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Film Der was Ali G Indahouse, Dick and Dom in da Bungalow and now Mrs Brown’s Boys D’Movie. But does it signal da death of British comedy? Well, as long as Armando Ianucci keeps writing we’re probably safe, but the low art of Carry On-style camp tomfoolery is a genre probably best left in the past, and Brendan O’Carroll has driven that point home, and drove us towards the cinema fire exit. That aside, we’ve generally been left underwhelmed by Movieworld this last month. The one exception came in the form of the beautiful examination of life and all its wonders Chinese Puzzle, an expert exploration of family, love and hardship. Clint Eastwood’s musical Jersey Boys was a worthy watch but far too cute to impress, macho modern western Cold in July provided us with some almost-exciting action and Amelie director Jean-Pierre Jeunet left us feeling less than enamoured with his latest effort. It’s been one of those months where we’ve found ourselves gawping at trailers and yawning through features, but then again, in a year where we’ve been treated to an abundance of great films we can excuse a month of down-time. Brendan O’Carroll, on the other hand...
COLD IN JULY dir. Jim Mickle Starring: Michael C. Hall, Sam Shepard, Don Johnson
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01 JERSEY BOYS dir. Clint Eastwood Starring: Vincent Piazza, John Lloyd Young, Christopher Walken
MRS BROWN’S BOYS D’MOVIE dir. Brendan O’Carroll Starring: Brendan O’Carroll, David Armand, Richard Attlee, Robert Bathurst As if the British collective psyche wasn’t wounded enough by the recent years of social and economic decay, it seems one of our greatest cinematic institutions has just perished too: the overtly camp but inexplicably brilliant Brit-com romp. Mrs Brown’s Boys D’Movie really is as ignorant as its title suggests. Not only is this piece of tripe depressing in the sense of filmmaking, clogging up the cinema as it has BBC2 for the last couple of years with barely a new trick; it’s far more concerning to see its narrow minded sub texts being warranted a general release at a time where there’s very little British cinema to be invigorated by. Its ideas, the kind that would help justify anyone’s decision to vote UKIP, are precisely the ideas that are closing Britain off to the world. Low, low comedy playing on fears and ignorance of the modern age offers as much to society as 2 Girls, 1 Cup. Even though we feel this film should be deleted, Nineteen Eighty-Four style, purged from the public consciousness, we do also adhere to the notion of free speech (and distancing ourselves from shit to feel superior). But when free speech gets its punctuation right, we might just think again. It’s saddening, depressing even, to see a staple mode of British entertainment gutted and destroyed by variety show drops outs. Horrendous, dangerous filmmaking that only serves to throw an already lost society further into the wilderness.
So, Clint Eastwood has at last directed that longthreatened musical biopic of Frankie Valli’s band The Four Seasons. Adapted from the hugely (like, hugely) successful Broadway musical of the same name, Eastwood’s depiction of the story of The Four Seasons’ rise from ‘the neighbourhood’ remains lovingly loyal to the stage show – to a fault. Endorsed by a local Mafia boss, played by Christopher Walken, Frankie squeaks his way to fame with the other band members Tommy, Bob and Nick. Unsurprisingly, you can expect the film to be crammed to the brim with finger clickin’ renditions of all the hits complete with cringe-inducing smirks and jazz hands. There are also the mid-song monologues which become utterly tiresome and illuminate Eastwood’s testing adherence to the Broadway original. Clint’s typically strong directorial presence does carry the story through despite the goofy tenets forced upon him by the stage. Jersey Boys is a safe, senior film but falls short of the intense character study the biopic format can offer. We only need look back to last year’s Behind the Candelabra for a far more compelling insight into the music scene of the 1950s and 60s. However, Eastwood can now finally say he’s made Jersey Boys, even if it only provides similar levels of enjoyment to a particularly strong episode of the Antiques Roadshow.
There’s a lot of crime in Texas, so it’s always going to be a good bet setting a crime thriller there. Cold in July channels all the grit and bitterness of the contents of a spittoon into a cleverly wound up Western where there’s the law, and then there’s the law. Michael C. Hall (who you may recognise from TV’s Dexter) plays a family man who shoots and kills an unarmed intruder in his home leading to a serious prang of guilt. If this wasn’t enough, the father of the man he killed (Shepard) is seeking revenge and needless to say; he’s a fucking hardman. But wait, there’s a twist… Cold in July shifts from a domestic terror into a good ole’ fashioned Texan hoe down. Like a trashy novel (like the trashy novel it was based on, in fact), it rolls on into different landscapes and our connection with our main protagonist falls victim to a transformed narrative – though we reconnect for his brutally entertaining final act. There are also enjoyable tweaks of dark humour throughout, but the story’s themes aren’t convincingly conceived and the film’s structure is most likely hampered somewhere in the transition between page and screen – leaving our interest tailing off at the halfway mark. But still, you can’t go wrong with a blood splattering finale.
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CHINESE PUZZLE dir. Cédric Klapisch Starring: Romain Duris, Audrey Tautou, Cécile De France In our experience, romance and reflection are two silver screen themes best left in the capable hands of the French. Klapisch’s Chinese Puzzle successfully negates the uplifting and the naff with this ultramodern transatlantic fable. Romain Duris (The Beat That My Heart Skipped) plays Xavier, a Parisian writer who makes a bold decision to follow his ex-wife and kids as they move to New York. Full of beautiful French people, charm and honesty, Chinese Puzzle is a warm and compelling life/romance story. The seemingly tried and tested formula of the twists and turns of life is delivered with great love and precision by Klapisch. Duris delivers an extremely strong performance in the lead, bolstered with support from Audrey Tautou and Cécile De France, who help steer the film away from over-sentimental schmaltz and toward genuine emotion. Although Chinese Puzzle stands out in its class it falls short of being entirely original, with an all-too-familiar last minute ‘don’t let her go’ moment as Xavier sprints through blocks. But hey, we all need some smush once in a while and Chinese Puzzle delivered this particular guilty pleasure without having to sacrifice our integrity. Delightful.
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THE YOUNG AND PRODIGIOUS T.S SPIVET dir. Jean-Pierre Jeunet Starring: Kyle Catlett, Helena Bonham Carter, Judy Davis Our admiration of director Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s past work is what prompted us to take a look at his latest film, The Young and Prodigious T.S Spivet. The brandystained bizarro tale of Delicatessen, the whimsically naughty Amelie and then profoundly ... err ... watchable Alien: Resurrection had all gone down warmly with us. The titiular Master Spivet is a boy genius of around eight years of age who lives on a ranch in Montana with his dysfunctional family. He’s invented the perpetual motion machine (a machine that can power itself through its own movement) and he’s invited to receive a prize at the Smithsonian for which he’ll have to travel across America. The first thing we noted about T.S Spivet is its parallels to Wim Wenders’ Paris, Texas, both films sharing a stark European assessment of North America. As the film winds through the first act, we also become all too aware that Jeunet has been watching and very much enjoying the works of Wes Anderson. The storybook nature of T.S’s journey works well at first, but a serious lack of direction from Jeunet leaves the film in an odd limbo, somewhere between decent kids movie and hackneyed indie comedy. It’s really not as funny as it thinks it is either and the quirky comedic moments leaving us reeling, like watching a drunk uncle remorselessly fumbling at a wedding. When it comes to the inevitable moment of emotional payoff the film stumbles too, only adding to the overall annoyance of this over-fanciful and ultimately forgettable soup.
Words: Tim Oxley Smith