight". Given what is regarded as a difficult role, her transition from screen to stage was remarkably smooth.

More controversial, perhaps, was the adaptation itself with Director Robin Benfield courageous and strong, from the uncluttered staging – a particularly imaginative use of a short wave radio – to the minimalist cast. However, the abridgement to 90 minutes is much less clear cut, disrupting the tension and interrupting the flow and yet increasing our focus on the key characters of the play. But if the colour of Othello’s skin resonates much less than it once did, the main elements of the play will forever resound; masculine pride and the importance of saving face, the position of women in a society of men and manipulation for gain at the expense of another.

Benfield has assessed his audience –his adaptation is clearly aimed at the young – to a tee. Where pleasure must be instant, three hours is too long. Shakespeare for ninety minutes or Shakespeare not at all.
A thoughtful, courageous and enjoyable adaptation. 7/10

Dick Morgan
October 2011

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (15) 127 minutes-2011

Another week, another revamp. Director Tomas Alfredson, who first came to prominence with the vampire movie, "Let the Right One In", brings us his adaptation of John Le Carre’s famous novel. The book was a classic if complex and slow. The TV series, with Alec Guiness, was both timely and relevant and even quite chilling, for its time. But what of this remake, all spies, smoke and bad hair. Does the Cold War really resonate with the audiences of today?

The story itself is simple enough. MI5 has been breached right up to the top. But in a world of deception where paranoia is the norm, how can you tell and where do you start. Its leader, Control, (John Hurt) feels personally betrayed and drags a reluctant George Smiley (Gary Oldman) out of his comfortable retirement to sort out the mess. Systematic, meticulous and bereft of emotion, just who is the mole? Alleline (Toby Jones), Haydon (Colin Firth), Bland (Ciaran Hinds) or Esterhase (David Dencik).

Despite the strong line-up, the cast disappoints, one dimensional in range and too lacking in colour. Oldman's restraint is over the top, unmoved by his wife or by the loss of his colleagues. Firth is the same, all half-smiles and frowns and even Mark Strong seems off-colour at best, the shooting in Hungary laboured and false, the bead of sweat on the table too obvious and heavy. While Hurt has his moments, now angry now lost, but at least at ease in his role, it is Peter Guillam (Benedict Cumberbatch) who impresses as he gradually unravels, unable to cope. But if the acting is lightweight, Cameraman Hoyte van Hoytema and designer Maria Djurkovic build an atmosphere that is good and settings that are better. This is a world where the colours are grey where the sun never shines and where no-one cares if you die. Tall faceless men pace down long, smoke filled rooms, a waiting room for death, a relief when it comes. This is a world far removed from James Bond where the heroes are revered and the good guy gets the girl.

Ultimately the movie misses because information can’t be shown and, despite the best efforts of husband and wife writing team - Peter Straughan and the late Bridget O'Connor – who give us anecdote after anecdote - Guillam raiding the files or the surreal office party - and expect us to connect the dots, we are left floundering on our own finding connections where none were intended. A key image for me were the points on the railway; they shift, they connect and the train goes on by. A metaphor for Smiley’s mind or points on a rail track.

Disappointing and long. 2/10
Richard Smith-Morgan
September 2011

Liane Carroll

Liane Carroll
Greenwich Jazz Festival
The Tudor Barn, Eltham, November 11, 2011

British singer-pianist, Liane Carroll, launched the Greenwich Jazz Festival at The Tudor Barn, Eltham with a mesmerising, magical and soul-stirring performance. The Festival, one of series of cultural events sponsored by Greenwich Council, is testimony to the cultural richness of Greenwich. She will be a hard act to follow.

The 16th century Barn, an elegant mix of new bricks and old beams, is set in 13 acres of parkland and the ideal location for an evening of jazz. Intimate, charming and acoustically excellent, the food looked good too. "I love coming here", Liane smiled warmly. It's like singing for friends".

With minimal fuss, she simply sat down and played and 150 people fell silent to a ballad from Tom Wait, “Take me Home”, and that old Peggy Lee classic, “He’s a tramp”. Carroll’s talent is natural, unassuming and unpretentious and her playing appeared effortless. She started playing at 3, a concert pianist as her tutor. “Did you ever mind practising”, I asked before the show. "Only as I got older and saw my mates playing out", she smiled wistfully. They were hours well spent. Her timing is crisp, her phrasing is tight and her rhythm just perfect.

Liane was but 6 when her parents divorced and she admits that she had difficulties adjusting. But, with both parents as singers and a grandmother who played piano, she was "destined for music", Barely pausing for breath, she moved on to Cole Porter (Love For Sale) and then to her own spectacularly improvised version of Joni Mitchell's, "Put up a parking lot". "I play what I want", she laughed smiling, “but give the songs my own style, even though", she added turning briefly serious "people were forever telling me to change". Thank goodness she didn't or we might never have heard her version of Hoagy Carmichael's Stardust “which I loved playing with Humprey” (Littleton), or the highlight of the evening, Waits' "Take it with me when I go”.

The second half was somehow as enchanting as the first with Laura Nyro's” He's a runner” and Carole King’s “You’ve got a friend”, showcasing the power and range of Liane’s chocolate-textured voice. Another ballad from Wait – Picture in a Frame - was charged with such emotional intensity that it had the audience close to tears. She closed with Dublin Morning, a song of her own, dedicated to her husband, bassist Roger Carey, but in memory of her (Irish-born) father. “I love doing what I do, it’s a simple as that”, she told me later.
How it showed. 10/10.

DM
November 2011

Bell, Book and Candle

Bell Book and Candle

Greenwich Playhouse, Greenwich, November 23rd 2011

If you hold “practise makes perfect” to be true, then the cast of Bell, Book and Candle, currently running at The Playhouse in Greenwich, must have worked tirelessly for months. In a cosy but atmospheric location, unexpectedly at the top of a pub, the cast gave a flawless performance and deserved better than the (half) empty theatre to which they played.

The play, directed by Mark Giesser and produced by Alces Productions, is an old-fashioned, romantic comedy based on the 1950s Broadway hit by John Van Druten. Generally regarded as the precursor to the successful 1960s TV series, Bewitched, it tells the tale of a beautiful young witch from Manhattan, Gillian Holroyd (Zoe Teverson). With only fellow witches and warlocks for company, she is bored, frustrated and lonely. Secretly she toys with a radical idea; to give up her life and become mortal. With the aid of her cat, Pyewacket, she casts a spell on her neighbour, Shepherd Henderson (Stephen Cavanagh) and at once he falls deeply in love. Her impish brother, Nicky (Duncan MacInnes) is outraged, her Aunt Queenie (Carole Street) is supportive and a local author of witchcraft, Sidney Redlitch, (John Sears), is left bemused.

Pivotal to the play is the interaction of the leads and in particular, the immediacy of their chemistry. Both rise to the challenge on roller coasters of emotion, each swept to the heights and then dashed to the ground. Teverson is exceptional. Elegant and poised, her articulation is immaculate, her velvet-voice alluring and the emotional finale very touching. Cavanagh is her equal, confident and self-assured now desperately devoted, now sceptical of her skills but all the while effortlessly convincing. MacInnes, the warlock brother, makes the most of his role, mischievous and menacing but lightening the tone. Everyone plays their part, be it large, be it small and Street and Sears fit in nicely to this excellent quintet.

Space constraints notwithstanding, the staging (John Scheffler) is remarkable - elegant cushions, art deco sofas and a mechanical cat which meows and moves its paws - and the costumes (Giulia Scrimieri) of their era - long flowing evening gowns with white gloves to match. Giesser stays close to the original script, steering clear of the dark implications of the title - "ring the bell, close the book, quench the candle", a clear reference to excommunication. Instead what he gives us is a sparkling night out in a theatrical oasis of South London. 8/10.

Dick Morgan
November 2011

Four Poofs and A Piano

Four Poofs and a Piano
Greenwich Theatre, October 26, 2011

David Roper, David Wickenden, Ian Parkin and Stephen de Martin. None the wiser? Four middle-aged gay men. Still nothing? The former house band on a chat show with Jonathan Ross? Ah, now you remember. Four Poofs and a Piano are now touring the UK and the scene of their last (ever) London gig was the Greenwich Theatre last Wednesday night.
We didn't know quite what to expect. After all, the occasional song on recorded TV is really very different from a live gig on stage. Fortunately, their choice of material was appealingly broad; from the serious- a quite respectable version of Bohemian Rhapsody - to the absurd - a hilarious rendition of Bollywood songs (and dances) - the outrageous - a hideous male-only Nutcracker complete with tutus and spare tyres - and the clever - where the pianist (Roper) simply invents a new song. Throw in everything in between - Lloyd Weber musicals, number one hits (Adel), a totally sacrilegious Ave Maria and an ode to pornography ("I love porn") - and you have a sense of the group.

But make no mistake, despite the larking around, self-deprecating humour and intentionally camp style, they are talented all. David R at the piano is really quite good; an excellent range and a delicate touch; David W, is simply charming and the soul of the group. Endlessly energetic and light on his feet, his song at the piano, explaining his girth, - " I ate all the pies"- was feisty and sweet. Ian's all-round performance and his nonchalance on the drums matched de Martin's vocal solo - the strongest singer in the group. His release of a (solo) album may help explain "our final London gig" and is perhaps a sign of the end.

But if they are to split up – and I couldn’t help but wonder just where is their niche – it won’t be for want of trying or for a lack of hard work. Their ideas are funny, their lyrics are good, their harmonies well practised and their dance routines slick. While individually competent, collectively they work well each comfortable with the other and confident in themselves.

If occasionally they transverse the barriers of good taste, they do it with style and they do it with care. While John in the front was the butt of their jokes, he went home for his trouble with a copy of their CD. And a kiss.

Entertaining. 6/10.

An UnShappi Evening

Shappi Khorsandi

Me and my brother in our pants, holding hands

Blackheath Halls, Saturday October 22 2011

Stand-up comedians are not short of courage. With no props to hide behind, they must engage with their audience, deliver with aplomb and close with panache, all of which Shappi Khorsandi seemed to forget on the latest leg of her UK tour - My Brother and me in our pants, holding hands - at the Blackheath Halls last Saturday night. We were shown two different women and frankly both of them fell flat.

Shappi, playing to a disappointingly low turnout, divided her show into two, unequal parts with raw, inexperienced, “Bad Shappi” up first – “I can’t afford a support act so I do it myself” with the warmer, professional, “Good Shappi” to follow.
It didn’t start well with “Hello Blackheath”, as unoriginal as you get and her material limited to working the front row. Unusually for her profession, she does this with tact. Unfortunately for Shappi, there was little to work with; an elderly couple, a family of farmers and an Iranian family reluctantly moved up to front, while telling their daughter that "GCSEs don't really matter". Sadly, her interactions lacked sparkle, her delivery was disjointed and it was only her charisma that got us through to the break, barely thirty minutes through.

Refreshed from our drinks, we returned ever hopeful, eager to re-discover the talented comedienne who hosts her own show (Shappi Talk on Radio 4) and who has penned a new novel (A Beginners Guide to Acting English).Shappi’s at her best when she speaks from the heart; the death threats to her father stating that the children not be harmed-“how sweet is that", – the divorce from her partner – “I’ve forgotten how to date” and the rearing of a toddler whom, she rages, “simply can’t colour neatly”. Ultimately however, she fell flat, no amount of personality disguising the flaws; not connecting with her audience, nor refreshing her material – her relationship with her brother not unusual in any way -, over-indulging in the personal - there are only so many toddler stories one can take - and unforgivably, struggling with her flow.

If Shappi is to last, then she clearly needs to grow, rediscover why she stands there and reinvent just what she says. An off-night for Shappi or the beginning of the end? 3/10.

Dick Morgan
October 2011

Ukulele Orchestra

The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain
The Blackheath Concert Halls
September 23- 24, 2011

It is small, unprepossessing and has only 4 strings. Popularised by George Fornby in the 1930s, this "poor relation" of the guitar family is without artifice and generally looked down upon by classical musicians. But take the four different sizes, soprano, concert tenor and baritone and put them in the hands of them to the 8 members of the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain and you have an excellent night out.

Together, more or less, since 1985, the band has its origins in the "Republic of South Yorkshire" to quote nominal leader, George Hinchcliffe, when his father first bought him the instrument. "Could we have strings”, he is said to have asked. The orchestra have been touring ever since and have somehow today turned into a world renowned band. “We're thinking of launching a perfume”, Dave "pony-tail" Suich quipped last night.

If the instrument lacks gravitas, then so too does the group, full of self-deprecating humour and refusing to be taken or indeed take themselves, too seriously. "This poxy instrument can’t do much...and it forces us to think imaginatively about how to make sounds", Mr Grove-White added refreshingly. But make no mistake these are skilled musicians all and what they do with the instrument is quite astonishing to behold. In addition to the finger speed, versatility and control, their voices are compelling and the harmonies strong. There was even a whistling solo by baritone player Jonty Bankes, whose rendition of Bowie's Life on Mars was as unusual but as melodious as the unaccompanied Pin Ball Wizard to the rhythm of a sea-shanty.

While part two of the show lacked the impact of the first, renditions of The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, Slave to the Rhythm and Teenage Dirtbag kept the crowd happy as did some quite spectacular solos by Hinchcliffe and Richie Hall. But their 25 years together has taught them one thing above all; that you rise and you fall as a team. Nothing worked better than their final encore; seven different songs somehow sung simultaneously to one single tune.

Thanks to a much improved programme, the Halls were once again packed and the audience loved what they saw. "I absolutely no idea that a Ukulele Orchestra could possibly be quite so good", an elderly gentlemen remarked to his wife. Frankly, neither did I. Book early so as not miss out on next year. 8/10

September 2011

Richard Smith-Morgan

A breath of fresh "Eyre" or cinema in decline

Jane Eyre PG 121 minutes 2011

A breath of fresh Eyre or cinema in crisis?

The 18th remake of Charlotte Bronte's great novel says much about cinema today. So too does Sherlock, Tinker Tailor, Planet of the Apes and the incessant flow of rom coms starring Jennifer Anniston. Where oh where are budding authors of tomorrow? Where oh where the new stories? Where oh where is the talent?

It's not that the new remake is bad. In fact it's actually rather good, our eponymous heroine (19 year-old Mia Wasikowska), as compelling a Jane as the definitive Joan Fontaine and beautifully capturing the paradox that is Jane. Externally plain, her clothes without frills, her hair without curls and her features without make-up, she burns brightly within, confident of mind and determined of spirit. Her self-possession in the face of her duplicitous aunt (Sally Hawkins) and vindictive headmaster (Simon McBurney) are as extraordinary as her verbal sparring with Rochester (Michael Fassbender) himself. When he condescendingly seeks out her personal tale of woe - "for all governesses must have one ", - she crushes him without mercy like an ant underfoot.

Fassbender rises to her challenge oozing charisma and exuding masculinity. Undaunted by refusal and undeterred by his tragic past, he slowly starts to court her, simmering and smouldering but unorthodox of approach. She, for her part, rejects him, not trusting her emotions and more comfortable in self restraint. "I have simply no wish to talk nonsense" she snaps when he begins his advances.

While Jamie Bell as her gallant protector, Mr St John Rivers, tries to steal her affection in an assertive, mature and highly polished performance, it is Rochester whom she loves and Rochester whom she shall have and the scene where Rochester begs Jane to stay after their ill-fated wedding is as emotionally charged as any before it.

Director Cary Fukunaga - who made his name with Sin Nombre about Central American immigrants making their way to the US - directs with a maturity beyond his years overseeing an excellent script (Moirai "Tamara Drewe" Buffini) and an equally competent score (Dario Marianelli). But it is the photography that impresses from the desolation of the moors to the isolation of the houses with the unrelenting North Yorkshire weather, their constant companion.

So fresh Eyre or another remake? It's for you to decide. As for me, enough is enough. Enough of the sequels and enough of the remakes. Rather a poor original than an excellent copy. 2/10.

Richard Smith-Morgan
September 2011

The Art of Getting By (12A) – 83 minutes 2011

The Art of Getting By (12A) – 83 minutes 2011

I expected to hate it. An angst- ridden youth in search of himself, disrespectful at home, disengaged at his school. A lovely companion whose advances he ignores and dysfunctional parents oblivious to it all. But it was better than I thought, the two leads, in particular, surprisingly good.

The story is simple. Disenchanted young George (Freddie Highmore) meets lonely young Sally (Emma Roberts). They soon fall in love but neither dares admit it and as the great bard would have it, true love runs not smooth.

We ought to dislike George – he does everything he can to push us away. He is arrogant, he is thoughtless and entirely self-absorbed and yet somehow we like him and feel for his plight. We, like his mother, (nicely underplayed by Rita Wilson, the wife of Tom Hanks), overlook the bad behaviour. We like his headmaster (Blair “LA Law” Underwood – his first big screen role in quite a while) are glad he’s not expelled and we like his teacher (a barely recognisable Alicia Silverstone) see only what is good.

Highmore is impressive and has really come of age, long gone the child actor of Neverland and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Here is an adult in control of his role. Hiding himself away in a long winter coat, he is outwardly fatalistic and disillusioned with life. But inwardly he burns with a passion to paint but dark, haunting doodles are the best he can manage. He needs a spark to ignite him and that spark is Sally.

Roberts is good although her role is less demanding and her character less complex. Touching and tender she opens up his soul, enters his world and likes what she sees. The cast - including a short cameo from Steven Spielberg’s daughter, Sasha - makes the most of debut writer / director Gavin Wiesen’s limited framework but the dialogue is crisp and the duration (less than 90 minutes) about right. Look out for the two leads of whom much more will be seen.

Much better than expected, but wait for the DVD. 5/10
DM
September 2011

An Evening with Jo Nesbo

An Evening with Jo Nesbo
The Prince Charles Cinema, Leicester Square, August 23, 2011

His novels are dark, his murders are graphic and his hero, Harry Hole, is a drunk. And yet two Jo Nesbo books are currently sold every minute. Why on earth are Scandinavian crime writers so popular? One of the questions that Mark Billingham, himself an acclaimed crime writer, put to Jo in an hour long interview at a packed West End cinema, earlier this week.

Nesbo was refreshingly honest in his response. “I’d like to think that it was the quality of the stories and the depth of the research” he said citing, among others, Henning Mankell, Stieg Larsson and Peter Hoeg. Nesbo, won the celebrated, Glass Key Award for (best Nordic novel) for his very first book back in 1997, The Batman, whichstrangely, like his second, Cockroaches, has yet to be translated into English.

Equally compelling though are the unfamiliar backdrops and remote locations with strange sounding names. Holidaying westerners still avoid Scandinavia turning south in search of guaranteed sun. The deeply flawed characters are similarly intriguing; Mankell’s Wallender is divorced, lonely and unable to commit; Larsson’s Salander is anti-social and psychotic and Hole himself is a mess, a chain-smoking alcoholic in constant conflict with both himself and his colleagues. But it is what they lack that makes them work, gives them depth and makes them human.

Nesbo might never have written novels. Born in 1960 in Oslo, he seemed destined to play football until serious injuries to both his knees. After graduating from the Norwegian School of Economics, he drove a taxi (which he liked) and worked in stockbroking (which he didn’t) while simultaneously singer-song writing in a successful, Norwegian rock band, di Derrre. Stockbroking by day and gigs by night finally took its toll and Nesbo took time out to reflect on what to do. He went to Thailand and wrote The Batman and the rest is, as they say, history. Nine Harry Holes have followed – The Ghost is due for UK publication next year – but Harry is not immortal – “I have had the ending planned since the very start”.

This is a man who simply doesn’t waste time. His latest book, Headhunters, is a standalone novel about an accomplished art thief and will be published next week with a movie soon to follow. At long last Nesbo has reluctantly - “This is like putting my baby on the bus to the big city for the first time” sold the film rights of The Snowman. Working Title expect to start production later this year.

We should enjoy Nesbo while we can since this talented, hard-working and very likeable man simply refuses to stand still. Whatever he does next, he will surely do it well.
Richard Smith Morgan
August 2011

One Day

One Day (12A) 108 minutes – 2011

The release of One Day has been shrouded in sniping. Would Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan have done a better job? Can a glamorous American play a retiring, English Rose? Does the emotion of the novel truly shine through? But these are minor quibbles and to snipe is to miss the point. This is an excellent adaptation of a marvellous book.

The film, based on the hugely successful eponymous novel by David Nicholls, tells the story of Emma (Anne Hathaway) and Dexter (Jim Sturgess) two Edinburgh students whose post-finals fling leads to an intertwining of souls. But neither soul is ready and the combination seems doomed; he is wealthy and confident, she poor and insecure. Over the next twenty years, on the same day each year, we catch up with their lives, what has worked, what has not. We see them together, holidaying in France and we see them apart, her as a waitress, he on TV. But through the ups and through the downs, we see what they miss; two people in love.

Hathaway and Sturgess work beautifully together, their chemistry almost palpable such is its strength. Her longing for him lies just under the surface, barely suppressed and ready to break; his passion for her rages equally strong but lies deeper and more hidden in spite of himself. While Hathaway’s transformation from ungainly student to sophisticated gamine is both compelling and persuasive, it is Sturgess who impresses. Superficial and hedonistic, he is despised by his father (resolutely played by Ken Stott), disowned by his mother (touchingly played by Patricia Clarkson) and even abandoned by his soul mate who tells him that she no longer “likes him”. But in spite of it all, Sturgess still keeps us close; we put up with the drugs and the booze and the girls; we accept that he is troubled and lost and alone; and we welcome him back as the man he once was as we sense his misgivings over whom he has become.

The transformation to the big screen of an episodic and flashback-driven novel is handled with no little skill by Danish Director Lone (An Education) Scherfig. One Day is not simply a love story with gags. It is the story of life; the dreams we start out with, our hearts full of hope; our successes, our failures, the aspirations we let slip; reality and self-awareness and the compromises we endure.

Outstanding adaptation. 9/10
DM
August 2011

Rise of the Planet of the Apes

The rise of the planet of the apes (PG) 105 minutes 2011

Apes in charge of humans. The Statue of Liberty broken and in ruins. Charlton Heston's closing words; "My God, what have we done?" The ending to the 1968 original Planet of the Apes movie was truly iconic. A TV series and four sequels were to follow including Tim Burton's disastrous 2001 reboot starring Helena Bonham Carter. Now, forty years on, the prequel from Director Rupert Wyatt explaining how we got it all so wrong.

The concept is hardly novel. Genetic scientist, Will Rodman (James "127 Hours" Franco) is on the verge of a major discovery -a cure for degenerative brain diseases. After successfully testing a serum on laboratory chimpanzees, he injects his own Alzheimer-suffering father mankind go so wrong? (John Lithgow) with the new drug and astonishingly, his father recovers, an improved, more intelligent version than before. But a young chimp called Caesar, raised by Rodman himself and also injected with the serum, shows equally impressive signs of intelligence above and beyond the capacity of his kind.

Caesar grows quickly becoming stronger and more powerful and sufficiently intelligent to lead a break out from the so-called ape-sanctuary in which he has been confined, in the process accidentally electrocuting his sadistic jailor, (Tom Felton better known as Draco Malfoy of Harry Potter fame). The climax -ironically not set in New York City - is cleverly constructed, the action scenes exciting and the chimps by now as, if not more, intelligent than their captors.

While Franco and Lithgow are competent, Felton does more than enough to suggest that he is well on the way to unlocking the shackles of his Harry Potter past. Freida "Slumdog Millionaire" Pinto is Franco's love interest but she is given little to do and even less to say. But the stars of the show are without doubt the apes, Andy Serkis, who famously portrayed Gollum in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, once again leading the way. Motion capture technology – involving hundreds of sensors positioned all over the body – has thankfully confined the need for costumes well and truly to the past Some of the chimps' facial expressions are truly astonishing. The cinematography is equally impressive from Caesar's gymnastics as a baby to his later invasion of the suburbs.

Wyatt's homage to the original is plain enough to see; Caesar gluing a toy statue of liberty, Charlton Heston in a scene on a prison TV, and most notably the Heston’s second most memorable line as he astonishes an ape by demonstrating the power of speech "take your stinking paws off me. Oh and don't leave before the coda, you might miss the best bit.
Good enough to resurrect the franchise. 8/10.

DM
August 2011

Cars 2

Cars 2 U 112 minutes 2011

Pixar hits a bump in the road

It didn’t bode well. The main feature was preceded by an eight minute taster from the Toy Story stable, the Oscar winning makers of Toy Story 3. While all the character are present including Woody (Tom Hanks) and Buzz (Tim Allen), it fails to excite, it fails to engage and for Pixar, it’s a rare 4/10.

Pixar animations work on a number of levels. Children’s movies became a pleasure and suddenly not a chore. When children followed Woody and Buzz and the toys, adults saw their children growing up and leaving home (Toy Story); when children looked at clown fish and turtles and sharks, their parents saw disability and the loss of a child (Finding Nemo); and when children looked at space ships and robots and stars (Wall-E), we feared for the future of our planet. But when we watch Cars 2, we all see the same.

The storyline stalls on the grid as a 007-spy-story- including Finn McMissile (voiced by Michael Caine) and Holley Shiftwell (Emily Mortimer) – is awkwardly interwoven into the glamorous world of grand prix racing. The hero of Cars 1, Lightning McQueen (Owen Wilson), is pitted against a new and flashy Italian F1 rival called Francesco (John Turturro) and a whole fleet (read merchandising opportunities) of new characters, none of whom stand out. The star of the show is a broken down, dim-witted, tow-truck called Mater (voiced by the oddly named US comedian, Larry the Cable Guy) mistakenly identified for a CIA agent and perhaps that says it all. But if the storyline is poor, the voiceovers are even weaker, Wilson lacking intonation and flair and the Cable Guy’s southern whine quickly grating on the nerves. Michael Caine provides a modicum of redemption, his timing and articulation typically robust.

Cars 2 is only the second Pixar film with a sequel – Toy Story is the other – and it’s a strange choice of film. Director John Lasseter’s great skill is to bring the inanimate to life, toys in a bedroom, fish in the ocean, even robots out in space. But cars are less endearing, their shapes far less human, their eyes less expressive. While Cars 2 has its moments – the chases are exciting and it is technically brilliant (despite the 3D), - there’s a problem with the engine in that the car is out of fuel.

Disappointingly one-dimensional. 5/10 DM

August 2011

Horrible Bosses (15) 2011

Horrible Bosses

It’s official. Gross humour is in fashion. While The Hangover 1 put a toe in the water, Hangover 2 simply jumped right on in while in Bridesmaids, the girls threw off their costumes. Now we have Horrible Bosses, a modern day farce from Director Seth Gordon, jam-packed with bad taste. Horrible Bosses, is appalling; it is coarse, it is vulgar, it has Jennifer Anniston as a foul mouthed nymphomaniac; it is also very funny.

The concept is simple; we are required to sympathise with the plights of three friends, Jason Bateman, Jason Sudeiki and Charlie Day, whose respective bosses, Kevin Spacey (bully), Colin Farrell (greedy) and Jennifer Anniston (nympho) are making their lives hell although the latter idea is somewhat difficult to grasp. Pushed to their breaking points, they hatch a cunning plan with the help of a “murder consultant” (Jaime Foxx) who goes by the pseudonym of MotherF***** Jones, preferable, in his line of business, to his real name of Dean Jones, the hero of Love Bug. The essence of this master plan is that each will murder the other friend’s boss in order to lay a false trail. Needless to say, the plan goes awry with the friends lurching from one crisis to the next.

Something clearly worked given that the movie recovered the majority of its costs ($35m) in its opening weekend ($28m). A heavy-hitting cast is part of the answer; Spacey convincingly psychopathic – “I own you… you’re my bitch” he viciously taunts Bateman denying his promotion – Anniston, persuasively slutty (but will she ever find a role that truly showcases her talent) and Farrell, replete with wig, surprisingly funny. “We need to cut some fat”, he demands of his company in between bouts of coke-sniffing and womanising, “let’s start with large Marge”.

While the humour is juvenile, it is quick, well delivered - Sudeikis’s sadistic revenge bringing a whole new dimension to DNA sampling – and politically incorrect from over frequent references to Day’s presence on the sex offenders list (for peeing in a schoolyard) to Farrell’s wish to fire his wheelchair-bound employee because he makes him feel “creepy”. Gordon manages this dilemma tongue firmly in cheek bringing order from chaos and yet encouraging the gags.

A new line in the sand has been drawn and for now, it’s far enough. Let us hope it stays where it is for just a little bit longer. Entertaining and amusing if unmemorable. 6/10

DM
August 2011

Treacle Junior

Treacle Junior 15 – 2011 (82 minutes)

Stuck in a sticky rut

“Most men lead quiet lives of desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them”. The American philosopher, Henry James Thoreau could easily have been talking about the three protagonists of Treacle Junior, the latest offering from British, writer-director, Jamie Thraves.

Nominally, it tells the story of Tom (Tom Fisher) who inexplicably and recklessly abandons his comfortable, middle class existence for a homeless life on the streets of South East London.
Tom stumbles upon Aidan, (Aidan Gillen) a kind-hearted but over-exuberant misfit, whose outlook on life is as impossibly hopeful as Tom’s is dark. The uneasy alliance between two fundamentally incompatible souls is explored with both humour and sensitivity, their relationship made more complex by the introduction of Aidan's promiscuous and violent girlfriend, Linda (Riann Steele). The three cautiously rub along while running parallel lives; she turning tricks, Aidan with small odd-jobs and Tom a spectator looking on, too self-absorbed to help.

On a more subliminal level however, Treacle is an amusing but moving commentary on aspiration, our protagonists each on different points of the spectrum. Tom is at one end - a Doctor, married with a child, a house, a home, and yet dissatisfied with his lot – while Linda is at the other, hopeless and alone, aimlessly drifting from her violent boyfriend to Aidan whom she despises, her moment of self-loathing following her meaningless sexual encounter with Tom, particularly poignant. Aidan sits in the middle, aspiring to something more, something better although economically shackled, a set of drums, which he will never afford, the symbol of his hope. But at least Tom is free to choose, the discovery of a credit card his passport to freedom.

With its touching script, sharp dialogue and outstanding acting, Thraves was convinced of the movie’s success even re-mortgaging his home to raise the finance. Gillen, while unsympathetic, is outstanding, from his curious mannerisms to his spittle-covered beard, his energy almost physically tiring to behold. Fisher, while less loquacious, also convinces, distraught, upset and lost within himself and Steele's interplay with both shows great promise for the future. If Treacle has its limitations – it fails to explore the feelings of Tom’s wife or even the reasons for his departure - it is good to have Thraves back (after his ten year absence from the screen) ,and to hear the characters at least try to “sing their songs”.

A compelling if less-than-uplifting tale. 7/10

DM
August 2011

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 12A – 2011 (130 minutes)

Thanks for the ride…

The journey is over. After 7 books, 1.2 million words and this, the last of 8 films, it is time to say goodbye, time for our trio to take a rest and time for us to reflect. What a journey it has been. Generations of children have grown up with the actors. Generations of adults have become life-long fans and generations of the future are in for such a treat.

But before we can rest, there is one final battle. Hogwarts is under siege and the outcome is far from clear. In a tone more sinister than anything hitherto, Harry must discover and destroy the keys to you-know-who’s soul. Director David Yates puts the relative disappointment of Part 1 firmly behind him in a breath-taking production of Part 2, the special effects of which are quite stunning. We plunge the depths on impossible rollercoasters only to soar to the heights on the wings of a dragon. We marvel at the treasures in the vaults of Gringott’s bank, we wonder at stone armies brought to life with one new spell.

We wonder too at the sheer strength of the cast. While our trio have been strong, Radcliffe particularly touching if unheroic, Watson increasingly persuasive and Grint, naturally funny – the support cast has been dazzling, Bonham Carter (Bellatrix) hysterically evil, Michael Gambon (Dumbledore) the personification of patience and Maggie Smith (Minerva McGonagall) endlessly reassuring. But above them all stands Alan Rickman (Severus Snape), his clipped tones so threatening, his penetrating eyes staring deep into the soul. His final scenes with Dumbledore are one of the highlights not just this movie but of the entire series.

As the battle nears its end and Harry wanders through the ruins that were his school, he is appalled. “I never meant for people to die” – he laments to his dead parents before seeking out his nemesis for the final confrontation. “The boy who lived has come to die”, Voldemort jeers mockingly, reckoning without, well, that would be telling.

But with closure there is sadness; never again will we queue up at midnight to purchase the new book; never again will we phone up for hours to ensure tickets for first night; never again will we buy the latest DVD. The brand will live on - the new theme park in Orlando is a roaring success - but the stories are over and it is time to move on.

Goodbye Harry Potter and thank you for the ride. 9/10 DM

July 2011

The Tree of Life 12 A 2011

"If God had not existed, man would have had to invent him". Thus spoke Voltaire in an effort to explain mankind’s eternal desire to make sense of the world and to justify what appears to be random, inexplicable and unfair. Is a world without reason truly possible to bear? Nothing is more unreasonable than the death of a child and this is the driving force behind Terrence Malik's latest movie and the catalyst for a two and a half hour reflection on life, love and creation.

Sean Penn plays Jack, a successful but disenchanted corporate executive who looks back on the his life to find some sort of meaning; his fear of his father, a demanding and disciplinarian bully (Brad Pitt) constantly angry with his boys; his contempt but love for his mother, a beautiful, ethereal but weak-minded angel (Jessica Chastain) devoted to her church and to her God; and his relationship with his soon-to-die brother, never easy, never normal and ultimately full of regret.

Suddenly, without notice, the film descends into a lengthy and over-indulgent-camera-fest on the origins of life, losing both its direction and its audience. We are swept from volcanic eruptions to the implosion of stars, from the dawn of the earth the birth of new life including a carnivorous dinosaur that inexplicably releases its prey. While the camerawork is spectacular (Emmanuel Lubezki) and the music (Mahler, Berlioz and Holst) suitably compelling, Malik's philosophical meanderings utterly fail to convince. While the questions are valid – the meaning of life, our place in the world, the existence of God - the responses are weak none more so than Jack’s mother who abandons her child - "take my son", she blasphemes, in a clear parallel to Jesus Christ and his Father.

The characters do their best with Malik's sparse, repetitive and poorly drafted script, despite continual interruptions from inappropriate voiceovers. Pitt is very strong, his aggression believable and his regret sincere. Chastain glides serenely through her part, although her levitation is frankly bizarre. But Hunter McCracken (the young Jack) is the star, tormented and tormenting, and desperate for the approbation and love of his father. While the scale of Malik’s ambition is to be commended – presumably the reason for winning the 2011 Palme D’Or at the Cannes Film Festival - his execution disappoints and the movie ends up falling between stools; lightweight documentary or unfinished drama.

To be avoided at all costs. Spurious and poorly thought through. 5/10. DM

Larry Crowne 12A - 98 minutes

Larry Crowne - 12 A - 98 minutes 2011


Tom Hanks didn’t go to college. He didn’t get the grades and his parents lacked the money for the Ivy League schools. Like the hero of Larry Crowne, which he co-wrote, directed and plays the title role, Hanks made it the hard way, through graft and hard work.

If anyone has “been there, seen it and bought the T-shirt, it must be Thomas Jeffrey Hanks. A double Oscar winner – Philadelphia in 1993, - a hugely courageous decision given the perception of Aids at the time - and the incomparable Forrest Gump in 1994 - he is a friend of the US President and a recent dinner guest of Queen Elizabeth II. Even his TV productions – usually in association with Steven Spielberg - were enormously successful. With over $8 billion of revenues behind him, expectations run riot when new projects are announced. Larry Crowne was surely going to founder on Hanks’ tsunami of success. And largely, it does.

Hanks however, doesn't disappoint, his goofy charm as powerful as ever, his ability to move us - whether getting fired from his job or rejected by his girlfriend – still unbelievably strong. Hanks is also, and this is often overlooked, very funny. His timing great and his delivery is perfect - the scene where he resets his girlfriend’s satnav, hilarious. In everything that he does, he has surely become the ultimate professional in Hollywood.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of Hanks’s good friend and co-star, Julia Roberts. She simply fails to convince either as a teacher disillusioned with her lot or as a wife, frustrated by her husband's constant blogging and endless search for porn. Grumpy, frumpy and boozy is not what Robert is about - and her sudden transformation simply beggars belief. Jennifer Anniston sprang to mind but then perhaps Hanks doesn't know her as well.

The screenplay, it must be said, leaves considerable room for improvement for which co-author, Nia "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" Vardalos must take his share of the blame. Despite some witty repartee with Larry's neighbour, Lamar (delightfully played by Cedric The Entertainer), the story is too full of holes; Larry's invitation to join the scooter gang – the ultimate oxymoron - is as bewildering as the beautiful Talia's (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) interest in an unemployed, middle-aged bachelor.

The movie is ultimately undermined by its inability to decide what it is; old fashioned romcom or a parody thereof. But Hanks has reached a stage in his career where he can do as he chooses and if he wants to exorcise some failure-to-go-to college-demons, nobody is going to mind.
Light-hearted and mildly entertaining. 6/10 DM

July 2011

The Cherry Orchard

The Cherry Orchard
The National Theatre screened live from the Greenwich Picture house
June 2011

Few people would suggest that Chekhov’s plays are intensively dramatic and Howard Davies's new production of The Cherry Orchard - screened live from the National Theatre to cinemas around the globe - is no exception. The greatness of his writing lies in the dialogue, in the tone and particularly here, in the powerful and prescient political symbolism.

The play, first staged in 1904, both identifies and foretells the strong social undercurrents flowing through Russian society at the beginning of the 20th century. When Ranyevskaya (Zoe Wanamaker) stubbornly refuses to acknowledge the severity of her financial plight and the inevitable loss of her home and beloved cherry orchards, she surely represents the ultimate decline and fall of the Russian upper and upper-middle classes. Both the character and words of the radical but eternal student, Trofimov (Mark Bonnar) are eerily indicative of the revolution to come - the Tsar’s Guards firing on peaceful protesters in 1905 and the abdication of the Tsar himself only a dozen years later.

But Chekhov is much more than political symbolism, light comedy and farce never far from the surface. James Laurenson as Ranyevskaya's older brother is both amusing and absurd, constantly hiding from reality with irrelevant diatribes and imaginary games of billiards – “yellow into the middle pocket”. Tim McMullan turns Simyonov-Pischik, the endlessly-scrounging landowner into a bumbling fool for whom "something will eventually turn up". The main characters themselves are contradiction in terms; Ranyevskaya now stubborn, self-absorbed charismatic fool, now broken hearted mother and penniless wretch; Lopakhin (Conleth Hill), the merchant, at one moment assuaging his filial revenge the next declaring his undying love.

Wanamaker conveys her emotional dilemma with great sensitivity but it is Laurenson who catches the eye, ultimately losing himself in his own make-believe world. Claudie Blakely (Ranyevskaya’s adopted daughter) is equally strong, resolutely and with feeling awaiting a marriage proposal that she knows will never to arrive. Despite some irritatingly anachronistic dialogue -such as people "earning 25-30k a year" from Australian writer Andrew Upton and a surprising absence of cherry trees, the production is excellent, the Bunny Christie designed set, particularly impressive. Howard Davies has directed a series of successful productions at the National from Gorky’s Philistines to Bulgakov’s The White Guard, and once again he captures that distinctive Chekhovian mood.

As the estate is closed up, the old family retainer Firs (Kenneth Cranham) is inadvertently shut in, his way of life, literally in his case, consigned to the past.

A demanding but ultimately rewarding night out. 8/10

July 2011

Point Blank

Point Blank (15) 86 minutes 2011

French writer-director Fred Cavaye likes to push ordinary men to their limits. His debut movie – “Anything For Her” (2008) saw a college professor break his wife out of prison. In Cavaye's latest movie, "A Bout Portant", or Point Blank, a male hospital nurse tries to rescue his wife who has been kidnapped by criminals. Hollywood, ever vigilant for well-crafted stories, quickly remade Cavaye’s first movie into The Next Three Days (2010) putting Russell Crowe as the lead. Point Blank, similarly exciting and fast-paced is surely destined for a similar fate.

The movie explodes into life with the anti-hero, Hugo Sartet, (Roschdy Zem of Days of Glory fame), running for his life. Wounded in the chase, he is admitted to hospital in critical condition. Samuel (Gillles Lellouche) is the innocent man, a trainee nurse in the wrong place at the wrong time whose only crime is to witness a second attempt on Sartet's life. Samuel is soon thrust into an unfamiliar world in a desperate attempt to rescue his pregnant wife.

Lellouche is in fine form, beautifully transitioning from tender husband into desperate fugitive who will stop at nothing to get back his life, his daring escape in the metro particularly compelling. With nowhere to go, he turns to the police only to find that door slammed in his face. Zem is equally strong, his rugged, angular features- so memorable in Days of Glory - perfect for this role, his prolonged periods of silence implicit with violence. Lellouche and Zem together form a powerful, if reluctant, alliance, each in their different ways, desperate, resourceful and unwilling to lose. Elena Anaya as Nadia, has a nice cameo as Samuel’s simpering and vulnerable wife as do Gerard Lanvin and Mireille Perrier, rival police commanders on different sides of the law. Despite their limited roles, both performances are stylishly rich, Perrier’s unexpected demise, shockingly brutal.
Cavaye is unrelenting, barley pausing for breath, racing from one scene to the next.

The denouement – a cleverly arranged carnival of crime – unfolds within the claustrophobic confines of the last place Sartet would have chosen, police headquarters, some wonderful camerawork (Alain Duplantier) adding to the tension. The dialogue is crisp and for the most part –the unfolding of the plot somewhat heavy - well handled. At less than 90 minutes PB is refreshingly brief. Hollywood will surely change that but why wait for the re-make when the original is so fresh. 8/10.

DM
June 2011

Kung Fu Panda (12) 90 minutes 2011


Sequels rarely work the original idea almost always more robust and difficult to repli-cate both artistically and commercially. Thus KFP 2 in which our cuddly but rotund hero Po, fails to generate the same level of intensity In his quest for inner peace as he managed during his mastery of Kung Fu in KPF 1.

It starts off promisingly enough, our carefree hero (voiced by a relatively subdued Jack Black), ready to "kick ass" and "get me a piece of inner peace" as per instructed by his spiritual master, Master Shifu (Dustin Hoffman). Together with his friends, Tigress (Angelina Jolie), Monkey. (Jackie Chan) and Viper (Lucy Liu), Po goes in search of an evil peacock ( Gary Oldman) set on the subjugation of China through the use of his new, secret weapon, which fires "metal balls of fire".

Po however becomes distracted, questioning his origins and, to the incredulity of his friends, at last perceiving that, an elderly goose Mr Hong (James Ping), may not in actual fact, be his real father. Given the inherently farcical nature of this scenario, Black is surprisingly effective and at times, remarkably touching.

The script however, penned by the writers of KFP 1, Jonathan Aibel and Glenn Ber-ger, is lazy, lacking punch and originality and, some clever moments aside - particu-larly Po's unexpected re-appearance at the end - the wit, humour and intelligence of its more illustrious and to date, much more successful, predecessor. The sudden introduction of Po’s biological father for example - surely the green light for KPF 3 - is as unsubtle as it is disjointed. The movie - sadly for the backers - remains strictly one dimensional and fails to appeal to the older generation, a technique so wildly successful in the Toy Story trilogy, Finding Nemo and others. That said, my 11 year-old daughter found the movie exciting and in particular, loved the rooftop pursuits and death-defying stunts, which were "wicked". One-dimensional seems to have its moments.

The actors - or should we call them voices - have therefore disappointingly little on which to bite and consequently none of them stands out. The 3D technology helps to pass the time but its use remains limited and some impressive aerial views of the Chinese countryside notwithstanding, strangely lacking in impact. Jennifer Yuh Nelson, the first woman to direct a Hollywood animation, ensures that the pace never drops but the sequel has considerable room for improvement.


One for the children. 6/10. DM

June 2011

Senna 12A 2011. 106 minutes

Good docu-movies are like London buses. You wait for a long while and then two come along at the same time. First to arrive was the exceptional West Indian cricketing drama, Fire in Babylon, and now hot on its heels is “Senna”, a tribute to, and explanation of the Brazilian Formula One racing driver's exceptional ability, intriguing character and ultimately tragically short life.

Neither the most successful driver of his generation (his great rival, Alain Prost, won four championships) nor in the history of the sport (Michael Schumacher with 7), it is perhaps difficult to understand why the three-times world champion is held, even today, in an esteem bordering on devotion by both fans and drivers alike. His ability was undoubted - his completion of the 1991 Brazilian Grand Prix with only one gear (6th) at his disposal unparalleled to this day - and his courage second to none - his performance in torrential rain at Monaco in 1991 quite superb. But the continuing reverence in which he is still held in this age of superstardom would suggest something more profound.

The man himself was a contradiction in terms. Devoted to his family, he was a devout Catholic who believed that he was constantly in God's hands –“God gave me the race" he said of his 1991 victory. Equally committed philanthropically, he gave much of his wealth to disadvantaged Brazilian children whose desperate plight often moved him to tears. But on the racetrack he was ruthless, in constant conflict with teammates and rivals alike. “He wants to humiliate the other drivers”, Prost said of him bitterly. But Senna remained deeply loved up until and even beyond his untimely death during the San Marino Grand Prix in 1994, steering column failure later identified as the accident’s cause. The Brazilian government declared three days of mourning with an estimated 3 million people lining the streets of his hometown, Sao Paolo to pay their respects.

Director Asif Kapadia and writer Manish Pardey beautifully weave together literally hundreds of hours of newsreel and to date unseen F1 footage together with material from the Senna family's archive. Their decision to include new voice-over contributions from journalists and racing professionals alike was inspired and makes for an exceptionally intriguing backdrop even for those of you, like me, new to F1. But Senna remains the star, his short life a fury of emotion, his devotion to his sport, as powerful as to his god, the intensity of the movie enhanced by the knowledge of his inevitable fate.

A powerful and compelling analysis if slightly too long. 7/10. DM

June 2011

Don GIovanni Glyndebourne 2011

Glyndebourne 2011

Don Giovanni

The Sussex downs, a Summer's day, scones and clotted cream, parasols and gowns of gold. An afternoon at Glyndebourne, archetypally English. The Glyndebourne experience is truly one to cherish from the gorgeous setting and manicured gardens to the immaculate tea rooms (cream teas recommended) and three course dinners served quickly but with style. Little wonder that the waiting list now stretches beyond two decades.

A revolutionary new staging - a revolving, rotating and hydraulically operated grey cube - provides the backdrop for the latest outing of Mozart’s comic opera, Don Giovanni. Comic opera I hear you ask, with rape and murder to the fore? Or tragic tale tinged with comic moments. Jonathan Kent's outstanding new production opts firmly for the former, his touch gentle, tone light, his comedy quite pronounced.
Leporello, (beautifully played by Matthew Rose), firmly leads the way, his repartee with his amoral master, witty, sharp and crisp. Indeed, his rendition of the Madamina aria is one of the highlights of the evening, his performance threatening and even surpassing a strangely subdued Don Giovanni (Lucas Meacham) lacking passion and power, his duet – La ci darem la mano – with Zerlina (Marita Solberg) disappointing and weak. Zerlina, by contrast, rises to her surroundings, giving the performance of the evening. Coquettish and sexually provocative, she displays a purity of tone, moving shamelessly from one lover to the next and leading poor Masetto (David Soar) by the nose. Also disappointing were Donna Elvira (Mia Persson) and particularly Albina Shagimuratova’s soprano, who, despite coasting comfortably through Donna Anna's complex coloratura, failed to entirely engage.

The cube remains throughout, impassive and silent, its huge frame dominating the stage now as maiden’s window, now as townhouse courtyard and to all a talking point. To traditionalists, it courts controversy, its constant transitioning unnecessarily detracting but to modernists it is essential, the resurrection of a decomposing Commandatore from an almost semi vertical stage ultimately enhancing the dramatic effect.

Robin Ticciati with his trademark energy and attention to detail, manages to solicit an astonishing performance from The Orchestra of the Enlightenment - thereby surely cementing his candidacy as the Director of Glyndebourne for 2013 – and builds to an outstanding crescendo as Giovanni plunges into eternal damnation, the cube having metamorphosed, one final time, into the gates of hell.

7/10. Richard Smith Morgan

Elkie Brooks Live

Elkie Brooks live in Concert at the Blackheath Concert Halls

June 4 2011

I have always loved Elkie Brooks. Pearl’s a Singer, Gasoline Alley, Warm and Tender Love, I remember them all. So when I heard she was coming to the Blackheath Concert Halls in the heart of South East London, I rushed to buy tickets. A frisson of doubt bothered me. Well into her sixties, how good would she be? But I need not have worried, the power of her voice pushing back the years, her unaccompanied finale quite magnificent.

Success did not come easily to the Salford born, Elaine Bookbinder who left home at 15 to follow her dreams. Seventeen years of support roles (including the Beatles) were to follow until 1977 when finally, she recorded the song that was to make her name, Pearl’s A Singer. The Pearls album that followed, catapulted Elkie to stardom staying 79 weeks in the charts and making Elkie the then biggest selling, UK, female artist of all time. Mega stardom proved elusive, however, with an over-reliance on cover versions and her preference for middle-of-the-road ballads.

Playing to a full house of devotees (400 people), the evening got going with two tracks from her new album, Powerless, and then moved on to her own versions of Chris Rea’s, Fool if You Think It’s Over, and Procul Harum’s, Knights in White Satin. But Elkie is at her best with her own material - her rendition of Warm and Tender Love, one of the highlights of the evening. Comfortable and at ease on stage, she moved seamlessly from one track to another, the velvet-sounding voice as luxuriant as ever, the tones as rich, the rearrangements to suit her range, only minimal.
Apart from the obligatory rendition of Pearl, part two focussed on the new album, with an outstanding delivery of the eponymous single. While her repartee was limited (“the shopping in Blackheath is great”), no-one stays in the business over five decades without being talented and Elkie still has that in abundance. Equally professional is her large, 6 member band with Steve Jones on sax and Melvin Duffy on guitar particularly impressive.

The venue is unique, the location superb, the community supportive. Quite why the concert halls are not full every night of the week is entirely beyond me.
A enjoyable night out. 7/10/DM
June 2011

Win Win

Win Win (15) - 2011 - 106 minutes

Wrestling with a moral dilemma

As his hairline has receded, his waistline has advanced. His eyes are full of sadness, his air unprepossessing. Paul Giamatti makes for an unlikely leading man. But from The Truman Show and Saving Private Ryan to the Cinderella Man (Oscar nomination) and Barney’s Version (second Golden Globe Award), his versatility knows no bounds. Giamatti is currently King of the Indies.

In the latest offering from Director, Thomas McCarthy, Giamatti plays Mike Flaherty, a small town, family lawyer whose ailing practice, demanding family and endless list of chores( perennially blocked toilets and broken-down boilers) are beginning to weigh him down. When told he is out running, his daughter innocently asks "from what" but therein lies his dilemma.

Salvation duly arrives initially through a client, retired Alzheimer sufferer, Leo, touchingly played by Burt Young, (Sly Stallone's brother in the Rocky movies) and subsequently through his 16 year old grandson, Kyle (Alex Shaffer), himself in search of refuge from his drug addicted mother. The family take him in, their initial suspicions soon overcome by Kyle's remarkably open and honest persona and soon he is part of the family even joining the high school wrestling team of which Mike is coach.For a while all goes well, but the return of Kyle’s mother spells disaster for Mike.
Alzheimer's, wrestling (with its strange manoeuvres and complex rules) and a mid-life, male crisis would appear to make the strangest of bedfellows and yet somehow, it works. The humour is terrific from Mike's best friend Terry (Bobby Cannavale), an exuberant but embittered divorce who still spies on his wife to the weakling of the wrestling team who simply runs round the ring to Kyle himself whom Mike hits round the head just before each match starts. Giamatti leads the way, simply superb as a man overwhelmed. Anxious and tired, he is worn to a shred but can still find the time to patiently coach the worst team in the state. Shaffer too is excellent, his relationship with Mike's wife Jackie (beautifully played by Amy Ryan) touching and sweet.

McCarthy – who incidentally co-authored the Oscar winning animation Up - directs with minimal fuss allowing the characters full reign. The moral dilemma is interesting portrayed; however noble his intentions, Mike is clearly guilty and yet only through his wife, and then only briefly, is this dilemma explored. Ultimately however, McCarthy redeems himself through his refusal to countenance a Hollywood ending. Life is grey not white nor black. Life is win, lose and very rarely win, win. Charming and well executed. 7/10.DM.

Jamie Cullum Live at Cheltenham

Jamie Cullum at The Cheltenham Jazz Festival
Screened live to the Greenwich Picturehouse
May 1 2011
The Prince of Jazz Pop on our digital doorstep

We were anxious and concerned. Would our friends enjoy Jamie Cullum in concert streamed live from the Cheltenham Jazz Festival direct to the Greenwich Picturehouse cinema (not to mention 70 odd other cinemas in 6 different countries across the globe)? What about the atmosphere? How would it all work?

We needn't have worried. This charismatic, energetic, 31 year old crossover (jazz-pop) artist from Essex strode on to the stage with a calm sense of assurance well beyond his years. "This is the second time I've been out since the baby" (Cullum is married to former model Sophie Dahl), "so be gentle with me", he implored us, and so began a quite spellbinding evening.

For all his boyish charm and good looks, Cullum has earned his stripes, signing for Universal back in 2003. He opened with an old favourite, "I want to be a Popstar", a playful rumination on the advantages of being a pop star as opposed to a jazz crooner, the perfect vehicle for highlighting a light-hearted approach that has won over audiences both young and old alike.

A self-deprecating personality and some gentle humour soon had the audience warming to him and he moved on to the more serious "Rayleigh Road", a tribute to his Burmese grandparents who struggled to integrate into the Britain of the 50s. Cullum lost himself in this, oblivious to his audience and almost surprised when he had finished.

Playing solo is never easy but he mixed things up well by using his piano as a beat box to obtain some stunning rhythms, by intensive audience participation including 3 concurrent harmonies in a haunting rendition of his old classic, "All at Sea" and by playing one or two apparently hitherto unheard (but surely soon-to-be -released) songs including one about a close friend who refuses to grow up. He closed with a colossal rendition of "Don't stop the music" only to be virtually forced to return with the song of which he is most proud; Gran Torino which he wrote in close collaboration with Clint and Kyle Eastwood for the movie of that name.

While Cullum's musical talent has never been in doubt, his decision to mix jazz standards, American songbook classics and contemporary pop culture was a courageous and bold step that could easily have backfired. His vocal range, innovative arrangements and near-perfect execution somehow ties them all together. Cullum is surely a one-off.

Finally, a word of commendation for the Picturehouse chain whose courage and vision have helped open up a world hitherto closed. Plays, opera and now music have suddenly become accessible and affordable to audiences around the globe. A stunning evening. Roll on the next show. 9/10.

Dick Morgan
May 2011

Fire in Babylon

Fire in Babylon (15) 82 minutes

The West Indian cricket team of 1980- 1995 was undoubtedly the finest of its generation and arguably the greatest in the history of the sport. Ruthless and relentless they batted with power, bowled with venom and fielded with élan. Who can ever forget Gordon Greenidge's undefeated, match-winning double century at Lords or Michael (Whispering Death) Holding's 14 for 149 on a flat wicket at the Oval in 1976?

Fire in Babylon, a rare movie about cricket is the latest in a series of events - including opera, plays and, more recently, concerts- to be screened live, by satellite, directly to the Greenwich Picturehouse. Directed by Stevan Riley and produced by Charles Street and John Battsek, the movie cleverly weaves together interviews with former players, ground staff and local people with archive footage of test matches to relate the tale of the resurgence of West Indian cricket from the late 1970s onwards.

The rebirth of the team has traditionally been attributed to some rather ill- judged, ill-timed and frankly insensitive comments by Tony Greig , the then England captain who, when asked how they might react under pressure, told the interviewer, I” intend to make them grovel". Never can an attempt to get under the opposition's skin have backfired so spectacularly. West Indies won the series 3-0, setting them on a road of almost two decades of cricketing supremacy largely due to a quartet of lightning quick fast bowlers – the four horseman of the apocalypse – (Andy Roberts, Colin Croft, Michael Holding and Joel Garner) and their re-introduction of hostile, short-pitched bowling aimed at the body, not seen since the famous bodyline (England in Australia) series of 1932/1933.

But while Greig's comments undoubtedly played their part, interviews with the players revealed a deeper, darker and more sinister racial motivation. Opener Gordon Greenidge freely admitted to taking his anger at rejection out on the ball hitting with a ferocity hitherto unequalled; Vivien Richards, whose later refusal to tour South Africa (at a personal cost of over USD 1million) earned the personal gratitude of Nelson Mandela himself; and Clive Lloyd, the unassuming captain and natural leader of the group whose quiet demeanour belied a ferocious appetite to win and prove a point. More than thirty years later, their pain is still fresh, their wounds yet to heal, Richards still surprisingly emotional.

Director Riley weaves together his source material with no little skill against a background of music from, perhaps inevitably, Bob Marley and the Wailers and Gregory Issacs and in the process creates a stunning story of true sporting greatness. 9/10. DM

May 2011

13 Assassins

13 Assassins (15) 126 minutes 2011

The return of the samurai
13 highly trained Samurai warriors against an army of 200. Unacceptable odds? Arrogant folly? Or feudal Japan in 1844 where "to value one’s life was to die like a dog". The latest offering from prolific (80 films in two decades) Japanese Director, Takashi Miike, is a notable addition to the Samurai movie library while also a homage to Akira Kurosawa's memorable masterpiece, Seven Samurai, (1954).

Mid 19th century Japan and a time of extended peace. The Samurai have grown lazy, their hegemony at an end. But one final task awaits them - the destruction of the ignoble, disrespectful and psychotic Lord Naritsugu (Goro Inagaki) the Shogun's younger brother, whose taste for slaughter know no bounds.
The ageing but relentlessly-driven Shinzaemon (Koji Yakusjo) begins to gather together and meticulously train a small band of warriors including his dissolute nephew Shinrouko (Takayuki Yamada), the veteran spear thrower, Sahara who demands payment upfront ("to bury my wife and buy luxuries I've never had") and a manic, forest dwelling creature (Yusuke Iseya) with seemingly supernatural powers. Together, they will restore the glory of the Shogun, do their duty to the people and, only if successful, honour themselves and their families.

The film is of two halves; the first, preparation of the deed and attention to detail. “ My logic was shallow”, Shinzaemon elegantly admits to his friend, having overlooked a minor flaw in their plan. The second is the battle, fast furious and technologically spectacular, the bridge blowing scene oddly reminiscent of Sam Peckinpah’s, The Wild Bunch (1969). The balance of the movie veers dramatically from moments of extreme violence – now cattle deliberately set on fire running amok in the town, now a virgin- white kimono splattered pink with fresh, new blood - to scenes of immense beauty and calm - forest cliffs wreathed in early morning mist, the soldiers’ shimmering shiny helmets bobbing endlessly up and down.

The battle scenes - arguably the longest in cinematic history - are an orgy of violence, although surprisingly lacking in gore. The images are memorable – from enormous street-closing traps woven out of trees to the detonation and collapse of an entire house. Underlying the whole is an unparalleled sense of honour; Naritsugu's samurai will support his master to the end whatever his personal beliefs about his latter's horrific lifestyle; Shinzaemon revels in the opportunity of dying a true warrior's death. Miike weaves these complex and disparate threads carefully together towards a stunning and spectacular climax. A truly worthy addition to the genre. 8/10.

Dick Morgan
May 2011


Dick Morgan

Rio

Rio (U) 95 minutes 2011 3D

The latest animated offering from the makers of Ice Age - Blue Sky Studios and Director Carlos Saldanha - is Rio, in colourful 3D. Saldanha transports us from the glacial snowdrifts of Ice Age to the humid jungles of our present; from the destruction of our planet to the conservation of a species; and from a sloth named Sid to a bird named Blu.

The story is pleasant enough and concerns the trials and tribulations of a domesticated macaw, Blu, voiced by Jesse "The Social Network" Eisenberg. Blu, the last male of his species, is reluctantly taken to Rio, in order to mate with Jewel, the last of her kind, (Anne Hathaway). However, exotic bird traffickers lurk around every corner and Blu and Jewel must find a way to freedom past Nigel (Jermaine Clement), a hideous cockatoo and an army of marmosets armed only with the help of a red crested cardinal (Will i am), a yellow canary (Jamie Foxx) and a constantly drooling bulldog, Luiz (Tracy Morgan).

While undoubtedly appealing to younger children, the film fails to satisfy on a number of levels. Firstly, it lacks the depth of its some of its more illustrious, animated predecessors and is thus less accessible to adults; where is the toy constantly ruminating over his future, potential obsolescence (Toy Story); the single father desperately trying (and failing) to cope with his child's disability (Finding Nemo); the monster' existential dilemma, questioning his right to frighten young children (Monster's Inc). Moreover, where is the humour and wit? Subtlety and ambiguity have been almost entirely replaced by slapstick and farce, the whole hidden under a plethora of superfluous characters.

But most importantly, just where are the voices. Perhaps only in animated movies are voices so critical; Tom Hanks simply was Woody the Cowboy (Toy Story); David Schwimmer wonderfully well cast as the hypochondriac giraffe (Madagascar); Billy Crystal born to play a neurotic monster (Monster's Inc). Professional as Eisenberg is - cautious neurosis his trademark - he simply does not do birds, a flaw which frankly undermines the entire movie. Hathaway is better but her role is less demanding in a script that is woefully thin. Director Saldanha oversees an explosion of colour and stream of good songs but given a bar set almost impossibly high by the likes of Toy Story and Nemo, Rio simply fails to meet adult expectations.

Good Easter fare but definitely for the youngsters. 6/10.

Dick Morgan
April 2011

Oranges and Sunshine

Oranges and Sunshine (12A) 104 minutes 2011

Corruption and lies under a scorching sun

Someone is responsible; someone must take the blame; somewhere there must be answers.
The brightly named Oranges and Sunshine is the powerful but sombre account of an appalling and yet generally little-known, social injustice. In 1986, a young social worker from Nottingham, Margaret Humphreys (Emily Watson), accidentally stumbled across a generation of lost children. Shortly after the Second World War, almost 130,000 infants were torn away from their families, told that their parents were dead and systematically deported to Australia. Expecting a life of sunshine and oranges, they were for the most part, physically and emotionally abused by their carers. Humphreys, overwhelmed by the sheer hopeless isolation began the herculean task of trying to re-unite lost families.

Humphreys and her impossibly understanding and sympathetic husband Merv (Richard Dillane) find themselves inexorably dragged deeper and deeper into an bottomless emotional quagmire at the increasing cost of their personal and family life; "I've given you my mother", Margaret's young son laments to one of the victims at an emotionally charged Christmas party. Tired from the travel, emotionally drained by their suffering and blocked at every turn by faceless bureaucrats, Margaret cracks and suffers a breakdown.
Watson is her usual competent self; undemonstrative, restrained and lacking fuss, trying desperately to remain restrained and professional but failing miserably. The scenes with her own family whom she increasingly neglects, particularly poignant. Yet somehow, she fails to engage, lacking emotional depth and not entirely convincing. The victims are more persuasive; Hugo Weaving is sensitive and fragile radiating emptiness and emotionally lost. David Wenham is equally strong; where Weaver is open, Wenham is closed, overly calm and ready to explode; both appalled by yet addicted to the seminary where he was raised.

Jim Loach plays it safe on his directorial debut choosing to duck the movie’s more controversial moments such as responsibility and blame; the bureaucrats escaping with “we did what we thought right”; the seminary brothers responding with silence and frowns. In 2010, some 23 years after Margaret’s initial encounter, the governments of Great Britain and Australia finally acknowledged their respective roles and issued an official apology. Yet to date, no individuals have been identified, questioned or charged and now almost certainly, never will. A generation of children remain lost, isolated and without justice.
A challenging but worthwhile night out. 7/10

Dick Morgan
April 2011

Oranges and sunshinme

Oranges and Sunshine (12A) 104 minutes 2011
Corruption and lies under a scorching sun
Someone is responsible; someone must take the blame; somewhere there must be answers.
The brightly named Oranges and Sunshine is the powerful but sombre account of an appalling and yet generally little-known, social injustice. In 1986, a young social worker from Nottingham, Margaret Humphreys (Emily Watson), accidentally stumbled across a generation of lost children. Shortly after the Second World War, almost 130,000 infants were torn away from their families, told that their parents were dead and systematically deported to Australia. Expecting a life of sunshine and oranges, they were for the most part, physically and emotionally abused by their carers. Humphreys, overwhelmed by the sheer hopeless isolation began the herculean task of trying to re-unite lost families.

Humphreys and her impossibly understanding and sympathetic husband Merv (Richard Dillane) find themselves inexorably dragged deeper and deeper into an bottomless emotional quagmire at the increasing cost of their personal and family life; "I've given you my mother", Margaret's young son laments to one of the victims at an emotionally charged Christmas party. Tired from the travel, emotionally drained by their suffering and blocked at every turn by faceless bureaucrats, Margaret cracks and suffers a breakdown.
Watson is her usual competent self; undemonstrative, restrained and lacking fuss, trying desperately to remain restrained and professional but failing miserably. The scenes with her own family whom she increasingly neglects, particularly poignant. Yet somehow, she fails to engage, lacking emotional depth and not entirely convincing. The victims are more persuasive; Hugo Weaving is sensitive and fragile radiating emptiness and emotionally lost. David Wenham is equally strong; where Weaver is open, Wenham is closed, overly calm and ready to explode; both appalled by yet addicted to the seminary where he was raised.

Jim Loach plays it safe on his directorial debut choosing to duck the movie’s more controversial moments such as responsibility and blame; the bureaucrats escaping with “we did what we thought right”; the seminary brothers responding with silence and frowns. In 2010, some 23 years after Margaret’s initial encounter, the governments of Great Britain and Australia finally acknowledged their respective roles and issued an official apology. Yet to date, no individuals have been identified, questioned or charged and now almost certainly, never will. A generation of children remain lost, isolated and without justice.
A challenging but worthwhile night out. 7/10

Dick Morgan
April 2011