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.

Red White and Blue Review

Red White & Blue is probably the most interestingly structured film I have seen in a long time. Perhaps that’s not the most inspiring and exciting opening gambit a review has ever begun with, but after recovering from the initial shock and awe felt at the film’s conclusion, I was left with a feeling of fascination at how well the film was put together and how well its story is told. It is also slightly difficult to describe how good it is without spoiling major plot details, but I have made the attempt.

The film tells the story of three characters, Erica (Amanda Fuller), Nate (Noah Taylor) and Franki (Marc Senter). We are introduced firstly to Erica, a young woman with a predilection for frequently having sex with strangers. When Erica finds herself out of work, Nate, a strange but somewhat generous man who lives in the same building finds her a job at the DIY store where he is employed. Despite a rocky start, the pair form a fragile and tender friendship. Suddenly our attention is shifted to Franki, a young man in a rock band, who was one of several people Erica slept with at the beginning of the film. Despite his often petulant and aggressive attitude, Franki is providing care for his beloved mother, who has been diagnosed with cancer. Franki, Erica and Nate are drawn together after a second-act revelation changes the courses of all their lives and the third and final part of the film focuses on Nate.

I was impressed with the film on a number of levels. As I mentioned earlier, I thought the three-part structure worked very well in telling the plot and made my sympathies shift in unexpected ways contradictory to how they might be if the film was told with stricter chronology. The film does have its beginning, middle and end in the correct order, but there are overlaps between the character arcs and much smaller jumps too between individual scenes, causing a dreamlike effect.

I also enjoyed how the film evolved from a sort of lo-fi character drama in its dialogue-sparse opening scenes (which reminded me strongly of Año Bisiesto) to something altogether more horrific by its conclusion. The trio of leading actors all excel in their roles with Amanda Fuller impressing in particular in her utterly tragic portrayal of Erica. The film verges dangerously close to histrionic excess at one point, but writer-director Simon Rumley manages to retain the tautness of the film’s strong opening throughout the more action packed conclusion. Be warned – you may need a stronger stomach than mine to watch the shocking finale without the fast forward button to hand.

Red White & Blue is a very compelling film that is not easily pigeonholed into any one genre. In some instances, that may mean viewers could lose patience with it, but to do so would be to ignore one of the most intricate character dramas of recent memory. The various (im)moral decisions of all three characters are likely to provoke debate among those who see it as to who exactly – if anyone – is in the right. Overall however, the film leaves you with a quietening sadness and is likely to stay with you. An extraordinary exercise in storytelling.

Yogi Bear Review

Before heading into the cinema to see the new Yogi Bearfilm, I am granted the privilege of meeting and greeting the various celebrities in attendance at this gala premiere. I am happy to report that Eamonn Holmes enjoyedMorning Glory and feels (in jest I assume) thatUnstoppable was overlooked by the Oscars, Chico would be most upset if Yogi Bear were to steal some chocolate from a hypothetical picnic basket and that Jackiey Budden, mother of Jade Goody, has her autobiography due out next month.

More importantly however, was the film. Yogi Bear, who made his first appearance in 1958 has been a perennial favourite in the Hanna-Barbera canon ever since. Starring in his first non-TV movie since 1964, Yogi is now voiced by Ghostbusters star Dan Aykroyd and his companion Boo-Boo is voiced by pop star and Social Network player, Justin Timberlake. Anna Faris co-stars, with Tom Cavanagh as the long-suffering Ranger Smith, who finds Jellystone Park threatened with closure, with Yogi’s antics poised either to save the day or ruin it.

The film was preluded by a brief and reasonably amusing Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote skit before we are treated to the live action, computer animated, 3D, Yogi Bear extravaganza. Despite my feelings of nostalgia for Yogi and Boo-Boo, I was initially slow to warm to the film, which lacks much of the charm of the original cartoons, much like the similar live action Scooby Doo films. After a while, however, the pitter patter of the banter between the characters begins to amuse and Andrew Daly’s smarmy mayor in particular raises several smiles. Aykroyd and Timberlake both seem reasonably well suited to their roles and Faris is also rather pleasant as a natural history documentary maker. The colour scheme of the film is also pleasingly cheerful and Jellystone Park looks good.

Beyond the inoffensive cast and occasional flashes of wit, however, the film suffers from a dull ‘save the forest’ eco plot and painfully average execution – you may argue that it is decent enough fare for children, but when such quality films as Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, Toy Story and last month’s Tangled are all competing for children’s attention, Yogi Bear doesn’t really hold a candle. And despite a healthy predisposition towards keeping the action old-school, there are several cringy moments wherein Yogi dances to Baby Got Back and the seemingly ubiquitous Don’t Stop Believin’, which feel uncomfortably modern for a bear that had his heyday in the 1960s.

So despite not being totally rubbish, Yogi Bear just isn’t quite good enough to stand out from the pack of quality kid’s cinema these days. Still, it’ll keep sprogs happy for eighty minutes and may even charm a few grownups who hold fond memories of this smarter-than-average bear.

The Dilemma Review

Vince Vaughn arguably hasn’t had a leading role in a decent film since 2004 with Dodgeball, which seems like an awfully long time ago. And whilst The Dilemma does not really hail a glorious comeback, it is something of an interesting failure.

Ronny and Nick (Vaughn and James) are best friends and business partners on the cusp of sealing a major deal with Dodge automobiles, having successfully pitched their idea for an electric car engine that provides the same revs and rumbles as a gas-guzzler. Things become problematic, however, when Ronny spies Nick’s wife Geneva (Ryder) kissing another man (Tatum). Ronny’s titular dilemma is how and when to tell Nick about Geneva’s infidelity and whether telling him sooner rather than later will compromise Nick’s abilities in the engine room in the crucial week before their big presentation. Ronny’s increasingly secretive nature also jeopardises his own relationship with Beth (Connelly). The action is directed by Ron Howard.

In its original draft, I’m willing to bet that The Dilemma’s script was actually very good – despite the film’s frothy, friendly, advertising campaign, the picture is actually surprisingly dark at times. Ronny’s previous gambling addiction informs much of the action and his friends’ suspicions of him. The effects of infidelity on lovers and friends are also portrayed with something approaching brutal honesty. Unfortunately, the film has rather obviously been rewritten into a rather tamer beast, possibly at the behest of its director or star.

A more mainstream-friendly rewrite is not the film’s only problem. Drastic shifts in tone, an uneven focus on the engine-development subplot, rather outdated usage of the word ‘gay’ and a slow start to the humour don’t help the film. Women are given something of a short shrift in the film. Jennifer Connelly is lumbered with dull role and given little opportunity to shine and Winona Ryder’s ‘bitch’ role seems reductive of the more complex issues hinted at in the script and is also a rather annoying stereotype. Whilst Ryder’s character takes whatever flak is thrown at her, the menfolk are seemingly beyond reproach. There are also several weird flaws in the plot – the strand that discusses Nick’s visitations of massage parlours is never resolved and it seems strange that Ronny wouldn’t tell Beth about Geneva’s unfaithfulness straight away, rather than risking their relationship. There’s also a needless layer of extra jeopardy added between Geneva and Ronny that serves very little to the plot.

There are other flaws too, but to list too many would distract from the film’s strong points. The cast give generally decent performances and Vaughn in particular redeems himself somewhat for the recent tripe he has put his name to with a good comic performance (his toast at Beth’s parents’ anniversary party being an obvious highlight). Channing Tatum is also surprisingly funny as Geneva’s younger lover and Queen Latifah also raises a smile in a minor role. The charm of the cast, some genuine, if infrequent moments of humour and the central conundrum of the plot saveThe Dilemma from being a total car crash. Whilst it is perhaps too problematic to justify parting with ten pounds at the cinema, it may enjoy more interest on DVD. And even if you don’t like Vince Vaughn, you can console yourself with the frankly astonishing frequency with which he gets smacked in the face in the film.

Morning Glory Review

The setup for Morning Glory seems promisingly funny, if unlikely to rip up any rulebooks. Roger Michell (Notting Hill) directs spunky television producer Rachel McAdams, who is given a tough break in charge of an ailing breakfast television programme (which, in an amusing coincidence, is called Day Break), to which she manages to lure Harrison Ford’s crotchety and serious newscaster as a new presenter. Ford’s commitment to hard journalism and general misanthropy clashes with the triviality of the show, his co-anchor Diane Keaton and McAdams’s positivity. Comedy, surely, ensues.

It feels wrong to criticise a film that seems to try so hard and has plenty of good things going for it, but Morning Glory is terribly lacklustre, utterly predictable and painfully average. Those good things going for it include an impressive cast – Ford, Keaton and McAdams are flanked by Patrick Wilson and Jeff Goldblum – a buoyant central character and some amusing sparring between Keaton and Ford. The latter is wonderful on screen and draws attention like some sort of cinematic black hole, warping the very fabric of the film around him, to utilise a rather eccentric metaphor. His acerbic comments are delivered very amusingly. Keaton is another charismatic screen presence, but is underused. McAdams’s character is a reasonably decent female role model, but is reduced to waddling around in her pants in a couple of instances. There’s also an all too brief cameo fromModern Family’s Ty Burrell, arguably the funniest man in American television right now (though that is possibly not an argument you would win).

It comes as no surprise to learn that the film’s script is written by Aline Brosh McKenna of The Devil Wears Prada fame. No surprise, as the plot of Morning Glory is nearly identical – a young woman enters high powered workplace and experiences trouble with an older, unpleasant colleague. Eventually, however, she earns their respect and finds success and love. The plot goes nowhere you wouldn’t expect it to and a very false of jeopardy is created by some totally arbitrary deadlines. You’ll also see the final payoff coming a mile away.

The central conceit of Ford’s character – who pertains that the news is scared and under threat from the influence of crass entertainment – is rather undersold too: as McAdams further dumbs down Day Break, its ratings go up, yet there is little indictment of this or any negative outcome, or any real discussion of the issue at all. Surely a film should expect its audience to be able to handle a more complex debate than that?

Ultimately, the film is a disappointment, not really because it is particularly bad, but because it failed to live up to its potential, a true shame given the calibre and talents of its cast and of Harrison Ford in particular. One wonders how closely art imitated life in this film: was Ford unwillingly herded into a fluffy feature that is quite possibly beneath him? A bigger dose of his character’s nasty streak and a curbing of its more sentimental sensibilities would have doneMorning Glory a lot of good. As it stands, the edgiest thing about it is its poorly chosen title.

Season of the Witch Review

As an unashamed Nicolas Cage fan, it was heartening to witness the star’s run of form in 2010. Excellent turns in Kick-Ass and Bad Lieutenant (one of my films of the year) proved Cage to be the go-to-guy for unbridled dementia. The damp squib that was The Sorcerer’s Apprentice may not have achieved such heights, but as a 300 pound Texan once said, two out of three ain’t bad. Hopes were high then, that Cage would continue to impress with Season of the Witch.

The film stars Cage and Hellboy himself, Ron Pearlman, as medieval crusaders, who part ways with their comrades after becoming disillusioned by killing in the name of a supposedly benevolent god. They return to a country non-specific, which they find ravaged by plague. The local authorities deem the plague to be the doing of a young girl they have decided is a witch. Under duress, Cage, Pearlman and a selection of others are tasked with escorting the girl to a monastery for her witchcraft to be undone.

Season of the Witch is either enjoyable nonsense or a total dog’s dinner depending on how forgiving you are of cinematic stupidity, how many beers you’ve had and whether or not it’s ten o’ clock on Saturday night and nothing else is on. If you answered, ‘very’, ‘several’ and ‘yes’ to those three conditions, then you will no doubt enjoy Season for the romp it wishes to be. Otherwise, you may struggle to be impressed.

The film is stuffed to the gills with unoriginality – there’s a spot of the previous year’s Sean Bean starrer, Black Death, a dash of The Last Exorcism’s ambiguity (for a while), a vague air of Witchfinder General and Twilight’s naff CGI wolves to be noted in proceedings. There’s a certain ‘seen it all before’ feeling that mars the film throughout – up to and including a ‘cross the rickety rope bridge over the chasm of doom sequence’. Actions set-pieces are met with audience indifference, the special effects are no great shakes and the direction by Dominic Sena (Swordfish, Gone in 60 Seconds) is workman-like. It’s also a shame Cage doesn’t utilise his British accent.

The film does retain some charm in its occasional scares and its better than average cast, which includes the aforementioned Cage and Pearlman, Stephen Graham (This is England, The Damned United), Robert Sheehan (the gobby, immortal one from Misfits) and a cameo from an unrecognisably plague-scarred Christopher Lee. TV’s Claire Foy satisfies as the witch, but other than that, the cast don’t particularly impress, despite their accumulative on-screen charisma. Sheehan is wasted in a straight role – a crime given how natural a comedic performer he is. You keep expecting his earnest altar boy to crack a few unspeakably rude jokes, but to no avail.

Indeed, a healthy dose of humour could have improved the film no end. Whilst Season of the Witch may have pretensions of seriousness (a prevailing theme being the misappropriation of religion), what is required is a more full-blooded boy’s own adventure, with its tongue relocated to its cheek. There are merely two funny moments, one of which was unintentional (wherein Pearlman literally head-butts a minion of Satan – twice). An expansion of the supporting character’s pasts would also have been an improvement – a history between the accused witch and Stephen Campbell Moore’s priest Debelzaq is alluded to, but never elaborated on. Whilst these things would not have made Season of the Witch a classic, they would surely have made it a more memorable and enjoyable film than the stodgy filler that it is.