Review: Guardians of the Galaxy

(Dir: James Gunn, 2014)

What Marvel needed to do next was change up the pace a bit, mostly because the so called "second wave" of Marvel films have been struggling somewhat, with none of Iron Man 3, Thor: The Dark World or Captain America: The Winter Soldier getting close to matching their predecessors, either in quality of storytelling or overall entertainment value. The inability to sustain the high was an inevitability. The prospect then of a new picture based on a little known comic with downright unusual characters that originated nearly fifty years ago, and of course a mild fear of the ensemble angle that failed to cohere as successfully as envisioned with The Avengers, meant approaching Guardians of the Galaxy with a certain level of cautious expectation. Cautious expectation that it seems was not remotely needed, as this film blows the entire second wave (and The Avengers) out of the water.

Perhaps a fundamental reason why this is so is the very nature of the film - it's out and out sci-fi, no two ways about it. It never feels like a superhero film even though the characters inevitably enter world-saving mode (maybe it's the name that implies it'll be the ultimate superhero movie?). It's a key point of differentiation that means we see different worlds and creatures with Earth only ever proving relevant in the prologue and through the cleverly applied music choices. Spaceships are the norm, as are dazzling battles in the sky amidst a background of dramatically beautiful nebulae. Lately there seems to have been a dearth of science fiction films approaching the genre with such a sense of glee, making this all the more satisfying.

However, trying to pin this all on the genre is somewhat disingenuous. The real reason Guardians of the Galaxy works so damn well is the sharp writing and what that means for these hitherto unknown characters. We get to learn who they are, see them grow, bond and we feel for them as all this progresses. Joss Whedon should really take note for The Avengers: Age of Ultron, it was the lack of character development that really hurt the first film and James Gunn has proven here how things should be done. We feel pathos for a tree that can speak only three words, laugh with a gun-touting raccoon that possesses genuine feelings and sympathise with a muscle bound hardman who looks like he'd be happy to break you in half. Then of course there's the lead, Peter Quill (aka Star Lord) played by Chris Pratt in a typically inspired piece of Marvelian casting. He is instantly likable and is the easiest for us to sympathise with as the Earth man-cum-renegade outlaw. In fact, of these core characters the only one who seems unable to really light up the screen is Gamora (Zoe Saldana), who despite being given more back story than most and excelling at kicking ass, seems to offer less for us to cling onto. Maybe it's the uptightness of the character, or perhaps we're never really sure if we should actually like or trust her.

The quality of the writing extends to the comedy. Marvel films never seem to shy away from adding a layer of humour (think Stark's caustic put-downs or Thor's fish-out-of-water Earth bound experiences), but the comedic aspect feels integral to this film. It's bristling with little one-liners and jabs, alongside the odd look in a cut away or just plain funny visual gags. It feels natural and feels right as part of the growth of this disparate group that have bandied together and must learn to trust one another. Pratt, with his background in comedy (Parks and Recreation, etc), is suitably relaxed and full of playfulness, whilst Bradley Cooper's delivery of Rocket's lines totally brings the cynicism and biting snark right out. Also from a voicework perspective it'd be entirely wrong to overlook Vin Diesel's contribution to Groot, adding much more personality than one might expect from his continual repetition of the same three word phrase, but considering the sheer quality of his similar work in the superb The Iron Giant it comes as no surprise. 

 
The one place in which it feels like something is possibly lacking is the realm of the villains. There never seems to be one truly unifying bad guy - there's Ronan (Lee Pace) who is pretty perfunctory in the villain stakes, who might not actually be as bad as Thanos who we see very little of, whilst we have to consider the somewhat comedic Yondu Udonta played by Michael Rooker, who also offers some mild threat and is the more interesting of the three. Yet in the universe of comic book villains none of these come close to being memorable. Thanos clearly has a bigger role to play somewhere in future Marvel storylines but in some sense none of this matters when your actual heroes walk the line of being anti-heroes, in a milder sense of the term. The villains just give the film it's narrative drive, nothing more.

The actual story does very little that hasn't been seen before but plenty of extremely good films are able to make themselves work in such scenarios. And that's the point - Gunn does a superb job of shepherding this awkward band of misfits through a story that introduces characters we likely have never heard of before and bringing to them life in an entirely effective way as we quickly care about them. Guardians of the Galaxy works on a character level, works as an action film, as a science fiction movie and as a comedy. At no point does it ever feel like a spoof or unnecessarily derivative. Like the first handful of Marvel films it sticks to its convictions entirely and it's this belief in what it is presenting that turns it into what may just be the best film of the summer, if not one of the years most fun.

Review: The Purge: Anarchy

(Dir: James DeMonaco, 2014)

As if by magic the real issue with last year's The Purge is immediately dissolved in The Purge: Anarchy. Okay, not magic, but someone involved with the production was paying attention. These pair of films are grounded in a sci-fi concept that's ever so eerily plausible whilst gleefully ticking the high-concept box labelled "why has no-one thought of this before?".  So to waste this concept - once a year all crime is legal for a twelve hour period to allow citizens to purge themselves - on a bland home invasion story really misses the scope of what could be achieved. The Purge: Anarchy recognises this, shoots for better, and gets halfway there.

This time round we get to experience the streets during an annual purge. This is what our cruel sense of curiosity wants to see. There's the couple whose car breaks down at the worst possible time; the mother and daughter forced to flee onto the streets; the lone man with a very defined purging purpose. Sure it's another survival piece, but one on a grander canvas with all manner of ghouls living out their sick and twisted fantasies as this group desperately band together. The situations they walk into are inevitably rife with the cliché but that's never stopped something being an entertaining watch. Frank Grillo's lone man on a mission, armed to the teeth with more than just his sombre purposefulness, is far more intriguing than the rest of the cast combined. Why? Because he carries a no-nonsense man-of-action essence about him with a certain underlying cool. In an alternate story he could've made an awesome avenging angel taking down the worst purging perpetrators (perhaps in the vein of The Punisher's Frank Castle).

Without being remotely revelatory this core story is entertaining and is more of the ilk of what this idea deserves. But it unnecessarily loses it's way when determined to bring the classism and heavy-handed societal issues back into focus. Absolutely there's something interesting about the juggernaut with a man and a giant gun in the back and the mystery as to why it's on the streets. But shift to how the rich want to purge and how that affects our protagonists and it feels like the awkward shoehorning of ideas into the film. Couple that with fleeting hints of the resistance fighters who want to see an end to the purging (surely this is setting-up for a third film?) and some of this feels like a different film. Of course an over-arching idea like this deserves exploration, but in this world of creepy face-masks and over-the-top ideas of how people might approach killing, a different tact would've worked. So the overall concept is improving and we're getting more of what we want, but there's still a way to to go make it something special. This will do for now.

Review: A Million Ways To Die In the West

(Dir: Seth MacFarlane, 2014)

Comedy is the most difficult genre to be critical about because, quite frankly, what makes one person burst into fits of laughter might barely elicit a mild upturn of the mouth from someone else. Hence exiting the cinema after A Million Ways To Die In the West and the inevitable “what did you think?” question gets circulated, I found myself in the minority by saying, “not the best”. I might otherwise have said “meh” – hardly the most eloquent or incisive of critical thoughts, but it’s a film I struggled to feel much about. In fact I might have otherwise forgotten most of it already if it weren’t for a desire to put something down on paper, so to speak. On the plus side it’s a stream of gags, both visual and verbal, so there’s plenty going on, but this barrage of jokes is much like the shooting ability of Seth MacFarlane’s Albert in the film – the target rarely gets hit. The sight gags tend to work better and there are the occasional quality one-liners, but you have to trudge through a literal upturned hat of shit to get to them. Maybe it’s just the dumbness of scatological humour that I’ve never been a fan of, or the tiresomeness of the uninspired sexual jokes, or too much of this irritating IF I SHOUT IT THEN IT’S AUTOMATICALLY FUNNY modern approach to comedy.

It’s not just those things though. MacFarlane seems thoroughly out of place in a western – everything about his clean Hollywoodised look, his voice and his presence screams “I do not belong here!”, which is obviously jarring. Plus he’s not exactly the greatest actor. Sure his voiceover work is pretty superlative, but in the flesh I’m not convinced. In fact the only actor who really seems to make sense is Liam Neeson – a man whose ruggedness perfectly aligns him to play a badass, outlaw gunslinger in the wild west. Yet his character seems to operate almost entirely away from the comedic side of the film making it frequently appear as if he’s wandered in off a neighbouring set. There was a trailer for A Million Ways To Die In the West that was introduced by MacFarlane and his character Ted, which included the quality line “Does Liam Neeson even known he’s in this?”, which rings strangely true. None of the other characters stand out apart from perhaps Charlize Theron’s Anna, who on the one hand seems lovely but on the other can’t shed her modern edge. But then neither can the film as a whole, which rather than seeming incidental ends up overshadowing as it sits awkwardly.

Aligning the film to MacFarlane’s Ted was an undoubtedly wise marketing decision, even if the film hasn’t had a great opening weekend, yet modern audiences don’t seem to care about westerns so there’s always that struggle. Ted is the vastly superior film thanks to the novelty factor of a foul-mouthed talking teddy bear and it's relationship with Mark Whalberg, whilst A Million Ways To Die In the West isn’t able to offer anything equivalent. Well, maybe it does – it features one of the best cameos I’ve seen in any film ever (saying which would be unfair). But that aside, if tiresome, dumbed-down humour in an excessively long package is your thing, you’re in for a treat. Sure I laughed a bunch of times, but never in that substantive way that ripples through you uncontrollably, making your face ache and head pound. It’s not that type of film. “Meh” still feels about right.

Review: Godzilla

(Dir: Gareth Edwards, 2014)

There's a formula to big budget movies centered on some sort of monster / alien / strange mechanised creature (delete as appropriate), threatening to destroy the Earth and mankind. You may have noticed it in the past. Mankind is usually in some way responsible for this threat arising. It appears and destroys without much warning. There's some sort of scientific solution which only one hero can manage to impossibly deliver and save us all, inevitably with bare seconds to spare. So it's nice when conventions are playfully and positively tweaked. Say hello to Godzilla, a film not content with merely being a by-the-numbers destructathon.

That last statement sums up the divided reaction Godzilla has been met with. There are the people who inevitably only want to see a ridiculous amount of destruction and firepower aimed at this monster whilst he's doing his darndest to level our cities. These people appear to have been less than happy with this film as a result, but I suspect the forthcoming Transformers: Age of Extinction will do enough to satiate that desire they hold. Epic decimation of cities is a secondary concern in Godzilla. The focus and framing is on the actual characters which quite frankly is how any good film should be. But, if you've ever seen Gareth Edwards superb debut film Monsters, this should come as no surprise. In that case the character-centric approach was a result of the miniscule budget, but here on this grander scale, well it's just such a pleasant surprise for the audience to be trusted in such a way.

Yet it's not quite as simple as that. The characters we're presented with are perfectly watchable but don't give many reasons for us to really care what happens to them. Really anyone could be in the shoes of either Aaron Taylor-Johnson or Elizabeth Olsen. It's the likes of Bryan Cranston, who is always fun, and Ken Watanabe's kind of intriguing one-note performance that bring personality to the table. The story runs the course of predictability (the scientist no-one wants to listen too, the hero continually in the right place, etc), yet in doing so still manages to take a route that feels more akin to the original films. I'd imagine most of the people complaining about the approach here have never seen one of these, although admittedly it has been many years since I watched the likes of Godzilla vs Megalon, Mothra vs Godzilla and Godzilla on Monster Island, but this new film is definitely hewing far closer to those than the likes of Roland Emmerich's bastardized 1998 film. And all the better for it.

Godzilla is really a feast for the eyes and ears thanks to some fantastic cinematography and the use of sound and music. Take the HALO jump scene of soldiers parachuting into the dusky, dust-choked, monster-ravaged city, to the haunted strains of Ligeti's Requiem, whilst very cleverly utilising the heavy breathing first person perspective. That is the pure viscera of cinema. Edwards has found himself a massive toolbox to play with so across the whole film has amped up what he'd previously tried to achieve on such a limited scale. The creature reveal is effectively done too. Sure it takes a long while to see the world's most famous kaiju in all his splendor, but the tease is exactly part of the fun as parts of him slowly come to light. There's been criticism that he's a bit too fat looking but honestly, so what? This feels like Gojira and that's what matters.

By refusing to stick to formula and frustrating people in the process, this latest version of Godzilla stands out in the best possible way amongst the pantheon of big-budget films intent on leveling this world we've built. Sure it could use some better characters and writing, but please, give us more films where the monsters and destruction they cause are the background to actual characters. It's the kind of film where the camera pulls away when other films might be having their money shot and I applaud that. Haven't we seen enough films that devolve into an hour of mindless destruction and explosions? Less is more and that's something that's frequently forgotten in this modern age - just look at how the most effective horror films tend to be those that let your mind run amok rather than those that bare all quickly. The same applies here. Mix in the stunning visuals, sound and sense of faithfulness to the history of the character and we're left with a hell of an enjoyable film. Writing this has really made me want to watch it again - what does that say!?

Review: Transcendence

(Dir: Wally Pfister, 2014)

The idea of the singularity is nothing new in filmic terms. Terminator 2 may have couched the omnipresent fear of artificial intelligent self-awareness in the threateningly didactic term "judgement day", whilst hammering the point home using the crushingly iconic image of gun toting silver mechanical skeletons clambering over human skulls, meaning this is something we should fear. Or is it? If you choose to believe how Transcendence frames this idea, using that very word as an alternate descriptor weighted with positive implications, you might believe it's a friendlier proposition. Or perhaps it just seems that way when the sentience in control is Johnny Depp.

This is the core idea that frames Transcendence, serving as a catalyst for a handful of other intriguing ideas, not all of which are worth focusing on, resulting in a film that finds itself becoming too easily lost. As time progresses and we find ourselves deeply ensconced in this century with technology taking an increasingly prescient role, the reality of machine based self-awareness feels strikingly close. Take the fear created by Skynet back in 1991 - we've always seemed at least a lifetime away from that happening, whilst comparatively the artificially appealing Samantha in Her seems not only attainable rather than fantastical, but desirable in the impact it could have on our lives. If that concept hadn't been set as an alternative love story, surely dystopia would've reigned supreme. The point is we're getting a lot closer to making this fear real so we should be exploring it more now. Yet there's something reductive about imagining this coming from a person whose had their consciousness uploaded so they exist beyond the corporeal. Or perhaps it just feels like a fantastical step too far. Early in the film we're introduced to an A.I. called P.I.N.N. and I can't help but wonder if letting that run amok would've been more satisfying instead, rather than the resulting nano tech and it's slightly odd dispersal method which continually feels like a step too far. At least there's a little bit of intrigue to come from the different perspectives of is "he" bad or is "he" actually good, even if the ending leaves you with mixed levels of satisfaction.

To my eyes the most interesting idea within the whole film is a sorely underexplored concept seemingly only to exist as a function of the plot: the rebel group R.I.F.T. led by Kate Mara's Bree who are inspired by the words and ideas of Paul Bettany's Max Waters. This is a group who see where the ship is heading and will do what they must to halt its inevitable progression. Dissolution of the internet and our perpetual connectedness is a realistic solution for them, and it's here the film could've used more focus. The internet appears to be the greatest creation of modern times but do we still even appreciate the deleterious effects it may have on us, our children or society as a whole? It's intriguing to think how we might cope going back in time an equivalent twenty plus years by having such unparalleled access to information and expression yanked from us, whilst living with technologies no longer capable of fulfilling most of their intended functions. Would it be a positive for society and how desperate would the scramble to get it all back look? How lost would the youth weened on this feel? Beyond the initial fear of losing all this "something" that doesn't really exist, it's hugely fascinating. Thus it's frustrating that the film touches on this concept but really chooses to keep it at arms length in favour of a failed human story and generic thoughts of control.

Further frustration is bred from the presence of Mr. Depp. There was a time when the prospect of seeing Depp in a film was a reassurance that it would be intriguing and quirky, but damn has he overplayed that card now. This may be a contentious opinion for his fans out there, but he has not been good in anything since the turn of the century. Just look at his filmography on IMDb and you'll realise that the only satisfying work he's done in the last 14 years is voicework (The Corpse Bride, Rango & Frankenweenie). His physical presence on screen has become a reason not to watch something, and when he loses the annoying quirk he's just bland. Transcendence is no difference - his character is irritating from the outset and when he's later traversing the line of is his digital self actually good or bad, the smug, righteous, self-satisfaction he oozes makes you wish you wouldn't see him on screen in anything again. The rest of the cast is a mixed bag. Neither the aforementioned Mara or Bettany get enough screen time, whilst Morgan Freeman feels well out of place as some sort of tech / AI guru. Rebecca Hall is usually an interesting actress but her character suffers from a myopia that makes her feel too one dimensional. Another case of good bunch of actors not adding up to much thanks to the material.

The one strength of the film, which was always expected thanks to director Wally Pfister's pedigree, is that it's visually very enticing. But when you're Christopher Nolan's go to cinematographer that's the least we should expect from your first film. But it shows that Pfister has yet to work out how to actually tell a story. It's clear why he'd choose this as a directorial debut as there are good ideas lurking within, but they're never fully realised whilst the structure and way the story evolves always feels unfocused. It's a shame as prior to release Transcendence showed all the hallmarks of a film worth getting excited about. If and when it happens, the singularity will inevitably be a lot more memorable.

Review: Captain America: The Winter Soldier

(Dir: Anthony Russo & Joe Russo, 2014)

Note: Unusually for reviews I write, this one contains spoilers. If you care about not knowing important plot details for both Captain America films, don't read!

Captain America is not a man for this modern age. The Avengers obfuscated this reality thanks to the assembled ensemble, but Captain America: The Winter Soldier makes this strikingly clear. Unfortunately it's not exactly a surprise as it was a fear left lingering from the end of Captain America: The First Avenger. Joe Johnston's film was the anomaly in the run of first Marvel films, set in the 1940s many decades behind where this universe was elsewhere establishing itself, but absolutely the right period in which to play, with this era being the defining essence of the character. The First Avenger plays out like a classic, fun, adventure serial, albeit with a slightly shiny gloss and tech that's unbefitting of the time, but this nature forms its core strength. It feels a step aside from the soulless, generic cgi-worshipping modern action films that are now frequently thrust upon our screens, with the effects actually serving the story rather than being the story. And this classic edge makes a tangible difference.

The stoicism exuding from Cap (Chris Evans) alongside his core belief that he can make a difference even in his weedy Steve Rodgers frame, and not just can make a difference but should try regardless of the consequences, define him. This was a prevailing attitude of the time, where service to your country was duty and honour of the highest order. But attitudes change over time as the horrors and falsities of war truly reveal themselves and it becomes a diminished notion shaded in futility. And so the character's unwavering commitment to this ideal starts to feel almost alien in this day and age. Even his name now represents an ideology of patriotism that's looked upon in derision in a century defined by perpetual globalism. Where is his place now? This feeling lingers. Winter Soldier could've made things worse by running with the whole fish-out-of-water schtick but it wisely downplays this, not least because Thor so thoroughly nailed it. But the few small jokes only remind that this is a man stuck in the wrong time who can never make it home. Likewise a thread of love life jokes never sit right thanks to the weight of the continually burgeoning relationship with Peggy (Hayley Atwell) from The First Avenger, with it's sweet tentative steps coming from a place of genuine hope and subtle longing, rather than the shallow seeming implications here.

A compounding problem of bringing Cap into today's world is that here and now he seems like nothing more than a glorified strongman. Back in the forties he was a game changer. No-one else out there was like him or could do would he could do. He was unique, the definition of a hero and the villains he had to go up against felt similarly matched to his abilities. In the context of his modern compatriots, what does he offer compared to the technologically and firepower enhanced Tony Stark or the radiation / biologically induced craze of Hulk, let alone an actual god? Hell the cunning and guile of both Black Widow and Hawkeye are at least on a par with him, never mind their combat skills. Where does he really fit in this team? What's unique about him except for perhaps the positive attitude he brings? And then there are his new enemies who are next level in their dedication to technology. Sure this was also the Red Skull's forte, but put into context what was available to that megalomaniac compared to the sheer scale of what Cap needs to take down in Winter Soldier. Seventy years of the world growing and developing and he's moved forward how? The ruthlessness of a powerful, mechanically adorned foe feels about the only suitable match-up here.

But nothing of the villainous aspect in Winter Soldier feels right. What it did not need was a rehashing of seventy years ago, especially arising in a contrived way for only Cap to deal with, despite it's fundamental impact on S.H.I.E.L.D.. Modern day Hydra, the unnecessary return of Bucky as the titular Winter Soldier - are Marvel feeling that devoid of ideas despite the wealth of source material available at their fingers? Hydra was ultimately defined by the Red Skull / Johann Schmidt, creating an iconic villain that unequivocally radiates maleficence. On what level is Robert Redford's Alexander Pierce remotely comparable, let alone a compelling bad guy? The clichéd undercurrent of is he / isn't he bad doesn't help allowing motivations to appear hazy, but then there's always something about watching the magnetic Redford. The biggest crime is bringing back Toby Jones' Dr Zola as a bizarre all-knowing digitised head-on-a-screen - the reveal is the epitome of facepalm, utterly awkward plotting. Hydra's presence is a distraction. It's an unnecessary plot device to allow connection to the first film. It flat out does not work.

The First Avenger revealed a rich history surrounding the Marvel universe, with Howard Stark being integral to the initiative that created Captain America. He and the core team from this film are, as is inferred in Winter Soldier, the ones who ultimately established the organisation of S.H.I.E.L.D., but this inexplicably gets rapidly skated over. What's most frustrating is that there's so much great potential for storytelling within this idea, from both the perspective of the characters and the setting, that to leave us with such a bland story with stupid plotting is just squandering your assets. Cap doesn't feel like the most important part of this film, S.H.I.E.L.D. does. The attempts to set up this aspect of the universe in Iron Man 2 may have felt overdone, but here it just bogs everything down. As there's now a tv series bearing the name S.H.I.E.L.D. it's only an inevitability that focus drifts that way, but who other than the most hardened geeks are really concerned about their politics? I'm not when it comes at the expense of the storytelling. It's arguable that a benefit of this direction is the increased focus on Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson), who has always been a semi-intriguing if fleeting character of the series. This gives him probably the most screen time of all the films, yet nothing is really revealed and he still feels like an enigma devoid of personality. Is he dead or is he really alive? Does it matter when the only reason we have to care is that he's played by Samuel Motherfuckin' Jackson?

Ultimately it appears we have The Avengers to specifically blame for how Captain America: The Winter Soldier has turned out, since this feels like an attempt at creating a mini version. And that's not a good thing. Cap clearly can't work alone in this modern age, so he has an assembled team - this means more Black Widow (Scarlett Johanssen) but she proves to be less interesting here (I still stand by my assertion that we need to see a Black Widow / Hawkeye back story film), whilst Anthony Mackie's Falcon serves as a very basic imitation of Iron Man but also fulfilling the inevitable drama and symbolism of Bucky's return and Cap needing a partner. Cobie Smoulder's Maria Hill comes out to play again and still seems to be there solely to move the plot along. Then there's the very nature of Winter Soldier - the blandness that typifies a lot of modern big budget action films that also fail when it comes to offering decent character development, which is basically The Avengers summed up. Of course the special effects look amazing and the destruction of the heliships is fantastic work, but that alone does not make an action scene more enjoyable. If the destruction feels soulless and the stakes seem forced then so what. This was endemic with The Avengers and continues here, but more importantly the essence of fun that was prevalent within The First Avenger is sorely lacking. It's all too po-faced leaving a taste of casual indifference.

That there is a lot of criticism laid at the feet of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, but that's not say it's actually bad. It's still an enjoyable couple of hours and Cap remains one the most likeable characters within the Marvel universe. The problem is that being such a fan of The First Avenger and seeing all its strengths laid to waste is just so frustrating. In an ideal world the end of that first film would not have forced Cap into freezing as he stops the Red Skull, allowing more time to develop interesting and fun stories in his rightful era before he ends up on ice, including the establishing of S.H.I.E.L.D.. But alas it's not to be. This is bland, easy entertainment lacking the richness of both setting and characterisation that the first offered. Unfortunately it's like The Avengers all over again, and further proof after Iron Man Three and Thor: The Dark World, that perhaps it's the more unique and out-there Marvel characters like Ant-Man that we should instead be looking forward to seeing on screen.

Read my short reviews of the first wave of Marvel films here.
Read my review of The Avengers here.
Read my review of Iron Man Three here.

Review: The Zero Theorem

(Dir: Terry Gilliam, 2013)

There’s something reassuring about Terry Gilliam, regardless of the varying nature of his films. He resides in that rarefied bubble of filmmakers interested not only in creating something wildly inventive and generally out-there, but ensuring his work is full of actual ideas. And even though this means his films can be an acquired taste just slightly off the mainstream radar, he still gets to make them at a level analogous to his vision whilst attracting a host of interesting actors. The Zero Theorem continues this trend.

The most striking element of this new Gilliam film is how it feels cut from the same cloth as his oft considered masterpiece Brazil. A similarly Orwellian fear of surveillance runs through the film as "Management" is omnipresent, continually observing and continually setting seemingly impossible deadlines for Qohen (Christoph Waltz). His job, manipulating data in an attempt to complete the zero theorem, an impossible task that will seemingly prove the fate of the universe and the meaningless of life, has an air of gamification that belies its suggested importance. This appears to be the nature of work of the future - glorified 3D block-building games completed under strict time pressures in video arcade environments. It seems wearying.

This search for meaning in life is the essence of the film. Qohen is waiting for a phone call believing it will explain the meaning of his life. An answer to the inevitable nothingness. His indefatigable faith that this will happen drives the man and pushes him into a pattern of repetition that he seems unable to escape from. He can’t see the futility of the situation and how this faith has led him down the path of a life not lived. The fact he lives monk-like and works out of a derelict church, the primary setting for the vast majority of the film, makes it akin to being continually hit in the face with religious allegory, not to mention the pointlessness of faith.

But there’s something about the set design – this location is fascinating and almost functions like a character in itself, as its owner co-habits with pigeons, uses the font as his kitchen sink and finds a camera in the place of a crucified deity’s head. Outside this run-down paradise, the futuristic world is hyper-realised neon kitsch competing with grey European city. It never really sits right but thankfully we don’t get to see too much of it.

We lose further balance when taken into a world of virtual reality. Attempts by Mélanie Thierry’s Bainsley to seduce Qohen lead to a CGI beach, a place where he can seemingly find solace away from his search whilst actually “connecting” with another person, but it’s over-stylised to death and never feels anything less than awkwardly cheesy. The only saving grace of these scenes are Thierry’s alluring charms, but her character is never able to step beyond cliché. Love, as it were in the place of The Zero Theorem, is nothing but a construct, bought and fated to be virtual in its reality.

Waltz effectively shoulders the responsibility of leading the film (much as he continually keeps proving his worth as an actor). Qohen is imbued with a frenzied mania as he slowly loses control that sees him refer to himself as “we”, an alternately endearing and irritating affliction, whilst intertwining a sense of fatalism with his determination of faith. He brings a physicality to the role alongside his usual loquaciousness. This gets balanced by a comedic edge from supporting roles by Tilda Swinton, David Thewlis and Lucas Hedges - all are inevitably quirky in their own right with each adding a needed different flavour.

Whilst The Zero Theorem is intriguing and a mostly enjoyable film, it never gets remotely close to transcending most of Gilliam’s past work. It does itself no favours by leading to a flat ending that suggests both Gilliam and writer Pat Rushin had no clue where they were actually taking the story. Yet it remains one of those films that seems like a rarer and rarer experience as time passes, and that it possesses ideas and is willing to throw them about (success of them all be damned) is its real strength. It still feels like any sort of mad inventiveness from Gilliam should be celebrated in these days of creeping filmic unoriginality, regardless of whether this only moderately delivers.