Immortals Review

Brace thy britches and oil thy broadsword, for verily the time for a big budget slice of epic fantasy is nigh. Forsooth! After Ironclad, Your Highness and Conan the Barbarian, 2011 hasn’t been shy of legendary tales of heroism and the relatively recent sieges of the multiplexes that were Clash of the Titans and 300 linger in the mind too in anticipation of the release ofImmortals. Has this film what it takes to stand head and shoulders above the crowd, or will we just be bored and sandals?

The thing about mythology is that any version of the story is basically a loose retelling of it anyway. Whilst students of the Greek classics may get their togas in a twist, the majority will likely have few bones with Tarsem Singh’s sketchy account of the Theseus legend (with several other bits of Greek mythology thrown in for good measure). New Superman Henry Cavill stars as the demigod done good, Freida Pinto as the oracle Phaedra and Mickey Rourke is baddy Hyperion. John Hurt, Luke Evans and Stephen Dorff also star.

Theseus and his friends must stop Hyperion, who is seeking the Maguffin Bow, a powerful weapon that he can use to unleash the imprisoned Titans, who will then destroy humanity… Wait that can’t be right, why would Hyperion want humanity destroyed? He’s human too isn’t he? Is he? Despite having a story that’s been retold for literally thousands of years, Immortals is a little thin on plot, and aspects such as motivation and characterisation fall somewhat by the wayside. What we are here for is spectacle.

And oh my, do we have spectacle.

Singh’s previous film was 2006 art-epic The Fall, a film whose visual splendour outweighed any other aspect of it whatsoever, a trait the Indian director continues in Immortals. What it lacks in depth, it sure as hades makes up for in looks. The film is visually sumptuous and a triumph of production design. The photography is fantastic, the costumes are frequently amazing and the sets are often remarkable. Even the violence (of which there is a fair amount) has a curious beauty. It may be a slightly trite platitude, but you could pick any frame from Immortals at random, blow it up and put it in an art gallery. It really is striking.

Now whether the fact that film’s a bit of a looker is enough to make you want to see it is a question of personal taste. And rest assured, it’s not that the other aspects of the film are particularly bad, just rather average. Simply put, Immortals isn’t the full package: it’s got beauty, sure, but where are the brains? Whether that’s enough to form a lasting relationship with it is open to debate. It’s rare that I would truly recommend viewing any film that isn’t at least somewhat well-rounded, but in this case I’d make an exception. It may not have much else going for it, but Immortals is a spectacle to die for.

The Three Musketeers Review

Summer is ending and the blockbuster season is coming to a close. As the sun tries mostly in vain to shine on our otherwise soggy island, Paul W.S. Anderson appears on the horizon, his goal being to bring forth the last hurrah of summer with a big budget family adventure film that the studios clearly didn’t think had what it took to tumble with the big releases that came out on a weekly basis from May to August.

The Three Musketeers loosely takes its plot from the original Dumas novel – D’Artagnan, a young bloke, decides he wants to join the legendary Musketeers Athos, Porthos and Aramis, so tracks down the semi-retired trio in Paris and goes off adventuring with them. The plot involves stolen diamonds, evil cardinals, swarthy English lords, buxom wenches, etc, etc, etc.

The film is ridiculously rubbish, totally inane, embarrassingly poor, baggier than Madness’s roomiest pair of strides and actually really rather watchable. Musketeers has an awareness of its own stupidity and its actors all mug along gamely. It may be very bad, but it’s never offensively so. Instead, it seems happy enough to raise the stakes of its own stupidity as it continues. A seventeenth century scuba diver in Venice? Why not? A son who speaks with a Californian drawl as his father talks with a ‘nu Joisey’ accent (whilst both are playing French men)? Sure! Milla Jovovich abseiling down a wall in a corset? Got it. Airships armed with machine guns that battle over the French countryside? Check. Sword fighting on the roof of Notre Dame cathedral whilst lightning flashes in the sky? Oh go on. There are moments stolen from almost any family adventure film you’d care to mention, from Indiana Jonesto National Treasure, giving it a very by the numbers feel, but nothing you can’t live with.

Anderson has assembled a cast comprised largely actors who ply their trade in second or third tier roles, which has the effect of everyone in it seeming somewhat familiar, but you’re not really sure where from. There’s Matthew Mcfayden, Ray Stevenson and Luke Evans as the Musketeers and Mads Mikkelsen, Juno Temple and Orlando Bloom (among others) bulking out the cast. Percy Jackson himself, Logan Lerman plays our hero D’Artagnan and unsuccessfully vies for the title of most annoying cast member with James bloody Corden (but it’s a telling sign that even his awful presence doesn’t ruin the movie). And then from nowhere, just when you thought he only did proper films these days, Christoph Waltz shows up doing his charming villain shtick. It’s all rather odd.

Despite its admirable commitment to ropiness and cliché, The Three Musketeers is actually pretty challenging not to enjoy at least a little bit (I tried really hard not to, honest I did). I liked the steampunk aspects – the airships, despite their utter stupidity, are pretty great and are fantastic in the battle sequences. The action scenes are clear, concise and well done and plenty of the cast are likable enough to carry the film.

It’s definitely for the kids and I wouldn’t advocate parting with cash to see it, but if and when The Three Musketeers is on some digital catch-up channel on a dull Tuesday evening, you could do a lot worse; (brace yourselves for weakest and most tenuous pun ever) E4 + 1 and one for all!

Tamara Drewe Review

Tamara Drewe concerns the titular Tamara (Arterton), who returns to the sleepy country village of her youth to sell her recently deceased mother’s home. She encounters a number of old acquaintances, such as best-selling author and serial love rat Nicholas Hardiment (Allam), his beleaguered wife Beth (Greig), local hunk Andy (Evans) and troublemaking teens Jody and Casey (Barden and Christie). Tamara also embarks on a romantic relationship with petulant rock star Ben (Cooper), much to Jody and Casey’s jealousy. Romantic entanglements and plenty of fornication ensue and the tangled lives of the villagers take turns for the humorous and, latterly, into darkness.

Despite her character’s monopoly on the film’s title, Arterton stars in what is very much an ensemble piece, In fact, Drewe herself is perhaps the most forgettable character in the film, outshone thoroughly by Greig, Evans, Barden and Christie – the latter two often threaten to steal the film entirely and are the source of much of the much of the film’s humour. That’s not to say Arterton does a bad job – far from it. Building on her impressive performance in The Disappearance of Alice Creed (one of the year’s most underrated films), Arterton is charming as the lead character, but is unfortunately underused.

Tamara Drewe is a very likable and very funny romp that rises above the average British rom-com due to its clever literary and self-referential allusions on authorship and writing and its third act plunge into dark territory. A highly recommended roll in the hay.