The Movies I Don't Review

Why is it that I watch many more movies than I post reviews of here? In an average week, I see about 3 or 4 films, but I might only review one of them. For example, in the last week I’ve watched Orphan, Small Time Crooks, Tower Heist, and Running Scared. I haven’t reviewed any of them yet. Why? Often this is because I might be re-watching films I’ve seen before, or because I’m too busy to write a review. Sometimes, I don’t feel the film is recent enough or relevant enough to modern cinema (classics are a different matter). Most of the time, however, it’s because the film hasn’t made enough of an impact on me. Sometimes I can’t even remember what films I’ve seen in a week, they’ve passed by so incoherently. It’s only if during the film, or considering it afterwards, I find something in particular which impresses or concerns me, that I’ll decide to write a review. This normally has something to do with the director, or the connections of the writer and other creators of the film. It could be something as simple as the style and the ambitiousness, or otherwise, of the director. There are many drafts of reviews languishing on my computer. These are films that seemed to interest me, but I didn’t have enough to write about (despite such short reviews as I do post). With more than 500 reviews in over five years on Stranded Cinema, the number of movies I must’ve seen but not talked about is mind-boggling. So even if my review might be negative, the very fact that I’m writing one must say something about the film itself.

Jennifer's Body

You may be forgiven for thinking that Jennifer’s Body was just another teen horror film. In many ways it is, of course, and I’m sure some people saw it as such, but there must have been a seed of doubt in their minds. The dialogue is smart and the plot is ironic and deviant. If you were in a cinema, you wouldn’t realise the reason for this until the end credits (there are no credits at the beginning): Jennifer’s Body was written by Diablo Cody. You may know her from her acclaimed debut Juno. This film is not unlike that one, except that it is firmly situated in the very gory teen horror genre. We’ve become used to writers and directors playing with genre in recent years, and some of these experiments are more successful than others. It has to be said that this is one of the least successful, primarily because the intelligent dialogue gets lost under the plot. You don’t really care what the actors are saying when someone is about to rip their chest open. Nonetheless, the film does stand out for its intention to subvert some standard narratives. The instigation of the action, for instance, is down to an insignificant indie rock band that practices satanic rituals in the hope of becoming successful. This film is enjoyably dark and twisted, but a lot of it was all done over ten years ago in Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Moneyball

I think it is almost impossible for me to review this film. I read and loved the book. When I heard it was being made into a film, and who was making it (script by Aaron Sorkin, acting by Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill, and Philip Seymour Hoffman), I was excited but cautious. The book is about a concept, rather than a story, and it is about one man, rather than a plot. Billy Beane, the general manager of the Oakland A’s and a former failed player himself, fed up with losing to teams with far higher budgets, decides to implement a new way of thinking about baseball. This is a hard thing to put into cinema, but the makers of Moneyball give it a cohesive structure, following the team through the 2002 season, with flashbacks to Beane’s attempt at a career as a player. The pacing is slightly flawed as it so often is in films adapted from real life (a close comparison would be The Social Network). The successes and failures don’t follow a natural pattern until the end of the film. Here, though, they do reach a satisfying and compelling climax. There is good music and intriguing camera movement – for example, long tracking shots – but they do feel slightly out of place. Beane’s relationship with his daughter is a curious addition and there is no mention, for some reason, of an important player and figure in the book: Nick Swisher. Besides this, the focus on Beane’s obsession with winning is compelling, especially towards the end of the film. Ultimately, Pitt perhaps wasn’t the best choice for this role. There is a great tragedy to Beane’s character which is touched on here but not as fully explored as it could’ve been. He didn’t win the World Series; he didn’t go on to manage a better team; and his methods have not been fully embraced by the baseball community. Nonetheless, as soon as it ended I wanted to watch it again, and again. This may, however, say more about my attachment to the book than the quality of the film.