Review: The Paperboy

The Paperboy actually burns, suffocating you as it spirals into a story of violence, racism and dysfunctional, misplaced love.

Charlotte Bless (Nicole Kidman) gets her kicks writing to prisoners on death row. In too-short skirts, she’s pure sex, sliced through with sweetness, and her current beau, Hillary Van Wetter (a wheedling, rank and sweaty John Cusack), is facing the electric chair for a murder he may not have committed.

Jack Jansen (a bronze, muscled Zac Efron), got thrown off the swim team, sent home from college and is stuck missing his mom, idling until his older brother Ward (Matthew McConaughey) comes back from Miami. Scarred, and dragging his fractious writer, Yardley, along with him, Ward’s a reporter set on uncovering the twisted corruptions of Hillary’s tale. Jack drives while smoky-voiced Charlotte sits about fixing her hair, desperate to get her man out of his cell.

It’s dark, funny and disturbing with crocodile infested waters (literally) and saturated colours – it’s the summer 1969 after all, our narrator, the Jansen’s lovingly bossy house maid Anita (played by Macy Gray), tells us. Director Lee Daniels fuses every scene with a sort of sickness. You feel drugged at times, trying to find your way through the tangle of emotions that threatens to overwhelm the characters, and the violence, a lot of which is sexual, is undeniably brutal.

But there is brightness too. The practically unrecognisable Nicole Kidman is an absolute scene stealer, uncomfortably and hilariously so at times (there’s a rather spectacular encounter with a jellyfish), while McConaughey’s Ward, scrabbling for some kind of control, is achingly brilliant.

It’s definitely not for the squeamish, or those who can’t bear the crawling of their skin, but The Paperboy is sharp and lingers unforgettably in your mind like the tang of blood and the dank smell of swamp water.

First published by Who’s Jack magazine

Review: Rust and Bone

Rust and Bone grips at the heart of what it means to fight or fly. Weighed down with adrenaline, anger, huge amounts of pain and tiny slivers of hope, it’s definitely what you call Oscar worthy.

French director Jacques Audiard tells the story of killer whale trainer Stephanie (the beautiful Marion Cotillard) who loses her legs from the knees down in a terrifying freak accident.

After getting smacked in the face (pre-amputation) she meets Ali, (Matthias Schoenaerts) a bouncer turned security guard turned bare knuckle fighter – and dad, though he keeps forgetting that.

As Ali tries to get a job that will stop him from being kicked out of his sister’s ramshackle home, and Stephanie tries to learn to dance from the confines of a wheelchair, they find themselves clinging to each other. First it’s for pragmatic reasons (she needs a set of strong arms to carry her into the ocean; he needs to escape and feel useful), but soon it becomes something else altogether.

Rust and Bone is a very physical film and at times difficult to watch. The CGI on Cotillard’s severed legs is shockingly and fascinatingly realistic while moments between Ali and his 5-year-old son Sam (the fragile but wiry Armand Verdure) are just brutal.

It can be tender but whole scenes are obliterated by sunlight streaming into the camera, while others are overwhelmingly violent: a bloody tooth wrenched out and spinning had the whole audience drag in a breath. This is definitely not a film for the squeamish.

The plot, on paper, is meandering and strange – there’s a bizarre yoghurt related incident and a trip to Strasbourg that throw everything off kilter – but the performances, which are stunning, hold it together.

Ultimately it’s about trying to grow bits of yourself back and trusting others to fill in the gaps you can’t fix yourself. In the end Rust and Bone will hang beautifully and harshly in your memory.

First published by Who’s Jack Magazine.

Review: The Perks Of Being A Wallflower

Logan Lerman shimmers as Charlie, a much too intelligent, much too introspective teen facing his first days at High School. Also, his best friend has just shot himself. Not exactly the best combination for anyone facing the jock-heavy world of American teen hell.

And then the only friend he does make is his English teacher, Mr Anderson (a very dapper looking Paul Rudd), who starts plying him with all the classics from To Kill A Mockingbird to On The Road.

But, determined to ‘participate’ and carve a nook of his own in a world of pushy freshmen and essays, Charlie grabs some nachos, sits tentatively down next to Patrick (Ezra Miller) at a ball game, and life kicks in.

Emma Watson successfully sheds her Hermione roots as damaged but beautiful Sam, while Miller and his razor sharp cheek bones steal almost every scene as the tortured, charismatic Patrick. They tumble along vibrantly with a gothic Buddhist, a jean-based kleptomaniac and a harmless druggy with a penchant for bubbles, twirling through Rocky Horror Picture Show performances (see Lerman in very tiny gold pants and Miller in equally skimpy suspenders) – a collection of misfits spiralling in and out of control.

The soundtrack is amazing and littered with The Smiths; it is music you blare as loud as you can through the speakers of your first (preferably beat up) car while eating chips and daydreaming about your first love.

It’s not all your usual adolescent drama though. The plot darkens: Charlie starts blacking out, eating questionable brownies, juddering along with bruised knuckles and a worrisome soul, with a raft of memories threatening to capsize him.

For fans of the novel, the author Stephen Chbosky luckily wrote the screenplay and directed the film, so the sweet, angsty heart of the story hasn’t been lost. It’s just been catapulted into Technicolor. The mix tape songs that wind through the book pour from the screen instead.

It makes you want to dance and whoop like there is nothing and nobody else in the world, cling to the back of a truck and speed through a tunnel, or just be 16 again.

First published by Who’s Jack Magazine.

Review: Now is Good

Now is Good

If you want your heart broken between sobbing your tear ducts dry and flurries of laughter, Now is Good is perfect viewing.

Dakota Fanning plays Tessa, a 17-year-old Brighton-ite dying from a form of leukaemia, who is desperate to lose her virginity, break the law and have her name written on the world. Writer and director Ol Parker’s script tracks her last months as she tumbles through her bucket list, making things up and worrying everyone as she goes along.

Olivia Williams takes an inspired turn as Tessa’s rather useless but charming mother and also nabs most of the best lines (“I know the smell of rubber is off-putting, but so is gonorreah,”) while Paddy Considine roams the film as Tessa’s overprotective and agonised father. You are advised to pack a family-sized box of tissues for his scenes alone.

But, as Tessa so bluntly puts it, her parents are not what she needs, so in swoop Zoey (Kaya Scodelario), Tessa’s shroom and shoplifting partner in crime and Adam, a pained looking Jeremy Irvine riding a sunset friendly motorbike.

The realities of dying from leukaemia – the hospital appointments, the exhaustion, the hurt and the inevitability – slink alongside the whirlwind of first love and the trials of trying to live life to the fullest.

A blur of salty beach trips and climbing escapades (up trees, through windows, over cliffs) pull Tessa and Adam together, showing off the melancholy beauty of Brighton in the process. The rickety, candy rock laden pier becomes almost as vital as the ethereal Dakota, complete with her fairly convincing English accent.

Bittersweet but funny with it (particularly thanks to Tessa’s adorably pragmatic little brother: “You can haunt me, I don’t mind”), Now is Good will yank on your heart strings but avoids being too saccharine and depressing. In fact, it is quite hopeful.

First published by Who’s Jack magazine.

P.S. I saw this at the Cambridge Arts Picturehouse as part of the Cambridge Film Festival. My favourite cinema ever (although the Brixton Ritzy does give it a run for its money), think plush velvet seats and glasses of wine, Jeremy Irvine and producer Peter Czernin even stopped by for a Q&A after the screening. Film bliss.

Review: Take This Waltz

Take This Waltz

Director Sarah Pulley might as well have slapped a “Hot – do not touch!” sign on every shot of Take This Waltz.

Doused in sweltering oranges, reds, yellows and the odd flash of azure blue, it seems intent on burning out your eyes with super-saturated Technicolor.

Michelle Williams plays restless wannabe writer Margot, struggling to fill the gaps in her life with Lou (Seth Rogen), her smitten husband and chicken cook book extraordinaire. The pair dance around each other, stirring pots and pans of bubbling stews in a vibrantly ramshackle house that is sweating with stock, heat and claustrophobic love.

And then in strolls their new neighbour, rickshaw towing Daniel (Luke Kirby), who, with a frank stare and a set of very strong arms, completes a rather sticky love triangle.

Every scene is beautiful. From the baking streets of Toronto’s Little Portugal where it’s filmed, to the indoor fairground ride drenched in glitter where Margot and Daniel find themselves sliding dangerously and illicitly toward each other. And yet, it is strangely unsatisfying.

Perhaps it is the film’s preoccupation with a fear of being in between things – you end up feeling slightly torn as well. While Williams is flawless, whirling from one emotion to another, her character makes and breaks decisions; it’s touching but also infuriating. Daniel asks: “What is wrong with you?” and you can’t help but want to scream it too. Or at least reach out and give her a good shake.

Sarah Silverman cameos as a straight talking, lovable alcoholic who adds bite, and some moments have you giggling as uncontrollably as Margot (namely a swimming pool scene involving a sunburnt aqua aerobics teacher and a weak bladder), but by the end you are left hot, bothered and a little weary – particularly at the thought of marriage.

First published by Who’s Jack Magazine.

Review: Moonrise Kingdom

This film is for anyone who packed their lunch box with essentials (aged 12) and took off, only got as far as the end of the street and either got caught, or toddled back, wishing they weren’t afraid of the dark and/or had packed a penknife.

This is the adventure you dream you’d been brave enough to have, and then some.

Set on an island off New England in the 1960s, director Wes Anderson (The Royal Tenenbaums, Fantastic Mr. Fox) weaves the tale of romantic pen friends Suzy (AKA problem child) and Sam (AKA orphan and khaki scout) who run away together, towing several suitcases filled with stolen library books, a borrowed record player and every bit of camping equipment known to man. Including a very important pair of binoculars.

Before long the awkward pair (Kara Hayward and Jared Gilman) are being tracked down by Sam’s not-too friendly ex-khaki scout colleagues and their dog, led by Scout Master Ward (Ed Norton in a very fetching pair of beige socks) and Suzy’s parents; a stressed out Francis McDormand and Bill Murray wearing retro clown trousers and giving way to violent, shoe related tendencies. Not to mention island law enforcer, Captain Sharp (a sad eyed, perpetually smoking Bruce Willis). And then, all at once, it’s a race to escape a blue-caped Social Services (Tilda Swinton) too.

Shot in staccato bursts, it has that classic Wes Anderson quality, as if one side on the box of another much quirkier world has been lopped off and suddenly you’re peering into an orange and yellow tinted doll’s house. Swirling with second-chances, care-free moments and dark humour, Moonrise Kingdom doesn’t have you trying to make sense of the brilliant nonsense of it all, but wanting to climb in and dance on the beach in your underwear too.

First published by Who’s Jack Magazine.

Review: Wrath of the Titans

With regards to a review of Wrath of the Titans all I can say is, don’t trust the trailer. What in the minute and a half version is a mash of spinning action scenes, epic emotional pauses and loaded grips on godly weapons – not to mention blood spattered smoulders from Rosamund Pike (Queen Andromeda) – is, in full, a dizzying wreck of a Hollywood blockbuster.

Wrath of the Titans should be spectacular. A wizened Liam Neeson as an Obi-Wan Kenobi-fied Zeus (oh, that beard) must persuade son Perseus (Sam Worthington) to give up his simple life as a fisherman and embrace his dual birthright as both human and god once again. The plan? To rail against Kronus, an enemy eaten up by fury and volcanic rock, and battle to save the universe.

Bill Nighy turns up with a questionable accent but a mind filled with the intricate architectural plans of the underworld, where Kronus is intent on sucking up the remaining power of the last gods. Perseus, alongside comedy sidekick Agenor (sadly not all that comic) and Andromeda – Pike looks annoying pretty despite the sweat and grime – must navigate the labyrinth and rescue humanity from the clutches of a fiery death.

Wrath of the Titans is all in all a bit rambling, but there’s no doubt scope for some heartfelt moments and incredible visuals. Even with Ralph Fiennes as a vengeful Hades the film still pitches so awkwardly between limp emotional moments and spiralling battles that kick up enough dust, ash and broken rock to have you choking behind your 3D glasses, not knowing who’s fighting who, that you find yourself wondering, are they ever going to stop and have a drink?

There are gaping holes where a bit more attention to betrayal, sacrifice and plucky human courage could have racked up the film’s depth, but, if you’re a glutton for all consuming action and Sam Worthington looking rather rugged, Wrath of the Titans is a bit of a winner.

First published by Who’s Jack Magazine. Also, can I just note that this review would have been even more scathing had Liam Neeson and Sam Worthington appeared to indroduce it!