A sidequel rather than a direct sequel, The Bourne Legacy succeeds in giving the kiss of life to a franchise that had a Do Not Resuscitate sign hanging over it. The series seemingly came to a natural conclusion with Matt Damon’s Jason Bourne finally discovering who he was and how he came to be fished out of the sea with no memory three years earlier. But there was a problem: that concluding chapter, The Bourne Ultimatum, made enormous piles of cash for studio Universal. Their franchise was still lucrative but had run out of narrative gas. Enter “series architect” Tony Gilroy, who has gone and greatly fleshed out the backstory behind the Treadstone program that created Bourne in order to allow for another agent to go on the run from a different set of people. What’s surprising is that The Bourne Legacy turns out to be a respectable thriller in its own right.
It’s a big year for fans of Alfred Hitchcock. The BFI’s The Genius of Hitchcock celebration is now in full swing, with the director’s surviving silent films having been fully restored and a complete retrospective taking place at the BFI Southbank. This year’s Cambridge Film Festival will also feature a Hitchcock strand, including his classic thriller Vertigo which recently ousted long-time champion Citizen Kane from the top spot in Sight & Sound’s decennial poll of the greatest films ever made, as decided by critics and key industry personnel.
It’s little wonder that Hitchcock continues to be feted over thirty years after his death. His ability to weave suspense, humour, artistry and cinematic innovation in to his films was uncanny, and means they are as richly entertaining as ever they were. The man has taken on an almost mythical status; partly his own doing (ever the showman, he put his instantly recognisable silhouette and slow, sonorous voice to good use) but also due to his extraordinary longevity. In a career spanning over fifty years, he churned out certified classics in every decade from the Roaring Twenties through to the Swinging Sixties, from his early days in the British film industry to his later years as Hollywood royalty.
Everyone has their favourite Hitchcock, but in order to avoid choosing a single film I thought I would instead list a few that I have long cherished, and which only seem to get better with age. I managed to catch them all while I was still fairly young – teens, anyway – with the exception of one (detailed below). Oddly, there are two films each from the 1930s, 50s and 60s, but none from the 1940s. Nothing against that decade – I love the likes of Lifeboat and Rebecca – but for some reason I didn’t catch up with them until relatively recently and so they haven’t had quite the same effect on me. Anyway, on with that list:
1. The 39 Steps (1935)
This was something of a wake-up call for me. I forget exactly when I first saw it, but it was one of the first films to make me realise that old didn’t necessarily mean outdated. I distinctly recall being pleasantly surprised by its innocent-man-on-the-run thrills (the term Hitchcockian begins in earnest here) and witty dialogue – laughing with it rather than at it. The line “Oh look, it’s a whole flock of detectives” as a police car’s route is blocked by sheep never fails to make me laugh out loud. Robert Donat as the urbane Hannay and Madeleine Carroll as the blonde he becomes attached to (in more ways than one) make for a feisty and droll onscreen couple. The hissing/crackly soundtrack notwithstanding, it holds up superbly today. Just go and see the stage version in the London West End for proof: it’s basically a facsimile, with the audience laughing at the exact same jokes.
2. The Lady Vanishes (1938)
One of the last films Hitch made in Britain before skipping across the Atlantic, this is another delicious suspenser with a generous helping of humour (in the style of The 39 Steps) with another great lead couple: Michael Redgrave and Margaret Lockwood. This time though, it’s the girl who takes the lead in trying to solve the mystery. I didn’t catch this one until a few years ago but it went straight on to my list of favourite Hitchcocks, not only because it’s such a richly enjoyable espionage yarn (set in central Europe with the shadow of war looming, leading to a tense and action-packed conclusion) but also because of the strong supporting cast, led by Basil Radford and Naunton Wayne as a pair of quintessentially English bachelors desperately trying to find out the cricket test score back home. Their delightful double act clearly went down well with audiences of the time because they reprised their roles in several later films (starting with Night Train to Munich, making The Lady Vanishes the first Hitchcock film to be sequelised).
3. Rear Window (1954)
Made when the director was at the peak of his powers, Rear Window continues to dazzle with every viewing. From the ingenious plot (wheelchair-bound photographer witnesses a murder from his window) to the atmospheric studio-built set to the greatest of his star pairings in James Stewart and the impossibly beautiful Grace Kelly, this is a film that sucks you in like no other. The way Hitchcock teases us in to enjoying the thrill of the voyeur is pure subversive magic; the lives of Stewart’s neighbours become as intriguing to us as the main storyline. THAT kiss between Kelly and Stewart was the abiding memory from my very first viewing; it has never been bettered. If, for some crazy reason, you haven’t yet seen it then watch it as soon as humanly possible. You won’t regret it. Dare I say, it might even be better than Vertigo.
4. North by Northwest (1959)
There might be less going on at the heart of North by Northwest than some of his other great works, but as an exercise in suspenseful spectacle and bravado, it’s unbeatable. Hitchcock recycles his beloved innocent-man-on-the-run story once again, but this time gives it the full epic treatment. Superb set-pieces tumble one after another: the murder in the United Nations building in New York, the climactic chase across Mount Rushmore, and of course the exquisite crop duster sequence – suave Cary Grant running away from a murderous agricultural aircraft has become one of cinema’s defining images. Immediately after seeing this on the big screen at university, I ran back home pretending to be chased by a plane (no, really). James Mason and Martin Landau add ice-cold charm as the villains of the piece, and beautiful Eva Marie Saint ably supplies the romantic interest. Never mind that the plot barely stands up to scrutiny; this is the great man having enormous fun with his most expensive toys. As an entry point for a first time Hitchcock viewer, it’s perfect. What’s not to enjoy?
5. Psycho (1960)
A stone-cold classic that spawned sequels, copycats and even its own sub-genre – the slasher movie. Made on a modest budget using the crew from his TV show, Hitchcock once again proved his ability to reinvent himself, switching effortlessly from the shiny spectacle of North by Northwest to the lurid pulp fiction of Psycho. Its notoriety – especially the shower scene – meant that I knew what was coming the first time I saw it (like most other people, I suspect), but its gothic horror still made a striking impression. For contemporary audiences it was shocking, not only for its seemingly graphic violence but also its sordid characters and storyline. Psycho‘s horrors are inevitably somewhat tamer now, particularly after the twists have been revealed. But what remains is a taut, oppressive, precision-engineered thriller, with Anthony Perkins superb as the mixed-up Norman Bates. And Hitch’s ability to lead the audience up the garden path never fails to impress – you hope Janet Leigh makes it out of Bates Motel alive every time you watch.
6. The Birds (1963)
The chief memory from your first viewing of Hitch’s other great horror will almost certainly have been that bit with the climbing frame. It works every time. Every time. My own initial viewing sticks in the memory because the video recorder failed to tape the last 30 seconds or so. Not that I knew this; I thought there must have been at least another five minutes to go. But no: borrowing a copy from a friend, I confirmed that the film just abruptly stops. I read somewhere that Hitch wanted it to end suddenly so as to leave the audience unsettled when they left the theatre. One can only assume he was successful in this. Even without that ending, The Birds remains an unnerving experience. Its ability to disturb has allowed the film in some ways to age better than Psycho; the monster here isn’t a certifiable loon but something seemingly far more benign. A world where nature turns on us is a far more potent fear today, with climate change apparently continuing apace, than it ever was in the director’s lifetime.
There’s been some talk lately about whether Pixar’s creative juices have begun to dry up. After 2010’s Toy Story 3 and last year’s Cars 2, and with prequel Monsters University due next year, there’s certainly mounting evidence for the prosecution. But then along comes Brave, which takes aim at such idle chatter and valiantly quashes it (for now at least). On the surface this is the latest in a long line of Disney fairy-tale movies: young Princess Merida has no wish to follow the path of domestic wedded bliss laid down for her by her mother, wanting instead to remain free to roam her beloved country and choose her own future. But after an encounter with a witch and a hasty wish that goes awry, she is forced to reconsider her life and learns to accept responsibility for herself. It could almost be Disney’s Aladdin transposed to medieval Scotland and told from the perspective of Princess Jasmine.
But it’s worth remembering that this is Pixar, not Disney, and small things make all the difference. If this were Disney then the twee view of historical Scotland would likely be turned up to 11. The epic mountainous scenery is certainly present and correct, from lochs at sunset to mist-shrouded forests; Pixar’s customary attention to detail combined with a slightly exaggerated sense of reality resulting in one of the most gorgeous films of the year.
Directors Mark Andrews and Brenda Chapman also embrace the traditional Hollywood stereotype of the Highland clansmen as loud-mouthed drunken braggarts who would just as soon lop your head off as look at you; but it’s wrapped up in a good-natured cartooniness that appropriately recalls the humour of René Goscinny and Albert Uderzo’s Asterix comic books. There’s even a hint of sauciness with the Queen’s bosomy handmaid – it’s not exactly Carry On Up The Kilt, but for a Disney-funded animation it at least nods in the direction of the unusual (if only Kenneth Williams could have voiced the magical will-o’-the-wisps that guide Merida on her quest).
Family relationships are what drive Pixar’s pictures – The Incredibles or Finding Nemo being obvious examples, or even Carl and Ellie in Up – and it’s the rupture between mother and daughter that provides the emotional core of Brave. The pace picks up in the second half as Merida tries to save her mum from the curse that she inflicted on her, and inevitably learns some hard lessons about life along the way. It may be the old ‘teen rebelling against their parents’ routine, but it works rather nicely. The darker side of the Scottish wilds also come to the fore, rewarding patience with greater atmosphere and a race against time, while the eleventh hour introduction of a villainous prince adds impetus and drama to the exciting denouement, even if he is entirely superfluous to the plot.
Unquestionably this is slighter stuff than we’re used to from those Pixar wizards; it lacks the storytelling power and emotional resonance of its greatest triumphs. But Brave‘s visual panache and robust humour still provide sufficient pleasures to make it worthy of the ‘P’ name.
Q. When is an Adam Sandler film not an Adam Sandler film?
A. When it stars Seth MacFarlane instead of Adam Sandler.
Really, if you want to know whether you’ll enjoy Ted, the hilarious new comedy about a hilarious talking teddy bear who hilariously swears, berates everyone around him and gets hilariously high with hookers, then just ask yourself whether you find Adam Sandler’s particular brand of comedy amusing. If the answer to that is Yes, then a) you’re very welcome to him, and b) you’ll definitely enjoy Ted.
Ted is simply a slight variation on every Adam Sandler “comedy” ever made. A thirty-something man-child slacker (Mark Wahlberg) lazes through life doing drugs with his best friend while his sexy and impossibly tolerant girlfriend (Mila Kunis) tries to get him to grow up and make something of himself. In an Adam Sandler movie, the best friend might be played by Rob Scheider or Kevin James or Chris Rock. Here though, in an ingenious marketing move, he’s played by a magical talking teddy bear (voiced by writer/producer/director MacFarlane). Sandler must be kicking himself, in-between bouts of laughing in that really annoying voice at his stupendously-sized bank balance.
The two key ingredients for any Sandler comedy are a liberal helping of offensive and/or gross-out gags, and a thick dollop of schmaltz to try and win the audience’s sympathy while deflecting any criticism about the film’s liability to offend. Ted has both of these in equal measure. Taking pot shots at targets like ethnic minorities or 9/11 is always a dicey proposition: it’s a fine line between teasing out the humour of any real-world situation and just pointing the finger and laughing at somebody else’s expense. Ted takes the easy option, lazily stereotyping and offending anyone it fancies (Indians, Muslims, Iranians, Chinese, Parkinson’s sufferers… it’s a long list) and just assumes this in itself is funny. Sorry old chap, but more often than not it isn’t. I don’t think of myself as a prude, and fair play to anyone involved here willing to send themselves up, but 90% of the alleged jokes just aren’t funny. Judging by the audience’s extended bouts of silence in the screening I attended, it wasn’t just me who thought so.
Then, to make matters worse, the gooey schmaltz is applied to try and make us care about Wahlberg’s doofus while turning the film in to a sort of subversive fairy tale. Narrator Patrick Stewart (who vocally doesn’t come across as a natural comedian) tells us the bear came alive one Christmas night when a very young and lonely Wahlberg wished upon a star. Good grief. At first it appears the film is knowingly winking at the audience, but after a while it dawns on you that, no, it really is trying to tug at the heartstrings (especially towards the end). All of which leads you to suspect that the ultimate butt of the joke is anyone who pays to go and see Ted. Was it made as a bet between MacFarlane and Sandler as to who could hoodwink cinema audiences the most?
To be fair, it’s not entirely mirthless: as a fan of the 1980 Flash Gordon movie, it was difficult to suppress a smile when its star Sam Jones turned up during numerous homages to that cult classic (especially the ‘Flash-jump’). Even here though, Ted simply mimics Sandler by getting a celebrity to cameo and be the butt of many a pop culture joke (hey, it avoids all that bother of actually having to write a decent script). CGI Ted does give a sporadically amusing performance however, unlike Wahlberg, who I have never found to be a particularly engaging presence, and who delivers his usual blank-eyed thing.
It might be that I’ve completely misread the film and it is in fact an extended hallucinatory trip into Lynchian territory experienced by Wahlberg’s stoner. But I doubt it.
Predictably, much of the attention surrounding Magic Mike has focussed on the amount of bare male flesh on display. Partly this is because Hollywood is notorious for cheerfully throwing female nudity up on the screen without batting an eyelid, while remaining remarkably reticent to do the same for the opposite sex. Even here, in a film about male strippers, a girl goes topless in the first five minutes while the men’s modesty more or less remains intact (though you may think you see more than you actually do).
But those hoping for The Full Monty 2 will go away disappointed. This is actually a low-key and quietly absorbing drama about stripper Mike (Channing Tatum) who introduces a wet-behind-the-ears newcomer (Alex Pettyfer) to the trade even as he starts to fall in love with the lad’s sister (Olivia Munn). Mike has turned 30 and is trying to get his custom furniture business off the ground as an alternative to the strip club, though he’s still happy to take the easy money and equally easy women that come his way from the main job.
The story – exposing the rather seedy underbelly of an “entertainment” industry, and Mike’s increasing disillusionment with it – we’ve seen many times before, but as with previous films like Erin Brockovich and Out of Sight, director Steven Soderbergh has taken conventional material and elevated it to the level of high art with his stylish visual approach and a clutch of strong performances.
Soderbergh opts to shoot in a sort of semi-documentary style, with the occasionally mumbled dialogue sounding semi-improvised at times. The cinematography – colourful and bright at night, hazy and washed out in the daytime – appropriately evokes the nocturnal existence of the strippers.
It’s the behind-the-scenes stuff that is most engaging – the footage of the men shaving their legs or stitching their thongs back together. The juxtaposition of these beefy muscular guys actually being quite feminine backstage is gently funny and rather touching.
It’s not perfect: the story does sag noticeably around the halfway point, and there’s a distinct lack of drama as the film meanders towards its conclusion, but the characters are sympathetic enough to carry us through to the end.
Oh, and the Oscar campaign for Best Supporting Actor for Matthew McConaughey starts here – he sends himself up brilliantly.
Christopher Nolan winds up his Dark Knight trilogy with this highly entertaining action epic, told with energy and spectacle. Though it may fall some way short of its predecessors (Batman Begins and The Dark Knight), it is nevertheless a satisfying ending to Nolan’s reinvention of the Batman franchise, rescuing it from the scrapheap after 1997’s Batman & Robin and rebuilding it in to what will surely be remembered as a high-water mark for the superhero genre.
The ambition and intelligence with which the director (along with his screenwriter brother Jonathan and David S. Goyer) infuses the caped crusader is a truly remarkable achievement. Raising a number of political and ethical issues within what is ostensibly a comic-book movie (including references to failed states and the Occupy Wall Street movement) and fashioning them in to a cohesive and genuinely exciting whole is little short of a miracle. The high calibre cast add yet further depth: regulars Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Gary Oldman and Morgan Freeman are all reliable as ever, while among the newcomers Anne Hathaway makes for a suitably slinky Catwoman (never called by that name) and Tom Hardy is formidable as Bane; though unsurprisingly no-one is able to match the late Heath Ledger’s electric turn as the Joker.
Despite all this however, TDKR is for me the least personal of Nolan’s film to date, and the least effective. There is a niggling sense throughout that the director just wasn’t as engaged here as he was with the previous entries. Perhaps he had said all he wanted to say about Batman with the first two films, but felt compelled to repay the trust shown in him by the studio.
It’s the small things that give it away. The flow of the film is choppier here than before: what you might expect to be crucial turning points in the storyline are given short shrift, while the uncharacteristically contrived plot drags a little in the middle, and stretches credibility a little too far at times – something that’s not been a problem in the past. The sound mix is also problematic; dialogue (usually Bane’s, but sometimes Bruce Wayne’s too) is often inaudible or drowned out by Hans Zimmer’s score.
I wasn’t entirely convinced by the characterisation of Bruce Wayne here either – his becoming a recluse for so many years doesn’t seem consistent with the man he became over the course of the earlier films.
Yet Nolan is clearly a consummate professional and doesn’t do films by halves. The opening hijack sequence is more than worthy of a Bond film (something that Nolan would surely excel at), while the breathless final act brings the film together in a much smoother and genuinely exciting way, with the closing scenes especially crowd-pleasing.
In a way, you might call this Christopher Nolan’s own The Good, The Bad and The Ugly: a more expansive (and more expensive) treatment of themes explored in the preceding entries. Though the analogy doesn’t withstand scrutiny because if Batman were the Good and Bane the Bad, then Catwoman would have to be Ugly – something that is self-evidently not the case.
So where next? A reboot is probably in order now – seeing a Batman film that isn’t embarrassed to call Catwoman by her name would be refreshing – but to be honest, I would love to see where a direct sequel takes the series. Plenty of tantalising possibilities…
In the week that trilogy-capper The Dark Knight Rises is released, I thought it might be fun to look back at some past threequels which not only failed to meet the high standard achieved by their forebears, but did so by a wide margin. Not that I think Christopher Nolan has delivered a turkey to your nearest cinema – that seems almost inconceivable at this point – but it might help to deflate a little of the hype and expectation in which Rises is lavishly smothered.
There are LOADS of crappy Part IIIs of course, but I’m only looking at those that followed a strong original and a decent (or even great) part two; the second sequel thus ruining any legitimate chance of the trilogy being acclaimed as a whole. So films like Return of the Jedi, which are relatively inferior to their predecessors but still perfectly respectable entertainment, are disqualified.
TDKR follows Batman Begins and The Dark Knight, both very fine films in their own right. But will they go on to become an acclaimed trilogy? Early reviews suggest Yes, but I won’t find out until later today. (Oh, and who else thinks it’s a shame Batman Begins has Batman in the title? It would be much more fitting if all three had gone with the Dark Knight moniker. Could Nolan pull a ‘Lucas’ and retroactively change the title to The Dark Knight Begins? Too similar to The Dark Knight Rises, maybe. Can Batman both Begin and also Rise as well? What does he do in the middle chapter then? Just exist? So Part II should be re-titled The Dark Knight Is. Or maybe The Dark Knight Descends. Or how about The Dark Knight Emerges? Oh alright, I give up.)
Anyway, back to those dodgy threequels…
1. The Godfather Part III (1990)
Where else can one start but here? The Godfather and its immediate follow-up were models of intricate plotting and superlative performances masterfully woven together by their director. But Part III frequently succumbs to flabby plotting and occasional stretches of dullness, interspersed with a masterclass in How Not To Act from Sofia Coppola. It’s not a complete loss – Al Pacino and Andy Garcia are on great form – but it’s a long way off the first two. Mind you, so is pretty much everything else.
2. The Final Conflict (1981)
The Omen and its sequel Damien: Omen II are both very enjoyable horror romps. The original stands up remarkably well today thanks to Richard Donner’s pitch-perfect direction and its fantastic cast, while Part II amusingly ups the ‘accidental’ deaths and gore. But Part III fumbles the ball badly. The series’ trademark set-pieces are very ho-hum compared to what’s come before, while the plot (concerning the End of Days) is a load of old twaddle. It’s a disappointingly tame end to what was otherwise a memorable franchise, though on the plus side Sam Neill is brilliant, and it’s still better than the made-for-TV Part IV and the pointless 2006 remake.
3. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor (2008)
Look, no-one’s suggesting Stephen Sommers’ horror-adventure pastiches are misunderstood classics. But I’m on record as being a bit of a fan of his 1999 Mummy remake, with its old-fashioned heroics and swoony star pairing of Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz. The first sequel, 2001’s The Mummy Returns, lost some of the original’s charm in the onslaught of special effects, but kept enough of what worked to make it a fun ride. Sadly, Rob Cohen’s belated Part III has absolutely no charm whatsoever. Weisz bailed, and replacement Maria Bello couldn’t replicate the chemistry she shared with Fraser, who looks as if he was just waiting for his cheque to clear. And let’s not even get started on those Yetis.
4. Shrek the Third (2007)
A catastrophic drop-off in quality occurred somewhere along the way between Shrek 2 and 3. The first two films are great fun. This third entry was a complete snoozer. It was followed by Shrek Forever After, which was only marginally less snoozy. Perhaps the novelty had worn off by the time Part III emerged, but I think the problem is simpler than that: an unfunny script that can’t find anything new to do with its characters. If you really want a Shrek trilogy, bundle parts I and II together with last year’s spin-off Puss in Boots, which was actually quite fun.
5. Spider-Man 3 (2007)
X-Men: The Last Stand (2006)
Blade: Trinity (2004)
Batman Forever (1995)
Superman III (1983)
Finally, here’s a few comic-book franchises that slipped up on their way to trilogy status – take your pick. Evidently there is a long-standing tradition for superhero threequels to shoot wide of the mark. I would argue that none of them are especially terrible (well, alright, maybe Blade 3); in fact they are quite enjoyable in parts. But all pale significantly in comparison with their respective parts I and II. Sometimes a change of director is to blame (a Bryan Singer-directed X-Men 3 would almost certainly have been a far better sequel than the bland Brett Ratner one we ended up getting), but in the case of Spidey 3 and Supes 3 the fault lies with pressure from the studio/producers who wanted the film to be made in a certain way, and the end result just doesn’t quite come together. On this evidence, it’s a brave man who takes on the challenge of making the third film in a superhero saga; but in Nolan we trust.
Over the last month I’ve had a lot of fun watching the all-too-brief Made in Britain season, which saw a bunch of homegrown film gems get a big screen outing across the country. The pleasingly eclectic choices saw comedy happily rub shoulders with sci-fi and horror – genres too often overlooked when it comes to handing out cinema re-releases. It was a very real joy to experience these films in their proper habitat. The only downside was the occasional sniggering from some audience members who failed to grasp the concept that acting styles and production values change and evolve over the years.
I propose that StudioCanal make this an annual month-long event. Not only would it be a perfect showcase for their back catalogue, it would continue to raise public awareness about the rich legacy of British cinema and provide support for those who continue to keep its flame alive. There are after all plenty of other neglected gems that deserve a cinematic airing. More Ealing and Hammer classics of course, and I think we can all agree that Flash Gordon deserves the restoration and re-release treatment.
Anyway, thanks to Take One I was able to view and review them all, and (as much for my benefit as yours) here are links to the complete set:
A jewel in the crown of British science-fiction, QUATERMASS AND THE PIT remains as taut and enthralling today as it was when first released over 40 years ago. Hammer’s third and final adaptation of the classic BBC TV series from genre mastermind Nigel Kneale deals with themes not too dissimilar from those of 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, released only a few months later, as well as this year’s considerably more expensive PROMETHEUS: speculating on the origins of human civilization, and how an alien race might have played a key role in our evolution. Kneale knew how to tell epic stories in a contemporary, down-to-earth way, making them not only credible but also financially feasible. This naturally made them appealing to low-budget studios like Hammer, whose earlier Quatermass movies – THE QUATERMASS EXPERIMENT and QUATERMASS 2 – had been instrumental in establishing its reputation as the home of horror.
A choice of two reviews of the new Spidey flick what I wrote:
Leaving aside the question of whether it’s too soon to reboot a film series that only began a decade ago, Marc Webb’s take on Marvel’s web-slinging superhero is proof that there is always room for another perspective on a character which has stood the test of time…
The decision to go back to Spider-Man’s roots certainly makes narrative as well as business sense: more story opportunities about a young Peter Parker coming to terms with his new-found powers, while also allowing the studio to go after the same romantic fantasy audience that delivered gargantuan box-office returns for TWILIGHT and THE HUNGER GAMES…
