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.

Review: Her

(Dir: Spike Jonze, 2013)

Technology as panacea for real life relationships. Physicality lost to emotionality. A partner effectively existing solely in ones head is a form of madness. The permanence of artificial intelligence versus the temporality of corporeal existence. The ideology of monogamous relationships transcended by connectivity to digital networks. The slow shift of power as technology rises beyond it's subservient purpose. Redefining existence to account for the displacement of the physical. The actual meaning of 'I love you' when uttered by a sentient operating system. Setting ourselves up for the same disappointment from technology that we receive from humanity. The definition of "shared experiences" which bond two people, when one is living it and one is observing it. Hell is other people - or an AI that bases it's opinion of you on every aspect of your digital profile and communication, a depth of knowledge no person could ever reach. The value of an emotional connection with something considered "real" only in digital terms. Resurrection as a reality, of sorts.

 

Beauty is ragged, real, crystalline. People are dichotomous fuck-ups. The clean, crisp warmth of the entitled side of the Los Angeles of the near future. Beaches with a decidedly retro hue. The skill required to act effectively against a disembodied voice. The satisfyingly simple humour of cute, sweary characters in advanced computer games. The extreme reaction to dealing with overwhelming constant connectedness and communication. And of life as a whole. Print will never truly die. Dead kitty. The hollowness of well-intentioned words farmed off to someone else to compose. A mass of people ceding public communication to continual dialogue with an ear piece. The dysphoria when technology abandons us. Or is it relief?

These are some of the thoughts that arose during and after the beautifully judged Her. Or you could of course see it as just a simple love story.

Review: RoboCop

(Dir: José Padilha, 2014)

Forever doomed. The original RoboCop is hardly an untouchable holy grail of cinema, hell no such thing actually exists, but is it a film actually worth trying to improve or reimagine today? OK, forever doomed is perhaps a little too harshly pessimistic for this remake. The storytelling, the humanity, action, ideas and satire of Paul Verhoeven's 1987 original make you question the need. But visually... well there we have another argument. Peter Weller's man machine aside it's a film that looks incredibly dated, even ten years on from it's release that was the case, notably because of the stop motion effects and some unusually unkind future-as-seen-through-the-eyes-of-the-eighties aesthetics. So yes visually, it needed updating, but story wise what's the point if you can't improve? 

Put simply, this remake does not succeed on improving on the original as a whole. However it is a blessing that 2014 RoboCop comes at us with it's own ideas and these at least feel more rounded for the age we now live in. It weighs itself down too heavily on the political front with Samuel L. Jackson's proselytising on The Novak Element, slowing the film down despite the intriguing mocking of such single-mindedly opinionated broadcasters. The robotics aspect and need for marketing/media spin feel more relevant if underdeveloped, likewise the barely touched upon (after five minutes) position of America trying to control the world remotely. It's commendable these ideas are here but more of the fluff could've happily been lost to develop them further. Joel Kinneman makes an adequate RoboCop thanks to being thoroughly wooden, but that just means that when he's Alex Murphy he practically vanishes into the background since he's that bland. Peter Weller brought a fascinating level of pathos to the original character. I never once cared about whether Kinneman's Murphy remembered, resolved and reconnected with his picture perfect family. 

 

Things get worse on the villainy side. It's always a pleasure watching Michael Keaton on the big screen, here as OCP head honcho Sellars, but it took until the final minutes before he seemed like someone we were supposed to hate. And what of the perfunctory bad guy Antoine Vallon, who might as well have not even existed in the story he was that inconsequential? Let me just say; Clarence J. Boddicker, Dick Jones, Bob Morton, Emil - these are bad guys of interesting and varying shades. These are the people we want to see a policing man / machine brutally taking down. And the threat and menace of these guys is palpable thanks to the unrestrained ultraviolence permeating throughout the original in a Detroit that feels like it needs saving by a super cop. That's not to bemoan the lack of this intense violence in the remake, but just to point out that it serves it's purpose very effectively and the lack of it here contributes to a film with no threat and no sense of pent up satisfaction at the denoument.

Despite these criticisms the films works well visually. I had no qualms with the redesign of the suit, in fact I like the black version and it fits our present perceived futuristic aesthetic. The central control centre, first person perspective and heads up views all looked great, and scenes like the blacked out, thermal imaging gunfight had a heightened sense of intrigue. The ED-209's looked decidedly effective too, a world away from the less menacing stop motion versions. But this is what we should expect these days and is the remake's primary strength.

But does that alone make the remake worth it? RoboCop (2014) is a pleasantly entertaining modern action movie that looks slick, justifying the one reason why the original needed updating. But it doesn't match up on any other level so we're left with a film that's impossible to watch without mentally comparing it to the superior original. And the little throwbacks such as one liners and music cues just hammer home what we're missing, rather than seeming as affectionate as the filmmakers would like. RoboCop (2014) was never forever doomed, but it doomed itself with too many faults that never let it rise beyond unmemorable fun. Hopefully one day studios and producers will realise it's bad films with good ideas that are the ones that really need remaking.

Review: Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit

(Dir: Kenneth Branagh, 2013)

There's a sense of desperation with how the American studio system seems so keen to get a Jack Ryan franchise properly off the ground. Surely this is rooted in a need to replicate the money-printing, decades long success of the Bond films, as what do the Americans have to offer as an equivalent? The Mission: Impossible films are fun but not much more, whilst the superb Bourne franchise regenerates itself. So we do this dance again with the fifth Jack Ryan film in twenty four years and the fourth actor to play the man. This version, Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit, opts for full reboot which is a wise decision when the characters history has been so fractured and twelve years have past since he last appeared in the guise of Ben Affleck in the hardly memorable The Sum of All Fears. 

We now have a Jack Ryan more fit this modern world and a forced ideology that he's radicalised into service by the events of September 11th 2001. This also means a youthful Ryan, someone that audiences might find more credible and theoretically want to watch, although I'm not convinced Chris Pine has got himself to that position in audience minds yet, regardless of the Star Trek franchise. He proves to be adequate in the role as the focus of the character is more on brains than brawn and he brings a certain all-American charisma and drive. Yet compared to a young Alec Baldwin (The Hunt For Red October) or Harrison Ford (Patriot Games and Clear and Present Danger) he still feels pretty vanilla.

On the other hand Kevin Costner's role in the story, which proves to be bigger than expected, is one of two strengths. He convinces in the older, mentorish role which he seems ready to grow into now (see also Man of Steel) whilst also getting to wield a sniper rifle. Hopefully he takes on more of these roles in the future. Kenneth Branagh turns out to be the other strength, but solely from an acting perspective. His Russian accented Viktor Cherevin is of course slightly over-played in a very obvious way, but is quite fun to watch regardless of whether he truly lacks menace or not. The film is most enjoyable when either he or Costner are on screen, and at it's worst when Keira Knightley awkwardly bumbles her way through an American accent and the contrived nature of her character's presence. 

Limitations are also felt by Branagh's perfunctory directing, despite it being fairly snappily paced and utilising geopolitics and economics for a potentially interesting set-up. There never feels like much threat and most good scenes are undermined by stupid plotting and feeling like they could just be so much better. It's pleasing to see a return of the the classic Cold War enemy of spy films, particularly after A Good Day to Die Hard completely screwed up it's Russian setting last year, but it's still not a patch on what we've seen done in the past with either Jack Ryan films or spy thrillers in general. Matters aren't helped by some shockingly bad cinematography, with that modern "need" for action to be edited uncontrollably fast making scenes indiscernible, whilst some strange ideas about focus when it comes to the Russian scenery bemuse. 

All this leads to a thoroughly average film that never feels like it gets out of second gear, even if it still manages to offer some entertainment. Perhaps this is growing pains, but there's potential for another Jack Ryan film that could offer what really works in spy films, if Chris Pine can develop the character and we're given a more exciting and adventurous story. Oh, and no more of Keira Knightley's character, please!

Short review: American Hustle

(Dir: David O. Russell, 2013)

The greatest hustle pulled by American Hustle is the number of award nominations it's garnered this season. Perhaps there's a guilt that David O. Russell's far superior Silver Linings Playbook didn't win enough last year? The reality is that American Hustle is a film deserving of recognition for the strange combination of it's acting, music and hair. It's not a special or exceptional film in any shape of form, it's merely a good film where these elements shine. 

At what point does it become cliché to say Christian Bale is damn good in a film? Inevitably he is again here, going somewhat method with weight gain and a sleazy nature. The same can begin to be said for Amy Adams who throws around a salacious confidence that brings every man to their knees before they realise they've been played. Bradley Cooper continues on the path of wise career choices after The Place Beyond the Pines and the aforementioned Silver Linings Playbook, playing in a slightly off the cuff and mildly volatile way. Whilst Jennifer Lawrence again sheds her Hunger Games sterility in a lightly crazed but intriguing manner and Jeremy Renner is a convincingly smooth man of the people. All good con's should be based in some form of reality right? The quality of the cast is just that.

Where American Hustle falters is with it's story. It all feels blandly unexciting and seems to lose grip of what it wants to achieve as it builds and builds and begins to sprawl, culminating in a pay-off that's both unsurprising and underwhelming, but more engaging than most of what's come before. There are pockets of good stuff along the way, chiefly in the relationships between these characters, but after the first half hour or so of establishing them you begin not to care so much. The seventies vibe permeating throughout feels like a character of itself, with the intricately ugly hairstyles, bad fashion and funky music, which helps lift things but only in an intangible way. Would the film be any different set in another decade? Probably not. Acting aside, this is a curious film to be receiving such high praise as it's a long way from Russell's best work and is hampered by a lack of personality and originality. After all it's just another film about people conning people. The lethargic pacing doesn't help either and it's much longer than it needs to be. All that said American Hustle still manages to be a good film, but that's it, and if it weren't for the quality of the cast it would be almost immediately forgettable.

Short review: The Wolf of Wall Street

(Dir: Martin Scorsese, 2013)

Money, greed, drugs, debauchery. We've been there before, seen it all already. So what does The Wolf of Wall Street bring to the table to thrill us, to horrify us with? Honestly, nothing new. Here's another story of abuse of the stock market and the crazy things people do when they only exist to feed their addiction to ludes, hookers and dollar bills. Except this is a true story (apart from the bits dramatised for cinematic effect of course) yet that hardly differs it from the hue of film's like Wall Street, Boiler Room, etc. It's a three hour masterclass on how to party hard and fuck your life up. That's not such a bad thing but damn is it wearying. One act of carnage in the name of partying hard bleeds into yet another as you can but wonder how these people survived if this is an accurate representation of reality, but the film proves there is too much of a good thing as the cavalcade of narcotics and scantily clad women becomes nothing but bland wallpaper. This is a party drawn out to the point where it feels you're overstaying your welcome, and maybe that's the point, but that only forces your interest to wane.

 
The entire film hangs on Leonardo DiCaprio as Jordan Belfort. He is absolutely the highlight, totally inhabiting the manic nature of a man who's happily lost himself down the tunnel of greed and obsession. This is the third role in a row for DiCaprio playing a decadent millionaire after The Great Gatsby and Django Unchained, and it's something he's got down pat. It suits him. He's suitably aided by Jonah Hill in another of those interesting, semi-break from the norm characters he occasionally plays and succeeds in being enjoyable doing so. This is still obviously a Martin Scorsese film, even if it does frequently feel like it's Marty cutting a little loose. All the hallmarks are there in the camera work, editing and excellent attention to music. He nails the excess and the bellicose stock trading floors and manages to make a far funnier film than expected (the country club sequence being a particular highlight). Yet it all feels pretty hollow. There's nothing new here and the ultimate message is blindingly obvious, whilst the horrible effects of the evil's of corporate greed have been handled far better by aforementioned films above. And all this at an hour too long. The Wolf of Wall Street may be fun, but if it weren't for it simply being a Scorsese film and the sheer quality of DiCaprio, I doubt it'd be generating quite the same amount of hyperbolic praise.

Review: The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug

If expectations for The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey were high on the basis of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, it's fair to say that expectations had dropped considerably for The Desolation of Smaug thanks to the languid letdown that was An Unexpected Journey, even if we all know what Peter Jackson is really capable of. This second film had to inject some life into the story and deliver us a dragon. A year on from that first film and I think my review of it (read that here) was generous, as I can't help but look back upon it unfavourably, nor could I summon any motivation to sit through it again to remind myself of the story. But that doesn't matter since The Desolation of Smaug is thankfully a better film.

This proves to be a film of two halves. Initially it carries on with more of the same, as this troupe of dwarves and a hobbit trek to the mountain where they believe they will claim back what's theirs. A diversion with the elves (including the reappearance of Legolas) and the introduction of Luke Evans as Bard all offer more than we got first time round, even if none of this is particularly exciting. But more importantly there's a bit of life injected into the film as a sense of urgency to their quest builds, along with a fear of what they might meet in the mountain. Which leads to the second half where we finally meet the loquacious monster, Smaug himself. Immediately this is the best part of these two films as Bilbo's treacherous challenge arises at last and his hobbiting skills become essential. This is far more visually thrilling with the mountains of glistening gold in this cavernous room rolling ocean like around the lithe movements of the dragon. There's something pernicious lurking beneath the alluring surface.

Speaking of visuals I hunted out a 48 frames per second (high frame rate) screening, much as I did for An Unexpected Journey. And much like that first part I thought it enhanced the experience. Most of what I said about this new format a year ago still stands (you can read that here), yet this is still only the second opportunity to watch a feature shot at such high quality in your local cinema. There's still of course a period of adjustment as the first scene has an air of awkward fakeness, but that's undoubtedly a byproduct of the setting and to fully appreciate this technology we need to see it applied to a modern day set film or sci-fi. Yet again the darker action scenes are pleasingly enhanced, like everything with Smaug or very noticeably the spider attack in the woods. In this latter sequence, although we're dealing with cgi spiders, the extra clarity heightened the sense of reality and thus the terrifying nature, something which surprisingly struck me as I sat there. And again all the usual frustrating issues that come from polarised 3D were diminished thanks to the higher frame rate, bar of course the uncomfortable glasses. I'm still a firm believer in the usage of 48 frames per second and wish more directors and cinematographers were pushing to use it as I again can't wait to see more in this format.

The Desolation of Smaug is ultimately a vast improvement on An Unexpected Journey, but like that first part it too lacks not only the epic scope and depth that makes the Lord of the Rings trilogy so satisfying, but also the interesting characterisation. If the first film was an introduction drawn out to it's death, this part finally delivers some of what we've been promised, even if it still takes a while to eventually get there. As a whole this doesn't rise beyond being anything more than merely good and it's tempting to speculate what more Jackson could've done, but the answer really only is 'less'. Here's hoping the final part is not just an interesting first half and a ridiculously drawn out conclusion, after all, we're paused at a potentially exciting point. At least this has left me more curious about the final part than how uninterested the first film left me.