The Open Road Review

Sometimes, the collective charisma of a film’s cast, or even just the star-power of one great actor can mean the difference between a boring cliché-fest and an enjoyable romp. The Open Road is a film lucky enough to boast an impressive enough cast to shrug off the drag factor of its not inconsiderable flaws.

Failing baseball player Carlton Garret is summoned to his mother’s bedside. She is suffering from a unspecified heart condition (one serious enough to be of major concern, yet mild enough for the doctors to wait several days before operating for the events of the movie to take place) and must soon undergo surgery. Katherine however, is refusing to sign her consent papers until she sees Carlton’s estranged father Kyle, a famous baseball ex-pro. Carlton flies from Texas to Ohio to track down his dad, dragging along his ex-girlfriend Lucy (who has the patience of a saint). Upon finding Kyle, the pair convinces him to fly to see Katherine; at the airport however, it becomes apparent that Kyle has ‘lost’ his ID and cannot fly. The only solution is that great cinematic stand-by: the road trip, which will also provide Kyle and Carlton with the opportunity to repair their fractured relationship.

You don’t need to be in possession of clairvoyant powers to correctly guess what will happen on the road. Will Kyle and Carlton learn to love each other again? Will Carlton and Lucy realise their mistake in breaking up? Will there be thrills, spills and a happy ending? What do you think?

Fortunately, the aforementioned charismatic cast save The Open Road from being a total wash-out and turns it into something really rather watchable. Justin Timberlake stars as Carlton, Kate Mara (127 Hours, Ironclad) as Lucy, the wonderful Mary Steenburgen (The Proposal, Step Brothers,Curb Your Enthusiasm) as Katherine and Jeff Bridges as Kyle, who frankly, you could watch in anything. Ted Danson even has a brief cameo.

Timberlake provides more evidence that he is in fact a rather capable actor, though he is less suited to his role than he was in The Social Network (in which he was about as perfectly cast as you can get) and his mid-film flip out is pretty unconvincing. Bridges brings his earthy appeal to his character and pulls off what might otherwise be some pretty stolid dialogue, had it come from the lips of a great many lesser actors. It is also interesting to note that alongside Tron Legacy, this is another film in which he plays an absent father; along with True Grit, in which he played a man who becomes a surrogate father figure, it seems these has been some thematic continuity in Bridge’s recent roles. Either that or all casting directors want him to be their dad. Mara has little to do other than be pretty, charming and longsuffering, but she does that well.

So while The Open Road will not set anyone’s world alight, it is a solid and enjoyable film, buoyed by its excellent cast. Writer-director Michael Meredith would do well to exercise a little more creativity and originality in his next project; however, as it is unlikely he’ll be able to assemble such a good combination of actors every time.

Ironclad Review

For all those who were left deeply unsatisfied by last year’s Russell Crowe/Ridley Scott version of Robin Hood – and I’m guessing that that might mean a lot of people –Ironclad goes some way to make up that film’s stultifying dullness and inaction.

Set in the thirteenth century, Ironclad, directed by Jonathan English, sees King John (Paul Giamatti) reneging on the agreement he signed in the Magna Carta and attempting to retake his castles with the help of some fiendish Danes. Marshall (James Purefoy), a Templar knight, learns of his plan and, with the help of Baron Albany (Brian Cox) and his handful of mercenaries (including Jason Flemyng and Mackenzie Crook), fortify themselves in Reginald de Cornhill (Derek Jacobi) and Lady Isabel (Kate Mara, last seen in 127 Hours, rounding off a strong cast)’s Rochester Castle in an attempt to hold John off until French reinforcements arrive. The resulting siege lasts for many months and sees James Purefoy’s Templar tested to the limits of physical and, due to Lady Isabel’s affections for him, mental endurance.

Ironclad is pretty enjoyable fare that will tick numerous boxes for all fans of medieval action. Big battles? Check. Busty wenches? Check. A man wielding a sword the size of child? Check. In spite of the reasonably serious take on the historical context, there is a pleasing bonhomie and something almost approaching lightness of tone in the film. There’s an amusing ‘getting the band back together’ feel to the film’s beginning in which the mercenaries are re-recruited and the friendships and rivalries between the characters felt believable. Paul Giamatti is also enjoyable as King John and is almost certainly channelling a small amount of Alan Rickman’s Sheriff of Nottingham fromRobin Hood: Prince of Thieves in his slightly mad portrayal.

The film’s strongest asset, however, is in its realistic depiction of violence. The battles are vicious – at one point, a poor sod is cut clean in half diagonally from shoulder to hip – and really make you glad you weren’t around in the middle ages and forced to fight in them. Too often in these sorts of films are fights almost totally bloodless. In Ironclad, the tomato ketchup is thrown around with near reckless abandon, which is surely an accurate representation of what these battles were like. I also have to commend the use of location. The film was shot at an actual castle in Wales, which again serves to heighten the realism. There’s also a segment in which the castle is attacked from beneath with the creative use of some pigs, which was something I hadn’t seen before and was stunned to discover actually happened in the real life event that the film portrays. There are also lots of small instances of detail – such as the Bayeux Tapestry style rendering of Giamatti in the prologue – that are pleasing to see included.

The film does make a few missteps however. Firstly, it does get rather dull in several instances where not a lot happens – but then that’s also probably an accurate depiction of being under siege. More annoying was the ‘romance’ between Marshall and Isabel, which was spectacularly ill-judged, felt forced and was completely unconvincing. There’s also the feeling – pig attack aside – that most of what you see here has been done before. And despite the good-humour of its protagonists, Ironclad also seems to promise more fun than it actually delivers in the end, which was a little disappointing given how much the cast seemed to enjoy filming it when they were promoting it at Movie Con.

Nevertheless, the film was still pretty good and is likely to please fans of the genre. A solid and entertaining depiction of a medieval melee.

127 Hours Review

Oh no. Oh no. No no no no no. Please no. HOLY MOSES, NO!

If you cannot guess which scene in 127 Hours this transcription of my train of thought refers to and you don’t want the film spoiling, I suggest you stop reading after this paragraph. Suffice to say, Danny Boyle’s new film is a stunning, visceral and cathartic tour de force which you should see at your nearest opportunity. Got that? Okay.

For those who either aren’t bothered about the film’s major plot point being spoiled or are already aware of the circumstances of this actually rather well-known true story, read on. 127 Hours sees Boyle directing James Franco as Aron Ralston, a reckless mountaineer who finds himself in something of a pickle when, after a freak rockslide, his right becomes arm pinned between a narrow canyon wall and a rather large boulder. In utter isolation and with dwindling water supplies, Ralston (whose account of the tale is told in the predictably titled book, Between a Rock and a Hard Place) is forced to consider extreme measures in order to survive. His inventory consists of little more than a video camera, some climbing rope and, crucially, a blunt pocket knife. You do the math…

127 Hours takes a familiar trope of thriller cinema (perhaps most infamously employed at the climax of the first Mad Max film) and stretches it to a feature length study of the cost of living, human connection and survival. Instead of mere minutes in which to make his decision, Ralston is tormented for five days in situ before he finally takes up his blade and grits his teeth. It is a tribute to Franco’s considerable charisma that we sympathise with Ralston as much as we do; like The Social Network before it, 127 Hours takes an annoying, unlikable, real-life person and transforms them into a compelling cinematic character.

Boyle’s direction is, as always, excellent. Shrugging off the accusations of mawkishness that the few detractors of Slumdog Millionaire levelled at that film, Boyle proves once more to be one of the most exciting prospects in British filmmaking. The opening sequences are a visual fiesta of kinetic energy, which contrasts nicely with Ralston’s immobility for the rest of the film. Indeed, where many directors would run out of ideas after having the sole lead character confined to one place for so long, Boyle always has another visual trick up his sleeve.

Boyle’s implementation of music is second to none, with Indian über-producer AR Rahman returning to provide another original score for his second consecutive Boyle film and choice cuts of contemporary music and song (including a rather glorious use of Godlike Icelandic post-rockers Sigur Rós’s wonderful ‘Festival’ at the film’s crescendo). An obvious influence is the exceptional mountaineering disaster documentary, Touching the Void, in which the injured party in that film is tormented by Boney M’s ‘Brown Girl in the Ring’; in 127 Hours, Ralston is similarly haunted by the theme from Scooby Doo.

Of course, it would be amiss not to mention the arm-cutting scene. It is unwatchable in all the right ways; I found myself unable to look at the screen for several seconds, but was unable to block out the horrific use of sound as tendons snap and blood oozes. My own blood literally left my hands and I was left with an awful sensation of pins and needles for several minutes (though I love it when films provoke actually physical reactions). The scene has already caused fainting and vomiting at previous screenings and viewers of a nervous disposition are advised to cover both ears and eyes. However, this scene is followed by a stirring sequence of utter catharsis and joie de vivre and I left the screening room feeling totally uplifted and as if I too had shared Ralston’s torture (again, in the best possible way), survived and now had a new, exciting outlook on life. Boyle’s sense of pacing, adventure, emotion and creativity is unparalleled and 127 Hours is easily one of the best films of the year.