The Rum Diary

My eagerness to like this film might have overridden its actual worth. Since as a student I saw Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, I’ve had a fondness for Hunter S. Thompson, particularly as he’s portrayed by Johnny Depp. Although The Rum Diary is ostensibly fictitious, it’s obvious that the main character is supposed to be, or was, Thompson. It goes without saying that this is a strange film, but perhaps not in the way you’re thinking. Ignoring the details, the basic plot is that of a romantic comedy. This is what is stressed by the storyline despite the actual underlying drive of the film being towards exposing corrupt capitalism, which is somewhat sidelined. It would’ve been a much better movie, perhaps, if this message was put to the fore, and the romantic element sublimated or even avoided. Nonetheless, the light-hearted story that we have is still enjoyable, quirky, and mildly funny. Depp is once again good at impersonating his late friend Thompson, although he does not go to such extremes as he did in the earlier movie. We never really get to like any of the characters, however, which leaves us without much interest in what happens to them. Giovanni Ribisi’s character in particular is very disturbing, and not in a good way. The main issue with the film is that people unfamiliar with Thompson would probably find it odd, and fans of his would be disappointed that it wasn’t odd enough. It sits unfortunately somewhere in-between, trying to please both sets of people, but doing neither. Fans of Thompson may enjoy it slightly more, however, but this mainly comes from the ending which gives us an interesting premonition, or even justification, of the man he is to become.

Vertigo

After having recently overtaken Citizen Kane as Sight and Sound's greatest film of all time, I thought I should re-watch Vertigo. Luckily, ITV obliged by putting it on one of their channels last week. I'd seen the film a while ago, and clips of it since, but never been as excited as I felt I should be. We’re always told that the greatest works of art take maturity to appreciate. Why this should be is debatable – surely if they were great, we would like them at once? It depends on our definition of ‘great’. I think most people’s would be something like: does it reward repeated viewing? Enough has been written about this film, I’m sure, but one thing it does do is reward repeated viewing. Watching it again I began to unpick the many layers there are to this movie. It is slow, careful and subtle in the way it carries its audience along. At its centre is the impossibility of desire – what he wants is a woman who never existed. This of course appeals to modern critics greatly. We should also point to the voyeurism of Stewart’s character – this is essentially our own. We too, like him, want to stand in the shadows (the cinema) and watch what she is doing. We read her actions as a language that we must translate (she is silent until he rescues her from the river). There were still moments that frustrated me – such as the famous ‘plot hole’ when she seemingly disappears from the hotel, and the ending itself. The brutality of Stewart’s character is hard to watch. It is justified anger, but there is also something beyond this, an anger almost at his own creation. Then there is her fall – why is she afraid of the nun? Is it an accident, or does she throw herself? Lastly, what happens to Midge’s character? There is an alternate ending that shows her together with Stewart’s character, and this we assume is what will eventually happen: he’ll return to her, albeit unhappily. I return, though, to the list itself. I’ve hinted that Vertigo’s new position at the top could be down to the taste of modern critics. Philip French wrote an interesting article about the changes in cinematic fashion which is worth reading, and he backs up my conclusion. Does ranking films really mean anything? Isn’t a better system Halliwell’s star rating? The top ten doesn't include a film beyond 1968, which makes it quite meaningless to the majority of filmgoers. The appeal of ranking is strong, and induces fruitful discussion, but it is enough for me to note that Veritgo is one of the greatest films of all time. I don’t need to rank them.

Crazy, Stupid, Love

You’d be forgiven for not having any inclination to watch this film at all. Steve Carell has been struggling to make a good movie since The 40 Year-Old Virgin, and Ryan Gosling could just have been dragged in to raise the box office figures. You’ll be surprised by this film, however (although not once you’ve read this review). Carell’s character separates from his wife. He starts going to a bar to drink and complain to whomever might listen. Gosling, who uses the bar to pick up women (which he is very successful at), notices him and the two strike up a strange friendship. It’s their interaction, like a weird buddy-cop movie, that is at the heart of the film. However, just when you think the movie might be following familiar lines, it reaches a climax that is surprising, hilarious and moving all at the same time. I’m not saying this is a great film which will be ranked alongside Vertigo and Citizen Kane, but it is far better than your usual romantic comedy. It’s directed by two men, which is rare: Glenn Ficarra and John Requa, whose debut was I Love You Philip Morris. It picks carefully upon the conflict that arises due to multiple perspectives on the world – male, female, young, old, married, single. It feels like it has so much in it, and the dialogue and plot is so well worked, that I began to suspect it was adapted from a novel (it’s not). Admittedly there are moments of humour which jar uncomfortably with the subject’s seriousness, but overall this is a very enjoyable two hours – sweet, funny, and disturbing in turns.

The Fighter

Some films slip anonymously away after having been Oscar contenders, and even winners. The Fighter seems like it might belong to this category. Even though it won best supporting actor (Christian Bale) and best supporting actress (Melissa Leo), it’s hard to find anyone who has either heard of or seen this movie. Although in many ways it follows conventional sports-movie lines, Wahlberg is a boxer trying to step out of the shadow of his older brother’s success, it is not at all straightforward. Note first that it’s directed by David O. Russell, the creator of I Heart Huckabees and Three Kings. The film feels like a Clint Eastwood production aimed at Oscar success, yet it has the curious comedy of Russell’s other films as well (notably Wahlberg’s pack of weird sisters). Wahlberg, not  a great actor, is overshadowed by Bale, playing his older brother, who follows a much more interesting character development throughout the film. The problem for me with Bale’s performance is that is was so ‘method’ it was almost painful to watch at times. Instead of creating a character, he is copying a real person, which is perhaps what makes it awkward. There are poignant and moving moments in this film, but it ultimately can’t escape its fairly pedestrian sports-movie plot. It doesn’t break new ground, and rarely surprises us. It is a strange film, worth watching for some of the performances and the quirks of Russell’s style, but otherwise understandably now anonymous.

Prometheus

Before seeing this film, you should forget or ignore that it might have anything to do with Alien. I spent most of the time waiting for clues or hints as to the origin of that film's storyline, and really would’ve been better off without this distraction. Aside from perhaps the last thirty seconds, this movie stands on its own. It is an entirely new plot only tangentially connected with the Alien franchise. However, this does not mean there aren’t parallels. The structure of the film essentially imitates that of Alien, and this could be said to be its main weakness: a ship lands on a hostile planet, something bad happens, an android works at cross purposes to the crew. What Prometheus could have learnt from Alien, however, was the context in which it was set. Alien succeeds because it portrays an insignificant crew of an insignificant ship discovering a creature that wants to kill them. In Prometheus, the crew are trying to discover the meaning of our existence. There is a portentousness there, a sense of its own self-importance, which is hard to shake off. The film raises questions about life and death, but only from a certain perspective. It’s very slow in giving us any information to work with, and refuses at all to give us certain facts. The beginning, for example, is never explained. It is only with careful thought, and several leaps of logic, that one comes to realise it could be an explanation for the creation of life on earth. The film is vast and impressive, and Noomi Rapace is brilliant, but there is something perfunctory about its procedure. Nothing really excites or thrills. I would argue that this is because nothing is explained. We need some bits of information, and receive virtually none. There are too many ‘why did that happen?’ or ‘why was that there?’ questions that arise after the film. Yes, the film deliberately raises some questions which are meant to be unanswered, and this is intriguing, but there are many more which I believe should be answered. There are some other, obvious complaints too: the technology that’s more advanced than that in Alien (this was asked of the Star Wars prequels also); the underdevelopment of Charlize Theron’s character (the advertisement of her as the main character doesn’t help); the ease of finding the valley which the aliens used; and the very clichéd character of the captain. The film sticks to a reasonable two hour length, but it could easily have gone on for three hours – there’s so much material here, and perhaps this is the problem. The creators suffered from having too many ideas which when edited down leaves the audience asking too many questions. Whether this is true or not, what we ultimately have to ask ourselves is whether we’d watch it again. The answer for me is not a definitive yes, but it is a yes.

The Artist

A question I thought watching this movie might answer, has still not been answered: why is the film silent? The story is about a silent cinema actor, but that doesn’t logically mean the film itself has to be in black and white, and silent. Perhaps the intent was to put us into the world in which they existed and thought, but - eighty years later - this can only be done with an obvious, artificial pretence. You have to buy into the concept, without question, or this film won’t work for you. Jean Dujardin is brilliant, but you could call him one dimensional, and he essentially repeats his performance from OSS 117. He’s a modern silent cinema actor himself, and as such we don’t believe the more serious concerns that afflict him later on. When we focus on the story itself, we find little that really surprises or excites us – much of it has been done before: think of Tim Burton’s Ed Wood, and of course Sunset Boulevard (or even Citizen Kane to a certain extent). The novelty is in the silence (and perhaps the cute dog), but it would be unfair to say that without it the film would be nothing special. There is a great charm to this movie – something quite direct and unpretentious. The dream sequence is frightening (I initially thought it wasn’t a dream, and the movie would continue along those lines), but it brings me to my final point of irritation with the film: the ending. There can’t have been many people who were surprised or shocked at what happens, but why does it happen? Like the dream, it breaks the fourth wall (the rules we have tacitly accepted for the length of the film), and for no real reason. As I said, you have to buy into the concept of this film wholeheartedly for it to work for you. I was unable to do this.

John Carter

His name does not inspire greatness, like Indiana Jones or Sherlock Holmes do, and this lack of inspiration is something that seeps throughout the film. It is entertaining, but it’s John Carter not Luke Skywalker. Perhaps the original title: John Carter of Mars, might have been more appealing, but apparently Disney were scared of using the word ‘Mars’, a word that has always signalled box office failure in the past. That change of title, however, didn’t save the film. The movie is noted for being one of the biggest flops in cinema history, which I think is a little unfair. The more money you spend the more you have to lose, so the economics of these statistics don’t quite square up. Moreover, the film isn’t that bad, or at least not any worse than a lot of other blockbusters that have had a lot more success than it (the Transformers, Matrix, Spider-man, and X-Men sequels, for instance). John Carter, a former captain in the Confederate army during the American Civil War, is accidentally transported to Mars. If this sounds rather arbitrary and pointless, that’s because it is. There is never a reason or a purpose (unlike Luke Skywalker he does not discover that he possesses the force and is the only chance of saving the universe). Due to the lower gravitational pull on Mars, Carter is exceptionally strong and powerful on that planet, but aside from this there is nothing special about him. We do not feel any great attachment to the character, or in fact to any of the others, except perhaps a weird, dog-like creature that follows him around. Carter reluctantly gets involved in another civil war, and surprisingly takes the side which has the prettiest girl on it (a girl who is supposed to be a professor, or at least an advanced engineer, geographer, astronomer, and linguist). We then follow him through several twists and turns of fate, and I have to admit a fairly complex plot-line. The feeling of arbitrariness never leaves us, however, and this is confirmed by Carter’s enemies whose ultimate aim, it seems, is just to be evil. We have to blame the writing here, both of the original book and the screenplay. The effects, the design etc, are fantastic, but there is nothing new or inspiring in this movie. The beginning is an unnecessary mess which involves jumping between five different periods and places, before we have been able to fully understand any of them. Taylor Kitsch, who plays Carter, is fairly insipid – there are no great lines, no great looks or movements. You may enjoy the ride, as vacuous as it is, but you’ll soon find yourself thirsting after something a little more satisfying.