Drive (2011) Review

Directed by uncompromising Danish auteur Nicolas Winding Refn, Drive is the best of several “art” films to achieve mainstream status in the past few years. Looking set to become a cult classic, Drive is already developing a strong following. So what’s all the fuss about?

In a somewhat formulaic plot, Ryan Gosling plays an unnamed protagonist, working as a Hollywood stuntman by day whilst moonlighting as a getaway driver. A loner, Gosling harbours a secret love for neighbour Irene (Carey Mulligan), whose husband is being hassled by the mob. To protect Irene, Gosling – against his better judgement - offers to help her husband. Naturally not everything goes to plan…

It should be noted that Drive simply has to be watched on Blu-ray. Never has L.A looked so slick. The helicopter shots of the neon drenched cityscape are stunning. Sun soaked Los Angeles is brought to life in a way never seen before. This is pulp movie making at its absolute finest.

Without doubt, this is Goslings film, from start to finish. His is a minimalist performance of subtle brilliance. Not since Alan Ladd’s Shane have we seen a hero this coolly stoic. Calm, composed and utterly ruthless, this is Gosling’s best performance since his stunning breakthrough in Half Nelson. Dialogue is minimal, but Gosling’s portrayal stems mainly from a stolen glance, wry smile, or the occasional flexing of a leather glove. Those familiar with Clint Eastwood roles of old will be in familiar territory here. Gosling also sports a certain jacket which, believe me, will you have you scouring the internet in search of a replica as soon as the credits start to roll.

Carey Mulligan doesn’t have a great deal to work with, but as ever delivers a memorable performance as Irene– even if she is relegated to the lowly role of love interest. Breaking Bad star Bryan Cranston is perfect as Goslings good hearted, criminal employer. Ron Perlman is, as always, mesmerising. The real surprise performance of Drive is that of former funny man Albert Brooks, who positively delights in playing bad-to-the-bone villain Bernie Rose. Brooks simply oozes malice, and perfectly counteracts Gosling’s driver in every way imaginable. From the outset, it is clear that these two men are destined for a violent confrontation.

Violence is not something Drive shies away from. Anyone familiar with Winding Refn’s previous work will be aware that the director delights in satisfying our morbid fascination with the macabre. In Drives relatively short 100 minute runtime; we witness stabbings, car crashes, artery severances, eye gouging, drowning, beatings and shootings. Oh, and Gosling puts his boot to good use in an already infamous elevator scene, reminiscent of Gaspar Noe’s Irreversible. Maybe not one for the faint hearted then…

Drive implements the most ludicrously infectious soundtrack of the year. Comprised entirely of heavily synthesised, 80’s influenced Euro-pop, the results are spectacular. When the super stylised visuals are infused with this peculiar brand of pulsating synth pop, Drive simply excels. This is how movies should be made.

Imagine the original 1980’s Miami Vice, directed by William Friedkin and absolutely drenched in neo-noir retro styling. Delicately treading the line between action and art, Refn has created something wholly original. Some might argue that Drive is a classic case of style over substance, but when it looks this good – who cares?

The Shining (1980) Review

The Shining, along with The Exorcist, is amongst the most revered of all horror films. And while the latter may have lost just a sliver of its original impact over the past three decades, The Shining remains as powerful as ever.

Released in 1980 and directed by the late, great Stanley Kubrick, The Shining stands as testament to what the horror genre is capable of. Originally an adaption of a Steven King novel, Kubrick twisted and manipulated The Shining to the extent that King wanted nothing to do with production, denouncing the film on its release. Jack Nicholson plays Jack Torrance, who has assumed the role of caretaker at the Overlook hotel over the winter months. Torrance is accompanied by his wife Wendy (Shelley Duvall) and son Danny (Daniel Lloyd). Unbeknownst to his parents, Danny harbours psychic abilities. Upon arrival at the hotel, Torrance is informed that the previous caretaker developed cabin fever and in a fit of rage massacred his family. As the family become increasingly isolated from the outside world, Danny senses something strange happening to his father…

Nobody does insanity like Jack Nicholson. His portrayal of MacMurphy in One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest is infused with maniacal qualities, but in The Shining Nicholson turns the dial up to eleven. Boasting the most expressive eyebrows in Hollywood history, Nicholsons slow mental decay is unbearable to behold.  From the outset it’s clear that something isn’t quite right about Torrance - a history of alcohol and child abuse is hinted at but never clarified - yet it isn’t until much later that our suspicions are confirmed. Oozing menace, Nicholsons transformation from makeshift father to murderous lunatic is utterly terrifying. Duvall and Lloyd are impressive in their respective roles, but this is undoubtedly Nicholsons film. This is exactly the brand of “over acting” that the maverick performer has become synonymous with throughout his career, and makes for tremendous viewing.

The Shining is an incredibly difficult film to define. Haunted house horror? Ghost story? Psychological thriller? Slasher? All of these at once, Kubrick’s oddity transcends the horror genre. Immediately recognisable as a Kubrickian endeavour, The Shining is meticulously constructed; each frame loaded with significance. Kubrick’s compositions have never been so eerily balanced, his colour palette never more pronounced, and his use of the tracking shot never more effective. This is clearly a master at work.

In a film boasting so many incredible scenes, it would be unfair to pick one out. But where The Shining really excels, is in the build-up. Indeed, nothing much happens for the first half of the film, yet the sense of fear is omnipresent. Partly the wonderfully sinister sound effects, partly the eerie setting, partly the look in Nicholsons eye – we know something is going to happen. We don’t know what, we don’t know when, but we know; in every frame, the terror is palpable.

The Shining is deliberately left open to interpretation. It could almost be argued that The Shining is the perfect bookend to 2001: a Space Odyssey – the ambiguities of both films are endless. While it is painfully clear that The Shining is a somewhat intellectual endeavour, it also represents Kubrick at his most accessible for a mainstream audience.

The Shining is a deeply disturbing, enthralling masterpiece. A chilling study in madness, Stanley Kubrick’s sole journey into the horror genre is essential viewing. Probably the best horror film ever made, bar none.

In Bruges (2008) Review

Truly great comedies are able to provide more than just laugh out loud moments. They have have something else, something special to differentiate themselves from the Anchorman's of this world. Whether it be incredibly well written characters, a razor sharp script or a terrific central performance, contemporary comedies need to offer more than just gross-out cheap laughs to truly register. Thankfully, In Bruges combines all of these aspects and stands as 2008's finest comedic offering.

Quite simply, In Bruges doesn’t put a foot wrong from start to finish. Not an epic production in any sense of the word, but a tremendous film none the less. Written and directed by first timer Martin McDonagh, In Bruges is centred on two hit men, Ray and Ken, who take refuge in the tourist town of Bruges after a job goes horribly wrong. Throw in psychotic gangsters, racist dwarfs, drugs, violence and prostitutes and you’ll have a pretty good idea of what In Bruges offers.

Colin Farrell (Ray) and Brendan Gleeson (Ken) assume the roles of two hit men in hiding. Gleeson is excellent, as always, and acts as our conscience in a film that on occasion flirts dangerously with callousness. Farrell is the heart of the film, and is a revelation. His natural comedic timing is responsible for securing most of the films laughs, but it’s the sense of naivety and guilt Farrell effectively portrays that really anchor the film in reality. Ralph Fiennes plays the deranged boss determined to kill Ray. Fiennes has a field day in his role as the villain; his tantrums and razor sharp insults are among the many highlights of In Bruges. Forget Voldemort, this is Fiennes at his most sinister - his "inanimate object" moment is a personal highlight.The emphasis here is clearly on the quality of acting and the characters, as such the comedy seems to flow naturally as a result.

McDonagh's debut is about much more than cheap laughs, a heavy sense of guilt is prevalent in In Bruges; it permeates the film and all of its major characters. Farrell is essentially doomed by his overwhelming sense of guilt over recent events in London, whereas Gleeson’s guilt is more deep seated; stemming from his career, his wife, his being in Bruges. Interestingly, both characters have a chance at redemption of some degree. The redemption of Ray depends on his romance with a Belgian local, Ken understands this, and is aware that the cost of his own redemption is to help Ray – at any cost. The true wonder of In Bruges is that it is able to operate as an intriguing moral drama without sacrificing on comedy value.

In Bruges certainly doesn’t pull any punches. Some viewers are sure to find some of the content extremely offensive. But that’s what makes it great; it refuses to compromise. The comedy may be charcoal black, but damn is it funny. 

Django Unchained (2012) the Western Reimagined

Django Unchained has been a long time coming. For years, fans have wondered when Quentin Tarantino will finally tackle the genre that has so greatly influenced his filmmaking. Indeed, some argue that the man is incapable of making a film that is not a western; even his Second World War masterpiece Inglourious Basterds is a spaghetti western in disguise. Citing his favourite director as the late Sam Peckinpah, and describing the Good the Bad and the Ugly as his “favourite movie ever”, Tarantino was destined to contribute to his beloved genre sooner or later, and boy, was Django Unchained worth the wait.

Marketed and released as a film rooted in the western genre, Django Unchained controversially defies genre conventions and expectations. Tarantino himself does not consider the film a western at all, opting instead for the label of “spaghetti southern”. Needless to say, Tarantino’s vision of the Wild West differs dramatically from anything you’ve seen before.

Set during the antebellum era in the Deep South, Django Unchained follows the quest of a bounty hunter (Christoph Waltz) and a freed slave (Jamie Foxx) to rescue a captive love interest from the clutches of an evil rancher (Leonardo Di Caprio).

First off, Django Unchained can be seen to violate many conventions typical of the classical western genre. Controversially for a film of the western genre, the central hero is black. Jamie Foxx struggles valiantly to hold his own amidst a superb cast including Christoph Waltz, Samuel L Jackson and Leonardo Di Caprio. The sheer physicality of Foxx’s performance lends great credibility to the character arc of Django and his desperate plight.

It would certainly seem that Tarantino has modelled the character of Django on the classic protagonists of the spaghetti western; in which there are no heroes, at least not in a traditional moral sense. The way of the spaghetti hero is brutal, for there can be neither gentleness nor compassion in the cruel world they inhibit. Certainly, the world of Django Unchained is steeped in brutality; men are torn apart by dogs, unarmed women are gunned down and slaves fight to the death. Django himself must be ruthless to survive this hazardous environment.

Waltz is on typically brilliant form as the bounty-hunting dentist King Schultz. His comedic timing is impeccable, and along with noble steed Fritz the duo are at the centre of most of the films laughs. In an interesting twist, Di Caprio is cast as the villain of the piece; plantation owner Calvin Candy. Candy is a truly twisted creature, who openly seeks pleasure in the pain and misery of others. His gross demonstration of wealth is typical amongst western villains, and Di Caprio delights in portraying this sinister being as a combination of the selfish banker and the tyrannical rancher stereotypes.

Ennio Morricone, the infinitely gifted composer who scored the original Leone spaghetti westerns back in the 1960’s contributes greatly to the soundtrack. In trademark genre splicing style, Tarantino injects the film with the occasional jolt of contemporary hip hop. The use of Rick Ross Black Coffins synchronised with images of Django confidently riding into Candyland is just one fine example of many super slick visual juxtapositions within Django Unchained.

Like all of Tarantino’s best films, Django Unchained has been the subject of great controversy since its release. In more specific terms, the film has been labelled racist. Director Spike Lee refused to watch Django Unchained, stating that slavery was not designed to entertain as a spaghetti western, but was a holocaust in which many perished.

Whilst racism is undoubtedly a key theme of the film, I would not consider it racist by any stretch of the imagination. Racism has been a central component of many westerns, often conveyed through the stark opposition of Native Americans and western settlers. Tarantino has simply taken this classic narrative strand and adapted it to convey the Southerners ill treatment of African Americans. The power of Django Unchained relies heavily on its focus on the issue of slavery, which in turn acts as a historical social mirror to a dark subject contemporary America is rightly ashamed of.

 Whilst not the film many were expecting, Django Unchained shines diamond-like in the already glittering filmography of Quentin Tarantino. Referencing western patriarchs from Siegel to Leone, this is the western Tarantino was born to make. Django Unchained remains one of 2012’s finest offerings.

Revisiting The Thin Red Line (1998)

Terrence Malick is one of cinemas most elusive characters. Reclusive, uncompromising and brilliant in equal measure, Malick stands as one of the greatest living directors. His triumphs include masterpieces such as Badlands, Days of Heaven and most recently the Tree of Life. Yet his greatest achievement remains, in my opinion, Second World War epic the Thin Red Line.

Released in 1998, the Thin Red Line was one of two war films to generate mass critical acclaim. The other, of course, was Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan. Spielberg’s offering crushed the box office (as Spielberg movies tend to do) and cleared up at the Oscars, yet Malick’s first film in twenty years left empty handed despite being nominated for a whopping seven Academy Awards.

The Thin Red Line suffered considerably due to being released so soon after Spielberg’s behemoth had beaten cinema audiences into bloody submission. Expecting another adrenaline fuelled action adventure with a John Williams soundtrack, audiences instead were faced with a master class in the art of poetic filmmaking. As such, Malick’s vastly superior film has forever lived in the shadow of Saving Private Ryan.

That being said, Malick’s tone poem is certainly not for everyone, clocking in at just shy of three hours, the Thin Red Line is long, really long. At times the pacing is glacial, major actors prove distracting in tiny cameos, the bulk of the film rests on the shoulders of relative unknowns and the narrative textbook has well and truly been thrown out the window. Yet despite this, the Thin Red Line stands as a triumph of contemporary filmmaking.

In a nutshell, the plot is concerned with the dangers faced by Charlie Company as they attempt to secure a heavily fortified ridge in the battle of Guadalcanal during the Second World War. Woody Harrelson, George Clooney, John Travolta, John Savage, Thomas Jane, John Cusack, Jared Leto, Nick Nolte, John C Reilly and Adrian Brody all feature, yet the true protagonists of the film are portrayed by Ben Chaplin, Sean Penn, Elias Koteas and Jim Caviezel.

Malick’s camera flits freely between these characters, examining how each individual deals with the devastating demands of war. Chaplin’s character seeks refuge in erotic fantasies with his wife, whilst Penn cynically dismisses any hope he may have of salvation. Many of the characters provide a voice over narration, not to progress the plot, but to reveal more about themselves, their collective view of the war and its many disturbing facets. Malick seems to be more concerned with the psychological effects of war than the physical. The old adage states that war strips men of their innocence, Malick takes this idea further; he would suggest that war launches an assault on the soul. 

The Thin Red Line frames war as an unnatural state, a terrible villain that has no rightful place in this world. The film is riddled with tropical symbolism, and strives to depict man’s eternal struggle in the destruction of nature and himself. Where Spielberg shows a man shorn down by machine gun fire, guts in his hands, Malick reveals a baby bird, dying, haven fallen from its nest as bombs drop nearby. Thus Malick demands that we consider the very nature of war, how can we allow this to happen? The Thin Red Line is a perfect example of onscreen philosophy, the very ideas of Malick reflected in a visual tone poem.

Although the action scenes in the Thin Red Line are few and far between, they are expertly orchestrated. Bullets ricochet, explosions desecrate the landscape and soldiers scream in agony. One particular scene where Charlie Company assaults a fortified ridge is every bit as visceral as Saving Private Ryan’s famed beach landing. Spielberg’s film sheds little light on the nature of the Thin Red Line; perhaps a better comparison would be with the surrealist dreamscape of Coppola’s Apocalypse Now.

John Toll is the man responsible for the staggering cinematography on display. The vibrant jungles and lush landscape are beautifully captured through perfectly controlled tracking shots and slow camera pans. With the landscape itself being such a key thematic component of the film, it is imperative that it be captured in a manner that demands the attention of the audience. The ever brilliant Hans Zimmer provides an original score for the Thin Red Line, with much of the soundtrack consisting of several Melanesian choral songs and chants, which perfectly compliment the films many thematic elements.

Whether you admire the Thin Red Line for its vast poetic beauty, or consider it pretentious and isolating, it is impossible to deny the supreme power of the film. Malick is able to convey the very nature of love, death, heroism and war in a way no other film has ever accomplished. A free flowing visual poem of ideas, the Thin Red Line lives long in the memory. Never has a film this intimate, felt so epic.  A true masterpiece.

Only God Forgives (2013) Review

Back in 2011, Nicolas Winding Refn and Ryan Gosling collaborated to produce one of my favourite films of the past decade. Since then, Drive has become a cult classic. When it was announced that Refn would once again be teaming up with Gosling for a Thailand based gangster movie, expectation was high – sky high.

First off, Only God Forgives does not resemble Drive in the least. Refn has backtracked. The Danish filmmaker’s canon has been growing ever more commercial over the past few years. Bronson, Valhalla Rising and Drive all achieved reasonable commercial success, and could even be considered mainstream films. Only God Forgives showcases the return of Refn to his artistic roots, and then some.

The plot of Only God Forgives is almost non-existent. Ryan Gosling plays drug smuggler Julian, who faces the wrath of his tyrannical mother (Kristin Scott Thomas) when his brother is brutally murdered. The actions of Julian’s psychotic mother soon attract the attention of the brutal Lieutenant Chang, otherwise known as the “Angel of Death”…

Only God Forgives is quite simply one of the most stylish films of the year. Refn has demonstrated time and time again his unparalleled gift for stylistic control, and Only God Forgives is no exception. Rarely do movies look this beautiful, this is film as art. Bangkok is captured magnificently in swathes of red neon, a twisted hell on earth in which Julian is trapped. The visuals combined with the surging electronic score are infused with elements of eastern influence that firmly establish the backstreets of Bangkok as a primary character in this immoral tale of guilt.

All of Refn’s trademarks are notably present. The long awkward silences, scenery bathed in primary colours, haunting electronic score and excessive violence engulf Only God Forgives. It’s almost as if Refn has completely discarded any semblance of plot or character in some sort of bizarre stylistic experiment. This isn’t to say that Only God Forgives isn’t enjoyable, quite the opposite. The films total disregard for traditional cinematic conventions is refreshing, and it’s almost impossible not to admire Refn’s overly stylised nightmare.

It’s almost impossible to tell the difference between fantasy and reality throughout Only God Forgives. Refn’s Bangkok resembles some twisted form of hell, haunted by a neon red glow and inhabited by only the worst kinds of people. There are no heroes in Refn’s vision, only criminals of varying degrees. Julian is himself a criminal, and deserves his place in this hell on earth. Ultimately his quarrel lies with the creator of his surreal nightmare, the “angel of death” himself.

Those who struggle to endure the graphic violence so often associated with Refn's films may want to skip Only God Forgives. The brutality has been pushed to the limit. The colourful outbursts of Kristin Scott Thomas alone are guaranteed to secure a multitude of mid film walkouts from those with a sensitive disposition. Yet it is the violence orchestrated by Refn that truly shocks. One torture scene in particular makes for an uneasy viewing experience. 

Only God Forgives is utterly captivating, although certainly not for everyone - even the most bizarre offerings of David Lynch make more sense than Refn’s disturbed fantasy. Like meeting Colonel Kurtz for the first time, Refn's extraordinary vision is horrifying, confusing and ultimately, brilliant. You'll be glad you got off the boat.

Elysium (2013) Review

Neill Blomkamp stunned audiences back in 2009 with his startling debut District 9; a daringly original sci-fi action movie that bravely addressed the ongoing issue of apartheid in South Africa. Amazingly, despite a shoe string budget, District 9 went on to become the best blockbuster of the year. Boasting dazzling special effects and a refreshing take on a somewhat stale genre, District 9 announced the arrival of a new sci-fi master fit to rival Spielberg himself.
The immense success of District 9 has ensured that Blomkamp's new sci-fi adventure, Elysium, has rather large boots to fill. Set in the not too distant future, Elysium is the name of the space station where the wealthy dwell free from illness, poverty and even death. The rest of the human race remain on a polluted, overpopulated and highly dangerous earth. Despite their best efforts, the mass population are not permitted access to Elysium, whose inhabitants have programmed droids to control the people on earth. When ex criminal Max learns that he has only days to live, he attempts to turn the whole system on its head in a last ditch effort to reach Elysium and save himself.
The ever reliable Matt Damon is typically stoic as the morally ambiguous Max. The likability factor garnered by Damon is important in his portrayal of a character who is not always heroic. Disappointingly, Jodie Foster doesn't have a great deal to do in a somewhat cliched role, yet it's nice to see Diego Luna on screen once again as Max's best friend, Julio. It is Sharlto Copely however, who has the most fun as the villainous Agent Kruger, whose dogged pursuit of Max places him firmly in Terminator territory. Clearly unhinged, Kruger's scenery chewing outbursts are a joy to watch, and rank alongside Elysium's many highlights.
Unfortunately, Elysium, like most sci-fi films, suffers from the weight of exposition, which essentially takes up the first third of the film. While Blomkamp's version of the future is intriguing, things do begin to drag a little. This is in part due to our somewhat unnecessary introduction to Max as a child, which does little in aiding our understanding of the protagonist, provides little information, nor further the plot. Similarly, the subplot of the sick girl is a disappointing cliche which really isn't necessary. That being said, when Elysium gets going, it doesn't stop. Few directors are able to match Blomkamp when it comes to action. As the stakes are continually raised for the characters, the action is ramped up relentlessly; the film's later scenes hurtle past at a breakneck pace.
Once again, Blomkamp has proved himself a visual artist of the highest order. His apocalyptic vision of a diseased earth is perfectly realised, every last detail contributing to a barely recognisable cityscape. The shaky handheld cinematography adds a large degree of realism to events as they unfold; watch in slow motion as a droid explodes into thousands of pieces, or a pulverised face magically heal. The technical artistry of Blomkamp is simply astounding.
Don't be fooled by all the explosions however, Blomkamp's action filled romp isn't at all empty headed. Like District 9 before it, Elysium is a canvas on which Blomkamp clearly depicts his concerns regarding several key social issues. Despite the fantastical events unfolding on screen, the premise of Elysium is worryingly relatable; providing a social commentary on immigration, healthcare and overpopulation.
In short, Elysium is a fantastic sci-fi actioner, and a worthy follow up to the hallowed District 9. It's disappointing reliance on several age-old cliches prevent Blomkamp's effort from truly achieving classic status, yet this is a gooey, balls to the walls sci-fi with brains - terrific entertainment.

Interstellar - Review

The hype surrounding Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar has been palpable. There seems little doubt, that for better or worse, it’s set to be the filmic event of the year.

I desperately tried to book IMAX tickets for the opening night over a week ago, only to find that every single seat was booked out. Even the 11.30pm screening, which probably didn’t finish until 3am, was completely full. Fortunately, I managed to secure prominently located seats for the following night, showings for which were also fully booked.

Having raked in close to $20 million on its opening night (with limited release), Interstellar is already showing financial promise, currently amassing more than last year’s sci-fi box office smash, Gravity. Boasting a marathon running time of 170 minutes, Interstellar’s plot is bolstered by dark stars and wormholes, with the casual exploration of five-dimensional-space and a healthy dose of time travel thrown in for good measure. It doesn’t exactly scream audience accessibility, does it?

What then, can Interstellar communicate about the film industry? It would suggest that tent pole blockbusters don’t have to be bland and meaningless, it tells us that audiences will pay to see high concept, extravagant filmmaking, and that not everyone is satisfied with another stale Transformers sequel. Most of all, it would suggest that audiences are much smarter than studios give them credit for, and that people will watch anything that emerges from the mind of the mighty Christopher Nolan.

It’s almost tempting to skip the plot summary entirely, not only because it’s immensely difficult to construe comprehensibly and acutely, but for fear of giving the game away.

Suffice to say, Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) is a former NASA pilot turned farmer, scratching a living from a dying Earth with his two young children. When things take a turn for the worse on the blue planet, Cooper is persuaded by former mentor Professor Brand (Michael Caine) to embark on a perilous mission in order to find a new home planet for the human race. Aided by Brand’s daughter (Anne Hathaway), and astronauts Doyle (Wes Bentley) and Romilly (David Gyasi), Cooper confronts the consequences of interstellar travel and sets out on a monumental adventure to save mankind.

Chris Nolan has long mesmerised us with his uncanny ability to harness the power of the image, a talent inherent in only the greatest of filmmakers – the Kubricks, Malicks and Spielbergs of this world.

Think back to the brilliantly savage, alien landscapes of the Alaskan wilderness in Insomnia. Or the menacing figure of Batman perched atop a skyscraper, silhouetted by the shimmering lights of a Chicago skyline. Or the city of Paris magnificently folding on itself in one of the many vast dreamscapes of Inception. Or Tesla’s mist covered fields swathed in luminous bulbs of light in The Prestige. The list is endless, Nolan’s imagery saturate his films with a sense of wonder rarely experienced in the modern multiplex.

Interstellar itself certainly doesn’t skimp on wonder; a brief visit to a planet submerged entirely in water is nothing short of breath-taking, while another planet - completely engulfed in ice and rock – features frozen clouds that hover low in the sky.

In an early, earth bound sequence, Cooper doggedly pursues a surveillance drone he spies gliding across his farmland. The sequence that ensues is positively Malickian in nature, with Cooper’s pick-up truck ploughing through seemingly endless fields of lush green corn; a savage clash of machine and nature.

Yet despite the visual splendour now so associated with a Nolan production, one cannot help but feel that this is new territory for the visionary filmmaker. Don’t be fooled by the sterility of space, and the parched soil of a dying earth, for this is a far warmer Nolan enterprise than which we have become acclimatised to.

It’s a well-documented fact that Steven Spielberg was formerly attached to Interstellar, and it’s not difficult to see why the story might appeal to the veteran director. The awe inspiring sense of wonder that Interstellar so successfully conveys to the audience has been notably absent in cinema as a whole since the glory days of Spielberg and Lucas in the early 1980’s. But it’s the intimate father-daughter dynamic, so crucial in holding the intergalactic adventure together, that would have drifted nicely into the bearded wonder’s wheelhouse.

While many of Nolan’s previous films have featured parents estranged from their children, they rarely seem to evolve past the point of progressing the narrative. The loving relationship that binds Cooper to his children – especially his daughter, Murph – is the beating heart of Interstellar.

When Cooper is finally presented with the knowledge that in order to save Murph, he must leave her, Nolan lets us have it. The heart wrenching goodbye between father and daughter early in the film would threaten even the most steely of eyes with a tear, and despite the visual panache, one of Interstellar’s greatest moments is centred on a father stricken by grief at having missed his children growing up. One wonder’s if Spielberg himself could have done better.

Which brings me nicely on to McConaughey, a man reborn. Cooper is the latest in a long run of knockout performances for the Texan actor. Enjoying what is quite possibly the biggest comeback since John Travolta sought solace in the character of Vincent Vega, McConaughey is currently sitting pretty atop Hollywood’s elite. Next up – Gus Van Sant’s Sea of Trees, you can just about hear the Oscar buzz already…

Also impressive is the young Mackenzie Foy as Murph, her strong performance instilling the film with much of its emotional heft. Nolan regular Michael Caine is ever watchable, with strong support offered by Jessica Chastain, Casey Affleck, Wes Bentley, and John Lithgow. Anne Hathaway, clearly eager to work with Nolan again after her scene stealing performance as Selena Kyle in The Dark Knight Rises, struggles through a clunky monologue around the film’s midway point, but is otherwise excellent as Brand’s daughter.

Veteran composer Hans Zimmer returns to score Interstellar. Like previous Nolan/Zimmer collaborations, the soundtrack is loud, really loud. There are even times when the thunderous music actually renders the dialogue of characters incomprehensible, which is a minor gripe, albeit a frustrating one. The score itself is of a more classical nature than previous collaborations, which certainly lends itself to the theme of space travel – established long ago by the marriage of classical music and cosmos bound adventure in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

I’m actually surprised I’ve made it this far without mentioning Kubrick’s magnum opus, for its influence is undeniably felt throughout Interstellar. Then again, has there been a “space” film released in the past five decades that has somehow managed to evade 2001’s gravitational pull? I think not. That being said, comparisons to 2001 are not unjust. Both Kubrick and Nolan are transfixed with exploration, and with knowing the unknowable – ultimately, are we alone in the universe?

Rather than ignore 2001’s existence entirely, Nolan subtly acknowledges its influence on his vision. Artificial intelligence construct TARS at one point threatens to blow Cooper out of the airlock, a faint reference to HAL’s on board revolution in 2001. Even the very design of TARS is startlingly similar to 2001’s mysterious monolith.

In Nolan’s film, interstellar travel is only made possible because somebody – referred to only as “they” – created a wormhole near Saturn. Likewise, in 2001, Dave Bowman’s ultimate journey is only made possible because “somebody” located the all-powerful monolith next to Jupiter. It’s also possible to draw similarities between the climaxes of both films, although I won’t go into details for fear of spoiling Interstellar’s significantly less ambiguous ending.

Perhaps what 2001 and Interstellar have in common most of all however, are brilliantly intelligent, ambitious directors, unprepared to compromise in pursuit of their immense visions. Upon its theatrical release back in 1969, Kubrick’s 2001 split both audiences and critics down the middle. Now, five decades later, it’s widely regarded as one of the greatest films ever made. While nowhere near as ambiguous nor as challenging as Kubrick’s visionary creation, Interstellar will likely prove divisive for many, and only when the dust finally settles will it be possible to compare the two epic productions.

Combining the visceral thrills of event cinema, the heart and soul of Spielberg’s finest, and the uncompromising vision of Kubrick’s 2001, Interstellar is a work of colossal ambition. True, it may not fire on all fronts all of the time, but the greatness of Interstellar more than makes up for any nagging complaints – be it clunky dialogue or tacked on exposition.

With Interstellar, Christopher Nolan reminds us of a time where we looked up at the night sky in awe, rendered insignificant by the promise of a universe just out with our reach. Interstellar is ultimately a tale of hope, love, and sheer, reckless ambition.

In a modern world where we are forever looking downwards, scrutinising videos of dancing cats on our iPhones, it’s important to reminisce every now and then.

See it.

Now.

On the biggest screen you can find.

Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes. What don’t we know about Conan Doyle’s iconic detective? Now over a century old – his first adventure was published back in 1887 – Sherlock has forever lingered in our collective imagination. The man himself has been portrayed by close to a hundred different actors, his many triumphs celebrated in film, television, radio and literature, with every twist and turn of his tale ingrained in popular culture.

So, back in 2009, when Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat announced that they would be re-treading the escapades of the world’s most famous detective, I was far from enthused. A BBC backed Sherlock, set in modern day London, starring that guy from The Office and Benedict Cumber-something? No thanks.

After all, Guy Ritchie and Robert Downey Jr. had very recently done a fine job of reinventing the long-serving icon for a contemporary audience. What could Gatiss and Moffat possibly bring to the table that hadn’t already been done to death in countless previous incarnations?

Clearly, I couldn’t have been more wrong. The conversion process didn’t take long – about 25 minutes into the pilot episode, to be precise – and I am now an unabashed fan of Sherlock. Not only is it the best TV show I’ve seen this side of True Detective – it’s probably the best British television production I’ve ever seen. Who addicts and Luther fans can grumble all they like, but Sherlock is king of British telly, and with good reason.

For starters, the decision to subject Sherlock to the demands of everyday, contemporary life is a stroke of simple genius. Conan Doyle’s London may have changed dramatically over the course of the past century, but it remains as prominent a character in the adventures of his titular hero as it ever did. Horses make way for the iconic black cabs, and telegrams have been replaced with the digital technology we now rely upon so heavily. Yet despite this, we never feel far away from Conan Doyle’s original vision of the Victorian cityscape; in a delightfully self-aware sequence, Holmes dons the iconic deerstalker so firmly associated with Sherlock mythology in an attempt to shield his face from the press – a decision he later regrets; “How do you stalk a deer with a hat?” he sullenly complains.

That Gatiss and Moffat are able to mould Conan Doyle’s original tales into legitimately interesting modern day mysteries, whilst keeping the audience guessing (most of the time) is testament to their undeniable writing ability. The dialogue crackles with energy, Sherlock’s deductions are endlessly entertaining, and his relentless (often brutal) tirades are magical. To say Sherlock is funny would be a crude understatement – it’s clear that cast and crew alike are having a ball, relentlessly poking fun at the legend of Sherlock. The whip smart writing ensures that the laughs come thick and fast, and the dynamic, ever evolving relationships that exist between the central characters never fails to disappoint.

Which brings us to the man himself; Sherlock. Benedict Cumberbatch joins a long list of prestigious actors in portraying Conan Doyle’s eternal hero; Christopher Lee, Charlton Heston, Michael Caine and Peter O’Toole have all enjoyed time in Baker Street. Yet, of all these great names, it is Cumberbatch’s Sherlock who stands head and shoulders above the somewhat more traditional incarnations.

Relatively unknown (at least back in 2010), Cumberbatch infuses Sherlock with the colossal intelligence for which the character is best known, but with previously unexplored baggage – Sherlock Holmes, a drug addict?! Sherlock’s monstrous intellect has isolated him from his only brother, and indeed society as a whole; by his own admission, Sherlock is undoubtedly a sociopath – albeit an extremely high functioning one. Cumberbatch’s performance has since seen him appear in the excellent Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Spielberg’s War Horse, Star Trek: Into Darkness, Peter Jackson’s Hobbit trilogy and most recently The Imitation Game. Not a bad few years then.

And yet for all Cumberbatch’s fireworks, no iteration of Sherlock Holmes would be complete without trusty sidekick John Watson. Martin Freeman, now world renowned as Bilbo Baggins, is the reliable Ying to Sherlock’s zany Yang. It’s easy to see why Peter Jackson so desired the Brit to play the titular role in his Hobbit trilogy. Often out of his depth, aimlessly following an incomprehensible Cumberbatch, Freeman is the perfect “everyman” – which is ultimately the reason he makes such a terrific Bilbo, and an even better Watson.

Cumberbatch and Watson find staggeringly good support in Una Stubbs (Mrs Hudson), Rupert Graves (Lestrade) and Louise Brealey (Molly). Even creator Mark Gatiss posts consistently impressive performances in his regular appearances as Sherlock’s genial elder sibling, Mycroft. Most impressive of all is Andrew Scott’s Moriarty – Sherlock’s greatest nemesis. Outwitting Sherlock at every opportunity, Scott’s villain is menacing, unpredictable, and often hilarious – the scenes he shares with Cumberbatch are never short of captivating.

Despite their recent meteoric success, both Cumberbatch and Freeman are keen to further develop their Sherlock legacy. Cumberbatch himself recently stated that he would love to play Sherlock deep into his senior years, such is his fondness for the character. And with a Christmas special penned for 2015, and a fourth season scheduled for release in 2016, Sherlock is far from finished.

Indeed, if Cumberbatch has his way, we have yet to scratch the surface of what has already proved to be a magnificent television spectacle.

The game is afoot! 

2014 - The Year So Far...

It's easy to despair at the state of movies nowadays. I've only been to the cinema a handful of times in the past six months, because, well, pickings are slim. Really slim.

Sure, I enjoyed The Edge of Tomorrow, and Noah was terrific fun, if a little heavy at times. I also loved The Raid 2, which was released here back in April. Gone Girl, currently still showing in theaters across the country, probably stands as 2014's best film to date, at least since 12 Years a Slave silenced audiences nationwide back in February. I've got nothing against Gone Girl, but I can't help feeling let down that it's currently the best film I've seen all year.

Admittedly, I missed popular indies Short Term 12 and Blue is the Warmest Colour (they are now both on Netflix, so I'll be watching them soon), but the fact remains that my top four films of the year thus far consist of three literary adaptations - yes, the bible counts as literature - and a sequel. More worrying still is that Gone Girl isn't even close to being considered Fincher's best work. As it stands, a mediocre Fincher is still head and shoulders above 99% of the competition.

Perhaps I'm being cynical - which isn't exactly unheard of. After all, it's still relatively early in the filmic calendar, and many of the big hitters have yet to surface. The critically acclaimed Mr Turner, and Nightcrawler were both released this week. Also, cult horror in the making The Babadook saw a widespread release last week.

Looking forward, Chris Nolan's Interstellar looms large on the horizon, and is backed up by Benedict Cumberbatch vehicle The Imitation Game,  Tommy Lee Jones' The Homesman, Wong Kar Wai's The Grandmaster and Peter Jackson's final Hobbit installment. Paul Thomas Anderson's Inherent Vice stands as my most anticipated feature of 2014, with a classic soundtrack and jet black humour that harks back to the directors glorious exploration of the 1970's porn industry in the majestic Boogie Nights.

I have no doubt that of these films, some will turn out to be fantastic. However, compared to past years, the quality is lacking.

Let's look back at 1939 for example, when the best films of the year comprised of Gone with the Wind, Stagecoach, The Wizard of Oz, Mr Smith Goes to Washington, and Goodbye Mr Chips. Will any of 2014's biggest hits attain the greatness of any of these features? Unlikely.

How about 1974, which saw the release of Amarcord, Blazing Saddles, Chinatown, The Conversation, The Godfather Part 2, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and the Towering Inferno.
Or the following year, 1975, where the best films consisted of Barry Lyndon, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Jaws, and Dog Day Afternoon. One year later, in 1976, movie goers were rewarded with Network, The Omen, Rocky, All the Presidents Men, and Taxi Driver. It would seem that many of the best films ever made were released in the space of just three years.

Hell, even the 90's oozed quality. Take a look at the roll of honour for 1999 - American Beauty, Magnolia, The Insider, The Matrix, The Green Mile, The Sixth Sense, Fight Club and The Blair Witch Project. The naughties have had their moments too, just glance at 2007's output; There Will Be Blood, No Country for Old Men, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, Zodiac, Juno, Into the Wild, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Superbad, Eastern Promises, Michael Clayton, Hot Fuzz, I'm Not There, and we were even treated to a Tarantino flick (albeit a misfire) in Deathproof.

Maybe now you can understand my disappointment with the movies of 2014. I thoroughly enjoyed Gone Girl, but if it's still sitting pretty in my top five list a few months down the line, I'll be ever so slightly depressed. Is there still time for 2014 to bring it back? We'll see.

True Detective

Having originally missed the highly praised True Detective when it first aired on television, I was one of many who clamoured with excitement at the new Blu-ray release. And yes, while £32.99 for an eight episode season is a little steep (no wonder you’re struggling, HMV), the price tag is ultimately justified by the shows sheer quality.

The brainchild of Nic Pizzolatto, True Detective sets out to dismantle the traditional “buddy cop” movie, and to redefine the genre as a whole. Surprisingly then, the narrative of True Detective is nothing new, at times bordering on clichéd. Mismatched Louisiana detectives Rust Cohle (Matthew McConaughey) and Marty Hart (Woody Harrelson) must overcome their differences in order to solve a sinister homicide, all the while accidentally infuriating their superiors. Sound familiar? While the plot could have been copy and pasted from generic thrillers like Bad Boys or Lethal Weapon, True Detective owes much more to David Fincher’s Se7en, often treading in territory usually reserved for the horror genre.

Although the plot is somewhat formulaic, Pizzolatto seems to have little interest in narrative, instead opting to explore the turbulent private lives of Cohle and Hart. In a quite brilliant twist, True Detective has two narrative strands unravelling simultaneously; the first of which follows a young Cohle and Hart as they struggle to solve a disturbing homicide in 1995, while the second narrative is set 17 years later, where the two protagonists (who haven’t spoken to each other for ten years) are being questioned about their involvement in the infamous case of 95. This clever format allows for some significant narrative manipulation, and ensures that the audience are almost always kept in the dark from the word go.

The drama unfolds in the hurricane ravaged swamplands of Louisiana; a savage landscape, at once beautiful and utterly devoid of hope. Cari Joji Fukunaga’s direction is astounding, his camera languishing on the lush foliage, barren marshland and desolate corn fields that infuse True Detective with sinister melancholy; a sense of paradise lost. With the likeness of a macabre Malick, Fukunaga is seemingly fascinated by the twisted logic of nature, its cruelty, and its utter lack of morality – characteristics that True Detective would claim to expose in us as a species.

The emergence of McConaughey as a significant acting talent has stunned many over the past few years. A bizarre, yet brilliant, performance in Friedkin’s Killer Joe back in 2011 revealed a McConaughey nobody had seen before, and following knockout performances in Magic Mike, Mud, Wolf of Wall Street and Dallas Buyers Club, the Texan has established himself among Hollywood’s elite. Needless to say, McConaughey’s portrayal of the nihilistic Rust Cohle does not disappoint. Mesmerising from start to finish, Cohle is True Detective’s dark heart; mysterious, sinister and wildly enjoyable to watch. Cohle’s defining moment comes in the final episode, when, confronted with death, his entire belief system is called into question – McConaughey hits it out of the park.

Harrelson, while not able to match the deranged intensity of his partner, is on top form. Unlike Cohle, Marty Hart is a family man, forever trying, and failing, to do right by his wife and kids. This isn’t uncharted territory for Harrelson then, but the chemistry he creates with McConaughey is electric, and there’s rarely a dull moment when the two share the screen. Michelle Monaghan offers strong support as Marty’s wife, and while most other characters are transitory, appearances from the likes of Kevin Dunn and Shea Wigham ensure that the audience never loses interest in the various characters that drift in and out of episodes.

True Detective forever lingers in the cool shadow of the Southern Gothic, the show’s plot and setting a modern rendition of the macabre tales of Flannery O’Connor. Likewise, many of Cohle’s deeply nihilistic monologues could have been torn from an unwritten McCarthy novel, so bleak is his unique philosophy. Like the classic Southern Gothic novel, True Detective is obsessed with the flaws of its protagonists, and of our society as a whole, where evil forever lurks in the darkness.

Unfortunately, the final piece of the puzzle Hart and Cohle so desperately seek is a bit of a let-down. The writing from episode to episode is exceptional, and it simply feels like we’ve been unnecessarily cheated with what is quite frankly a disappointing reveal. Even theories offered by fans seem like more logical – and better – alternatives to the narrative development chosen by the writers.

Small gripes aside, True Detective is a tremendous viewing experience. Eight episodes of unadulterated brilliance, an uncompromising assault on the senses from the opening frame, and a brutally taught finale that owes a fair debt to Silence of the Lambs. Perhaps more a repackaging of the buddy detective genre, rather than a reinvention, True Detective remains a stellar achievement none the less. Also, The Handsome Family’s Far From Any Road is a contender for best TV show theme tune, ever!

Season two is already in development apparently, with Colin Farrell set to star. I’d love to see Pizzolatto and Fukunaga tackle a new case, with new detectives, and a new location, but I can’t help thinking that McConaughey and Harrelson have set a standard that may prove extremely difficult to top.

Twisted. Bleak. Macabre. Horrifying. Bold. Brilliant. Uncompromising. A Southern Gothic masterpiece.