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Wag The Film - May 2008

Indiana Jones: 4 times as old

May 27th 2008 03:16
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is a mediocrity, wrapped in an enigma tied up in a bow of expectation. I know, I died a little on the inside as well. That’s not to say that Indy 4 is horrid, far from it. There are plenty of mediocre films around, they’re perfectly watchable, they just also happen to be flawed and uneven. We accept mediocre films and give them fabulous box office rewards. I embrace mediocrity like the irritating little brother it is – loveable, but occasionally grating. I do not embrace mediocre Indiana Jones.

The movie opens perfectly. We’re straight in to the action, with Harrison Ford in whip-cracking form and classic retro villains all round. The period detail is right, and the political tensions of the day (reds under beds, the cast of Grease brawling in milk bars) provides a nice subtle score against which everything is set.

An ageing Indiana is struggling in his day job, when the son of a former love interest begs him to help save her from Russian rogues in South America. The son is Shia LaBeouf, who is a perfectly matched energetic and charismatic foil for our hero. The head Russian is Cate Blanchett, who is over the top and mesmerizing in equal doses. Ultimately all involved end up in a race to find the Crystal Skull, and its matching Kingdom.

So far, so Indy. The plot is a little leakier than usual, but a decade or so is bound to lead to incontinence. Almost every other character but the described three seems to be there to provide necessary information. This is a little annoying when you consider two of those characters are played by John Hurt and Ray Winstone, who are wasted. Even Marion Ravenwood, recurring from the first movie (if you didn’t know that already, you probably don’t even care about the series anyway) goes from initially invigorating to incredibly schmaltzy.

I can pinpoint where the movie ultimately jumps the shark. It’s the point when Shia starts swinging through the trees like Tarzan in order to catch up with the three car chase hurtling towards the cliff. And he’s assisted by a gang of monkeys. Indiana has never been about realism, but somehow it’s always stayed away from farce. Until that point.

Then there’s the realisation of what the Crystal Skull is (which the audience has figured out an hour earlier) which sends it into the X Files zone. At the same time, you can’t help but have the strangest sense of deja vu. It feels like you’ve seen some of these plot points before, only with Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz. Finally, as the closing credits roll, and you play the climax in your head the strangest thing occurs to you. Everything Indiana did (aside from initially rescuing his friends) ends up being completely irrelevant and pointless. His actions were actually unnecessary. This does not an equation for satisfaction make.

Most of the disappointment is our fault. We allowed this movie to be over-hyped like hype was in short-supply. Hype is never in short supply (see Sex and the City). I like to think that in a year’s time, once it’s all died away, I will be able to view this again and enjoy it the way I enjoy the first three in the franchise. All giddy adventure, less vague amusement and recognition. All the ingredients are there, it’s just the writing that runs out of puff.
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I have found it impossible to get worked up about Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day in any way. It’s a really nice movie, and yes I mean that as a back-handed compliment. It’s sweet, inoffensive, and peppered with a few lovely subtle moments. It’s also oddly bland.

In the 1930’s the titular Miss Pettigrew, brought to us by the vaguely befuddled Frances McDormand, is a failed governess in desperate need of a job. Failing that, she’ll take a meal. Improvising wildly, she finds herself in the service of aspiring actress Delysia Lafosse. We follow the pair over 24 hours as romance, hijinks and other screwball events follow – all of them inevitable.

The writing is witty, though not laugh-out-loud, and most of the performances are solid. McDormand doesn’t display her usual charismatic spark, but she remains likeable. Amy Adams as Delysia is marvellously attired, and amusingly naïve. Shirley Henderson is as close as anything comes to being hysterical, with her high-camp villainous scowl. Ciaran Hinds is boring – either a waste of talent or a character, it’s difficult to isolate.

What slows everything down is the staging. It feels like it would all make much more sense on a stage, like an Oscar Wilde-lite comedy of manners that hasn’t made the full conversion to the silver screen. The sets feel like a backlot box which in it’s own ironic way does give it a 1930’s feel. That didn’t seem like the intention though, it seemed like the result of budget restrictions.

The ominous shadow of the approaching war it well used, and everyone appears to be delighting in the period detail. The tone is right, and the pieces are there, but the whole thing lacks the kinetic spark to give it any momentum. Instead it softly treads through the screwball beats, until the whole thing completely runs out of puff.

It’s a chick flick for mum. You’ll be amused, then you might just check your watch.
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Made of Honour is Frankenstein’s romcom – it may walk and talk, but you can’t help but stare at the stitching marks. So many brilliant and mediocre films have been born into this genre’s cannon that writers everywhere must surely be banging their heads against walls in the fight to come up with an original idea. But in most cases, as in this one, it is apparent they have given up before the muse descended upon them (or not even tried at all).

I am an unashamed lover of the romcom, but even this uneven offering tried my patience. Patrick Dempsey plays uber bachelor Tom, whose only real commitment is to his friendship with Michelle Monaghan’s Hannah. Only when Hannah finds herself a strapping Scotsman and gets engaged does Tom wake up and smell the cliché. He’s in love with her. Have I ruined the twist? What follows are his varied attempts to win her, a trip to Scotland, a tree throwing competition, and then (bizarrely) an overt affection for dogs becomes a major plot point… and suddenly you’re walking out of the cinema.

If you want a masterpiece run now. If you want a mildly unconventional ending go watch My Best Friend's Wedding... there maybe something familiar about that.

A genuine highlight for me was the introduction of the acronym MOH. Also, Monoghan is charisma on a stick despite her underwritten role, and the early use of some crude slapstick humour which is quickly abandoned. There is some choice characterization from Busy Phillips as an enraged fellow bridesmaid and Kevin Sussman as the deeply odd and suitably named Tiny Shorts Guy. These wacky additions are useful, structural anomalies which offer momentary glimpes of unpredictablity. Yet all the while they’re stock characters. Slutty best friend. Odd Geek.

Dempsey is passable, attractive, but nothing more. His character is idiotic.

There will be chuckles, but you’ll walk out and won’t remember precisely why. If nothing else this is one of those movies that shamelessly returns the time-honoured tradition of line prediction. In the final 10 minutes if you haven’t picked the second half of at least a dozen sentences you aren’t even trying. Also, it’s pretty and shiny and happy, which is really the point of these movies anyway. It certainly isn’t anything else.
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Iron Man: rust resistant

May 6th 2008 04:50
Robert Downey Jr is a golden god. The problem with the heroes in so many comic book adaptations is that their everyday personas (Clark Kent, Peter Parker) are so insipid it neuters their alter ego. It seems that aside from doing a gritty re-imagining of Batman, the only certain solution to that problem is to cast Downey. Hence golden god status.

Iron Man sounds cool and relevant (playboy weapons dealer develops super suit to fight the evil he has unwittingly created), but it could have gone the other way (Jumper style selfish git, puts on expressionless super suit to protect equally expressionless face). The key to what makes Iron Man work is the casting, and the general attitude of director Jon Favreau. That attitude is smart-arsed conviction, as previously seen in the script he wrote for Swingers


[ Click here to read more ]
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