andrewhatesmovies

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Blue is the Warmest Colour (La Vie d'Adèle), Abdellatif Kechiche

So I saw this yesterday. It was really, really good. I can understand the uproar towards the film, specifically the sex scenes (and boy are they strikingly explicit!) but I completely disagree. I think the sex scenes, as graphic and interminably long as they are, not only contribute but wholly establish the central point of the film. Its enormous length (180 mins) never seemed to drag and it was admirable and complementary how the director gave the scenes room to breathe. At times the narrative was on the clichéd side of films that depict an exploration of sexuality and there were one or two brief moment that took me out of the film but ultimately it was a fantastic portrait with provocative performances from all involved.

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Andrew Hates... The Bling Ring

Dir: Sofia Coppola, 2013

A group of spoiled, glamour-hungry teens decide to take advantage of the naivety of the socialite celebrities of the Hollywood Hills. Using gossip websites to track the stars’ schedules and Google Maps to pinpoint their addresses, the “Bling Ring” enter through unlocked doors and repeatedly raid the wardrobes of Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and many others.

Sofia Coppola clearly has some form of obsession with the vacuous nature of celebrity lifestyle. Maybe it’s due to her upbringing with her father dragging the family all over the world, I’m not really sure and I don’t really care. But as evident through her style, it seems as though the language barriers and the razzle-dazzle and the long stays at the Chateau Marmont have left such an impression on Coppola that she just can’t imagine anything else. So I’m sorry to say that a filmmaker without imagination has no place making films.

The Bling Ring constitutes teen fashionistas going to celebrity homes, wowing over their swag and then wearing said swag to their favourite nightclub. Wash until glistening, rinse and repeat for roughly an hour. The problem with The Bling Ring is it is a news story, nay, a Vanity Fair article that was inadequately transformed into a Comic Sans screenplay. David Fincher’s The Social Network took the idea of online communication, showed its development and established its importance on a global scale. The Bling Ring attempts to make the same form of commentary through characters as transparent and devoid of connection as the film’s Los Angeles setting. There is no empathy for the main characters nor is there empathy for the victims.

It’s entirely possible or even probable that the blank, conventional format of The Bling Ring is an intentional directorial approach from Coppola. That the dialogue that consists primarily of “Shut up”, “Wow” and “Let’s get the f*** out of here” is as natural to the characters as it feels unnatural to us. That despite the good performance from Emma Watson, hers and the other characters are meant to tread on our nerves swiftly and brutally. Unfortunately, all of the above combined with the thirty minutes of material stretched to a malnourished ninety don’t make for an entertaining experience, proving Coppola to be the arthouse equivalent of Michael Bay.

Sofia Coppola is in a state of mind-numbing limbo, where she regurgitates vessel after vessel of replicated superficiality that is as shallow as a puddle and has the same level of captivation. The Bling Ring is no different, portraying hollow, emotionless characters in a hollow, emotionless world that provides momentary captivation due to its real-life resonance but founders in the hands of a one-trick pony director.

★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆

Watch the trailer here.

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Andrew Hates... Behind the Candelabra

Dir: Steven Soderbergh, 2013

Scott Thorson, a young animal trainer for Hollywood films, is introduced to Liberace (“Call me Lee”) backstage at one of his Las Vegas concerts. Immediately taking a liking to one another, Scott moves in with Lee and they begin a romance which would come to define the last ten years of Liberace’s life and change his legacy forever.

“It’s funny that this crowd would like something this gay”, states Matt Damon’s Scott Thorson during Behind the Candelabra’s opening Liberace performance. To which Scott Bakula’s character replies, “Oh, they have no idea he’s gay”. In essence this exchange sums up the entire film as Soderbergh (with the help of Thorson’s source material) peels back the synthetic surface of what was Liberace’s fame and reveals an intimate, no-holds-barred glimpse into a remarkable relationship conflicted by, in a word, identity.

As mentioned previously, we first meet Liberace through the eyes of 17-year old Scott Thorson during a magnificent rendition of the Boogie Woogie that razzles and dazzles in the ways that Mr Showmanship excelled at. After that, we strip away the piano but not the pearls and are introduced to Lee, who Michael Douglas slips into like a rhinestone-studded glove. Though kitted in cosmetics aplenty, Douglas avoids wearing his role like a mask, as we do get with so many of those heavy-handed biopic portrayals. Douglas becomes Liberace - diva incarnate - exhibiting so much gusto that it’s almost bursting through the screen. However it’s Matt Damon who has the harder role as the impressionable and youthful viewpoint, unsure as to his orientation and suddenly strewn into a new world in which wealth is lavished upon him. Fortunately, Damon is equally superb as Douglas, though his role is slightly reminiscent of his turn as Dickie Greenleaf in The Talented Mr Ripley.

The story is hardly complex and it’s all a mite predictable but none of that matters to the enjoyment of the film. Rob Lowe is hilarious as Lee’s waxed, stretched plastic surgeon who looks more mannequin than man and Dan Akyroyd grounds the film just enough as the frustrated agent, tired of dealing with the Liberace’s short-lived affairs. It’s simply a shame that Behind the Candelabra was released as a HBO TV movie in the States and is therefore ineligible for any Academy Awards, for this might be the finest performance Michael Douglas has ever given while also being one of Soderbergh’s best pictures.

Bound by vulnerable performances from a committed cast, Behind the Candelabra is a marvellous and heart-warming presentation of the hidden life of Liberace - one that is flamboyant and comical but refrains from slipping into tasteless caricatures. Soderbergh expertly crafts a perfect blend of style and subtlety, capturing one of the most peculiar relationships the world has never seen.

★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

Watch the trailer here.

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Andrew Hates... World War Z

Dir: Marc Forster, 2013

When a sudden outbreak of a zombie virus sweeps across the globe, former United Nations investigator Gerry Lane is called back into action. In order to keep his family safe, Lane is tasked with locating the origin of the virus so that a vaccine may be developed.

There have been many page-to-screen adaptations that have left fans of the source material a little vexed. The Lord of the Rings enthusiasts were disappointed with Peter Jackson’s omission of minor character Tom Bombadil. Readers of graphic novel Watchmen found Zack Snyder’s depiction overly loyal to Alan Moore and Dave Gibbon’s classic. Such is the prospect that you can’t please everyone. But when Brad Pitt bought the rights to Max Brooks’ acclaimed World War Z – a book of fictional interviews that switches characters every few pages – and attached himself to star, suffice to say there was a radical backlash from fans. So how does one adapt a zombie novel with such a unique perspective on narrative? Pitt’s answer is evidently you don’t.

Marc Forster’s socio-political horror begins with an explosive action sequence in which we go ground-level in a chaotic Philadelphia, where millions are reacting to an immediate zombie epidemic. Eventually Pitt’s family are airlifted to a military base and as quickly as the film bursts into a hysterical rampage, it slumps into state affairs and military operations. This is more surprising due to Drew Goddard’s penning of the third and final rewrite of the screenplay, the man who brought us Cloverfield which was praised for its intimate interpretation of an alien invasion.

World War Z’s shortcomings are a clear indicator of its troubled development and frequent rewrites. Forster wrangles that tension which horror films need well (though no doubt he is a puppet director for Pitt) and the set pieces are entertaining, if a little formulaic, but unfortunately the film falls victim to that recurring built-for-the-trailer genre. The opening riot scene is brilliant and the third-act plane crash is commendable but these are brief interludes in a tenuous film which frequently causes the audience to wonder when the next scene from the trailer will come along.

As a repercussion of radically straying from the source material, World War Z borrows elements of genre films from 28 Days Later to 30 Days of Night while cramming the timeframe despite multiple long trips across the globe. World War Z may well be an example of too many writers spoiling the script but not as much as an example of sheer capitalist cinema. The violence is toned down to a bare minimum, joined by the redundant inclusion of 3D and a resolution so baffling that Roland Emmerich will probably feel better about Independence Day’s computer virus shtick. Forster does his best but World War Z is merely a been-there, done-that zombie film which mildly entertains and is ultimately forgettable.

★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆

Watch the trailer here.

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Andrew Hates... Much Ado About Nothing

Dir: Joss Whedon, 2013

During the preamble to Claudio and Hero’s dream wedding, the soon-to-be-newlyweds and their group of friends plot to have warring singletons Benedick and Beatrice recognise their true feelings for one another.

Almost two years ago, once principal photography had wrapped on what would turn out to be the biggest superhero movie of all time, Marvel head Kevin Feige gave director Joss Whedon two weeks off for him and his wife to celebrate their 20th anniversary in Venice. Instead (at the behest of his wife), Whedon made Much Ado About Nothing. Here is proof that Joss Whedon is a filmmaker’s filmmaker – a man who loves creating art and the key ingredient to this Shakespearean success is the unmistakeable presence of that very passion in each and every frame.

To those who refer to this niche little black-and-white indie as a palette cleanser or an antithesis or an arch-nemesis (to dwell in the comic book world), I say “nay” for there is naught in Much Ado About Nothing that Joss Whedon hasn’t shown us before. Okay, we can swap spandex for formalwear, spaceships for Sedans and a half-ruined New York City for a Santa Monica townhouse. Nevertheless, Much Ado is yet another addition to the astonishing pile of work that Whedon can attribute to that undisputed work ethic and the unbridled adoration for their craft that every person he collaborates with can attest to.

Whedon assembles his other super-group of actors, filling the screen with Buffy, Angel, Firefly and Dollhouse alumni, and in doing so demonstrates not the enormity of his rolodex but the extent of his family. The Shake-speak may at times be a little indistinct, what with the actors sweeping through it as though it were song, but the superbly bombastic manoeuvres of Whedon’s sublime cast keep us in tow and never cease to delight. Clearly, these are actors who are enjoying themselves tremendously and sharing that enthusiasm with their audience. As far as the leading lovers go, Alexis Denisof is arrogant though charming and Amy Acker rough yet sweet – a match made in Heaven that baffle as to why their careers have been restricted to post-credits sequences and television guest spots. Rounding out the supporting comic roles is a hilariously buffoonish Nathan Fillion playing Dogberry and Clark Gregg as Leonato, in a performance that triumphs on Gregg’s facial expressions alone.

It may not revolutionise your mindset or indeed stay with you for long but Joss and company excel in the area of low-budget production and set an example for budding filmmakers everywhere. Much Ado About Nothing is as intimate as any home movie without being beleaguered by amateurism. Whedon invites you into his home literally and spiritually, revelling in his adaptation of a text that is as dear to his heart as any of his other projects.

★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆

Watch the trailer here.

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Andrew Hates... Man of Steel

Dir: Zack Snyder, 2013

On the faraway dying planet of Krypton, Jor-El and Lara dispatch their newborn son to Earth, along with the means to prolong their race, before Krypton is destroyed. Raised by foster parents who urge him to keep his identity secret, the boy adopts the name Clark Kent and through his lineage develops superpowers. Now fully-grown, Clark encounters the traitorous Kryptonian General Zod, who means to destroy Clark’s new home.

Upon completing his Dark Knight trilogy, Christopher Nolan enlists Zack Snyder to do for Superman what Batman Begins did for the Caped Crusader. After a bombastic opening in which Russell Crowe and Michael Shannon snarl at each other with a backdrop of Star Wars prequels meet Apocalypse Now, Man of Steel leaps right into the life of a self-exiled Clark Kent. Most films, particularly origin stories, feature an overtly prominent character arc. For instance if your first projection of Superman is one where he’s in hiding, debating his own morality and struggling to find his place in the world, then the rational third-act standpoint for his character is fighting for truth, justice and the American way. Snyder explores this inner conflict and emphasises it in some notable scenes with Kevin Costner but it’s all too easy. The laborious progression into heroism is absent because this is not the story of Clark Kent nor even Superman. This is an account of Kal-El, the last son of Krypton.

For a film about a hero faster than a speeding bullet, Man of Steel’s narrative is painfully slow to the extent where a bullet sounds appetising. David S. Goyer’s screenplay nods its head to many films from The Matrix to Inception but I hesitate to anthropomorphise the script for fear of creating the misconception that there is any life in it. The first two-thirds of the film consist of several scenes linked together in as sanctimonious a fashion as the comic book world has ever seen. Topped off with a third act that is an overwhelming indulgence of SFX porn the likes that would transform Michael Bay into (even more of) a lecherous wretch. Man of Steel’s gruelling banality swells and swells until you’re being begged to poke holes in the film. Now some would call dwelling on the inconsistencies of such a film’s breed of fantasy-science nitpicking but when the story is a loud, muddled outburst of chainmail tentacles, magical fertility skulls and the destruction of every building ever constructed ever, you’ll permit me my pointing out of minor plot errors.

Possibly Man of Steel’s greatest shortcoming is its inability to promote empathy for its protagonist. On that note, let’s backtrack a little. Christopher Reeve donned the red cape because he had charm, confidence and a strong chin. Brandon Routh headlined Bryan Singer’s underrated Superman Returns because of his uncanny Christopher Reeve impersonation. With Henry Cavill, Snyder is clearly trying to replicate the brooding nature of Christian Bale’s Batman but shoots himself in the leg by presenting a comparison between the two. Ultimately, Batman has more to offer audiences and it can be boiled down to the simple, basic fact that he’s human. There are rare bully-related encounters where Cavill erupts and a vision of caged anger jolts an interest in the character but when overshadowed by the vacancy of Cavill’s performance and paired with the nomadic first act, Superman begins to look like Wolverine on Xanax. Prior to the finish, a female army captain comments that Superman is “kinda hot” in such a bizarrely offhand manner that it sounds as if Snyder is justifying his hiring of Cavill in the first place. Nice try Zack, but I wouldn’t advise seeking absolution from die-hard comic fans.

The other performances are either jaded or draw from shallow wells. Amy Adams’ clichéd role of the passionate researcher in that of Lois Lane contributes nothing except that of the compulsory flailing damsel to be plucked up in mid-air by the rugged hero – I wonder what a superhero blockbuster without a love interest would be like. Shannon’s scenery-chewing, erratic portrayal of General Zod is formidable, if not for being drowned in an obnoxious demonstration of CGI gone wild. Returning to Man of Steel’s emotional core, Snyder is torn between two father figures and therefore giving neither of them any lasting impression. Crowe’s deceased Jor-El flaunts about the film, his presence there supplied via a Superman USB flash drive, and Costner’s Jonathan Kent delivers Uncle Ben speeches whose poignancy is drained by a cameraman who seems to have had one too many cups of coffee. Case in point, when your film’s dramatic summit is the stereotypical sub-plot of freeing an arbitrary character from her prison of rubble in the final act, you’ve got a deeply serious problem.

Nolan and Goyer’s bleak re-envisioning of Superman falls flat due to a lack of the fundamental albeit discreet campiness that breathes life into the character. Pair that with a director who simply cannot draw from his actors and has a fetish for brash, uncontrollable action orgies, Man of Steel is a wasteful bastardisation of a comic book hero whose rugged side is yet to be shown with any tact and probably never will – unless you count Unbreakable.

1/5

Watch the trailer here.

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Andrew Hates... Byzantium

Dir: Neil Jordan, 2013

Mother/daughter vampire duo Clara and Eleanor Webb have been drifting through coastal England for over two hundred years, never finding a place they can settle. This is due to their being hunted by ‘The Pointed Nails of Justice’, a purist clan of male chauvinist bloodsuckers. Clara, desperate to provide for her daughter and Eleanor, an idealistic teenager who fantasises of a better life, come to stay at the deserted Byzantium hotel where fate drastically threatens their future together.

Byzantium is Neil Jordan’s second venture into the vampire world, the first being his successful adaptation of the Anne Rice novel Interview with the Vampire. In the same mindset as before, Jordan feels inclined to emphasise immortality as an affliction but portrays the lugubrious attraction of it nonetheless. Fair warning, this is not The Lost Girls. Though a lot of action takes place around a seaside carnival, there is none of the predatory yet sexual stalking that we saw with Schumacher’s Neverland gang. Instead, Byzantium offers more than its share of skulking, moping and prostitution-aplenty. Jordan’s concentration is on how the past affects his characters now and thusly tiring the audience with that lazy, vampire teen angst thread – Byzantium’s Saoirse Ronan/Caleb Landry Jones romance resembles a Bella/Edward gender reversal which is eager to tap into that younger target audience.

The present-day narrative trudges along until there are brief interludes which portray the origins of Clara and Eleanor’s ennoblement with vampirism. With these flashbacks, Jordan really amplifies the gothic tone of the film in an attempt to contrast the even bleaker future that his characters now live in. Special mention must be given to DP Sean Bobbitt (of Shame and The Place Beyond the Pines fame), who forces each scene to swell with depth and texture.Byzantium might be altogether too cold a film but the cinematography is just right. These exuberant scenes that include perilous boat journeys, cascades of crimson blood and a shamefully-underused Sam Riley are rich with enough classic horror tropes to serve as a superb opening to any monster movie. Unfortunately these scenes are few and far between and muddled by flashbacks within flashbacks, providing a craving for a linear format.

It’s strange to see a filmmaker as grounded as Jordan in such a state of confusion, juggling an array of themes but refusing to focus on any one of them. Moira Buffini’s script is horrendously haphazard and leaves an impression of apathy that increases as the film meanders toward its anticlimactic finale. As stated, there are some nice homages to the works of Bram Stoker and Edgar Allen Poe but the bizarre modifications to the vampire folklore and their modus operandi are detrimental to any possible emotional connection to the film. In short, there are only so many ingredients one can remove from the vampire formula before your compound changes.

Irrespective of each specific work’s tone, films of the horror genre should demonstrate the filmmaker’s ability to both have fun and gift the audience with it. Byzantium does neither and the gloomy, monotonous performance of Saoirse Ronan is only tolerable for so long. A similar effort to Oliver Parker’s recent re-telling of Dorian Gray, Byzantium joins the uninspired ranks of British gothic horror in that the tone is dark, the imagery chilling but the film never gets off the ground, resulting in a wasted effort that contains a good story but ultimately withholds it from the audience.

2/5

Watch the trailer here.

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Andrew Hates... Fast & Furious 6

Dir: Justin Lin, 2013

Special Agent Hobbs tracks Dominic Toretto to his secluded luxury home in an effort to enlist Dom in catching criminal mastermind Owen Shaw, securing his assistance by showing proof that Dom’s believed-dead girlfriend Letty is alive and well. In order to reunite with Letty, Dom must bring the old team back together to apprehend Shaw and obtain pardons for their past crimes.

It’s safe to say that no-one comes to a franchise like Fast & Furious for character studies or sharp dialogue. That being said, it’s still disappointing when any film has a complete and utter lack of both. Fast Five’s amusing blockbuster action was also topped off by a lovable, kick-ass antagonist in Dwayne Johnson’s slightly-conflicted supercop. While Fast & Furious 6 has a tremendously nefarious villain in Luke Evans’ Owen Shaw, warmly reviving that age-old English baddie stereotype, there is no conflict to be seen throughout the film. The characters are split straight down the middle – the evil being very, very evil and the good being painstakingly good. That’s all well and fine as far as action movie conventions go if it didn’t make the protagonists so relentlessly boring. Evans clearly relishes his limited yet maniacal turn as Shaw and holds by far the strongest role in the film. A scene in which Shaw, armed with a tank, steamrolls innocent civilians spotlights his character’s pure savagery, thus reinforcing the support of the protagonists and providing one of the franchise’s best and most ludicrous moments yet. But when Shaw isn’t around to chew the scenery and drown puppies, any encouragement the audience should be giving the team of way-too-many heroes fizzles, especially when Diesel and company start droning on about “family”.

Lin handles the plot in an overly-eccentric manner, trying to convince audiences that the more the characters rant in automobile vernacular, the more intellectual the film is. Whenever Shaw’s wicked plan is discussed in all its effluent complexity, bells ring of Team America’s “9/11 times a thousand” gag. There are several unnecessary distractions to divvy screen time between the surplus cast and uses of popular MacGuffins including amnesia, bullet diagnostics and astoundingly-lengthy airport runways. Some are accepted as foregone conclusions of popcorn cinema but most exist for no other reason than to add minutes to the clock.

There are many moments where the film’s clichés are laughably atrocious and just as many when they are downright mortifying. Lin’s vision of London resembles a Grand Theft Auto translation of England’s capital that becomes more of a caricature as the film lingers there. Lin’s depiction of an exotic world of street racing and its cries of “London, baby!” will either frustrate or tickle audiences, possibly both. On the other side of the coin, the action scenes are bloated, the characters bothersome and the deliberate comedy is as callow as it gets. It’s hard to determine whether fourth-time-around writer Chris Morgan’s creativity has been sucked dry or if Fast & Furious 6 represents a franchise that has ran its course. Either way, it doesn’t look like this family will be going anywhere soon, with a July 2014 release set for FF8.

Fast Five upgraded a series that was dead in the water to an action-heist franchise. Fast & Furious 6 sees further evolvement as we now head toward Expendables territory. Lin’s last outing perched in the director’s chair is sure to make trunk-loads of money but fails to give as many reasons to return as its predecessor did.

2/5

Watch the trailer here.

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Andrew Hates... Bernie

Dir: Richard Linklater, 2013

In the small-town of Carthage, Texas, the most beloved member of the closely-knit community is local funeral director Bernie Tiede. After her husband’s funeral, Bernie befriends millionaire Marjorie Nugent who is infamous among the townsfolk to say the least. This unlikely relationship blooms for several years but when Bernie finally snaps and kills Marjorie, he must keep up the charade that the mean-spirited widow is alive and well.

It’s rare that Jack Black delivers a performance that doesn’t result in either scatting or bellowing until his face turns red. Black is at his best when dialled down (see High Fidelity, King Kong) and Bernie is his most subtle portrayal yet. In a clever move, the cast of talking heads recruited to reinforce the townspeople’s support of Bernie are a mixture of actors and real-life citizens of Carthage, giving weight to the unnerving sense of authenticity that Linklater & Skip Hollandsworth’s screenplay was predisposed on. The unfortunate shortcoming of this aspect is we have too much time spent talking about Bernie and not enough insight into the character himself. When Jack Black gives a rare performance of this calibre, why is it being so shockingly underused?

As much of a black comedy as Bernie claims to be, no-one seems to find the story as funny as the director himself. Linklater treats the material very light-heartedly but there is no comedic weight to the events, be it dark or otherwise. This fascinating true story captivates via its faux-documentary style and a cast who assimilate their characters in an almost congenital manner but if laughter was Linklater’s agenda, it appears the script was lacking the confidence to achieve such a goal. Linklater claims the script’s dreariness caused problems until he promised a humorous result. One would imagine that a filmmaker as distinguished as Linklater would know that if something’s not on the page, there’s little reason it should be present in the final product.

This remarkable true story is wholly encapsulated by Linklater’s sharp but simple vision of Hollandsworth’s 1998 magazine article. While Linklater touches on themes of law and morality, the charming yet fraudulent title character is treated so politely that it slightly undervalues the tale being told. The limited cast is rounded out by a devilishly aggravating Shirley MacLaine (who reminds you of that impossible-to-please grandparent) and Matthew McConaughey’s district attorney, who is flabbergasted by the town’s refusal to share his law-abiding principles. However, Bernie’s relative success hinges on Black’s central performance, which is superb in its unexpected modesty.

3/5

Watch the trailer here

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Andrew Hates... Warm Bodies

Dir: Jonathan Levine, 2013

R is a zombie who, along with his undead cohorts, is aimlessly wandering through a post-apocalyptic wasteland. While the other zombies are searching for human flesh to feast on, R is searching for a meaning in his “life” – and also flesh to eat. However when he consumes the brains of Perry, R gains Perry’s memories along with his affection for his girlfriend Julie. As R’s love for Julie grows, it sets off a reaction that may just promise a cure for zombies everywhere.

Warm Bodies is what you’d get if you took Twilight, made it self-aware and sacrificed overwhelming teen angst for a dash of much-needed humour. Yet, as much distaste I have for Twilight, Warm Bodies isn’t any better. Twilight establishes a firm set of rules when approaching its lore. Warm Bodies is tremendously muddled over that of zombies. At one moment, R is a lapsing adolescent trapped inside a dead shell and the next he’s forming sentences and controlling his cravings for flesh. The Bonies, who serve as a lacklustre stimulus for the third act, aren’t the least bit threatening unless to the film’s entertaining prospects and exist only to beef up the running time rather than to encourage the film’s message.

For a film that stresses the importance of beating heart, Warm Bodies doesn’t seem to have one. Granted, Levine emphasises the budding relationship between Hoult and Palmer by giving them screen time streets ahead of the shockingly-squandered cast, but it’s a decision that comes at too costly a price. Of course it’s tough to entertain audiences when your lead character rarely speaks but with support in the form of John Malkovich and Rob Corddry at your disposal, there’s simply no excuse for Warm Bodies to be this dull. Levine knows where to put the camera (as backed up by 50-50) but his screenwriting skills are sub-par. His previous writing effort, indie comedy The Wackness, failed to hit the mark as a coming-of-age teen drama and Warm Bodies’ gags are not only overly-casual but are all condensed into the film’s trailer.

Time might heal all wounds and laughter may be the best medicine but Levine challenges anything but love to reverse that zombie apocalypse many of us secretly yearn for. Warm Bodies holds an interesting premise that loses traction as it progresses, evoking that feeling of a fantastic short which was wrought in the name of commerce.

2/5

Watch the trailer here

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Andrew Hates... The Great Gatsby

Dir: Baz Luhrmann, 2013

New York City, the Roaring Twenties. A time of celebration and prosperity for all except Nick Carraway, who has plunged into a stupor of alcoholism and depression. Encouraged by his psychiatrist to express himself, Carraway recounts his woeful tale of the greatest man he ever met – the mysterious millionaire Jay Gatsby.

The works of Baz Luhrmann have always provided a marvellous exhibition of elegance as cameras sweep through grandiose sets and lights shine brighter than Broadway in a dazzling palette of colour. Yes, Luhrmann is as much a showman as he is a romantic. But what’s interesting about Luhrmann’s choice of these passion projects is his treatment of the production in as romantic a manner as he handles the material. His presentation of The Great Gatsby is certainly style over substance but that is not to completely dismiss Luhrmann’s interpretation of the novel as much as highlight the tremendous amalgamation of sight and sound that is flaunted in every passing minute.

Endowed with the challenge of bringing Gatsby to a new generation, Luhrmann repeats the past in revitalising his Romeo + Juliet formula for F. Scott Fitzgerald. The film is littered with exuberant sets, jazzy hip-hop soundtracks and enough pretty young faces to inject life into Leaving Certificate English. DiCaprio is near-perfect as Gatsby, reprising the facade of sophistication he wore in Revolutionary Road and the fluttering charm of a certain Montague. It’s simply a delight to see Leo embody a character that excels confidence before the world but melts into awkwardness in front of the object of his affection. Yet there is a hint of menace within this enigmatic man, a point that is regrettably stressed moreso through several lackadaisical, one-sided phone calls instead of modelling Gatsby’s behaviour. Maguire is incredibly strong as the once-idealistic but now-haunted protagonist through which we see our story and backed up by a repulsively sectarian Joel Edgerton. As a matter of fact, if anyone is short-changed here it’s Carey Mulligan, whose character isn’t explored enough for the audience to sympathise with her flummoxed Daisy Buchanan.

Nevertheless even with a running time of 130 minutes, Luhrmann brushes through the narrative; more considered with adding extra layers of varnish to what frequently resembles a heavily-stylized music video and Jay-Z’s executive producer credit leads to a Jay-Z/Beyonce-heavy soundtrack which is distracting to the point of becoming propaganda. Also, Luhrmann’s attempt to garner a wide audience results in a compromise of the subject matter as the story never reaches the depths that it should, instead tailoring itself to a 12s audience.

Yes, the films reeks a little too much of Romeo + Juliet and the melodrama reaches unbearable heights in the third act but The Great Gatsby remains a tableau of luminous colours and intoxicating performances and a rare film which I regretted not witnessing in 3D. Not the adaptation Gatsby deserves but admirable nonetheless.

3/5

Check out the trailer here

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Andrew Hates... Star Trek Into Darkness

Dir: J.J. Abrams, 2013

Reckless and disobedient, Captain Kirk of the starship Enterprise is displeasing Starfleet left and right with his arrogant yet benevolent methods. But when John Harrison, a terrorist with ties to Starfleet, attacks London and wages war against the Federation, Kirk and his crew are charged with hunting him down. This dangerous mission will force Kirk to question everything he knows about Starfleet, about friendship and about himself.

It’s been a long four years since J.J. Abrams made Star Trek cool again. Evidently not, though, for James Tiberius Kirk who is still the same brash, young captain that we loved in 2009’s reboot. However, Kirk has been proving his inaptitude at helming the Federation’s finest vessel by violating prime directives and snubbing authority as he does what he believes to be right. Chris Pine continues to juggle that perfect level of cockiness and charm in a role destined to prove that keeping the chair is harder than getting it. Still being brought to school by lovable father-figure Admiral Pike, Kirk’s level of growth this time around just isn’t considerable enough for another story, unless including his blossoming bromance with Mr Spock.

While Abrams brings more of the dazzling, smack-bang-wallop action set pieces that we saw in the first film, they seem more of a beautiful distraction – like a Michael Bay film with finesse – yearning to lure our focus away from a plot that involves cryogenics, nuclear reactors and a government’s unexplained desire for warfare. The film jumps in and out of characterisation briefly but overall adds little to anything we’ve seen before. The relationship between Spock and Uhura is almost forgotten and the former’s embracing of his mixed heritage jumps into warp along the way. Abrams’ time-travel manoeuvre in the previous outing allowed any and all manipulation of the Star Trek canon but here Abrams chooses to replicate entire scenes including lines of dialogue from the Shatner film series, albeit with minor tweaks.

The tender notion of crew/family that Star Trek left us with is revisited upon in name only, as many members of the cast are pushed to the back (literally for Anton Yelchin) with one or two amplified. Simon Pegg’s Scotty is expanded upon in an unwelcome, Ghost Protocol-like manner and Urban’s Bones is humorously beefed up as Doctor Metaphor. Sadly the likes of Zoe Saldana, John Cho and the previously-mentioned Yelchin are left by the wayside, making room for additional eye-candy Alice Eve, a deliciously dubious Peter Weller and of course, Benedict Cumberbatch’s Big Bad.

On that note, Cumberbatch owns the film as one of the most sinister, intense villains we’ve seen since Heath Ledger drove a man’s head through a pencil. Harrison’s cold and calculative nature paired with his undeniable strength and volatility makes Cumberbatch’s upcoming CGI appearance as The Hobbit’s fire-breathing antagonist Smaug suddenly look a little less daunting. In response to minor criticisms, Abrams follows up the tongue-in-cheek baddy Nero with a character that emanates menace whether he’s on-screen or not. Unfortunately in the last act, just when Harrison is at his most threatening, Abrams abandons the character in favour of gravitational difficulties and Trekkie nostalgia.

Abrams glitters the screen with remarkable actors, pristine special effects and a thankful reduction of lens flare. Funny, explosive and never a dull moment, Star Trek Into Darkness is indeed an entertaining space romp and by no means a failure. Into Darkness simply disappoints after its magnificent predecessor by lacking enough to enthrall new audiences and can’t help but leave the audience with the taste of filler in their mouth between that of Star Trek and Star Wars, the latter of which should prove to be more of the same.

3/5

Check out the trailer here

[andrewhatesmovies]

Andrew Hates... Wish You Were Here

Dir: Kieran Darcy-Smith, 2013

Married couple Dave and Alice are invited by Steph, Alice’s younger sister, and her new beau Jeremy on a sunny vacation in Cambodia. After a wild party on the beach, Jeremy goes missing. The three return home, devastated with shock, but cannot escape the tragedy of that fateful holiday as secrets begin to come to light about what happened the night of Jeremy’s disappearance.

Director Darcy-Smith, who also penned the screenplay with Felicity Price (who plays Alice), brings you Australia’s answer to The Hangover, only subtract both Bradley Cooper and an avalanche of comedy and replace them with Joel Edgerton and an equally-crushing level of guilt. Edgerton leads a terrific trio of Aussies including Price and Teresa Palmer who bring the pain as a family haunted by tragedy but none for the same reason. Darcy-Smith knows how to handle his cast, giving actors little room to breathe but knowing when to stoke the fire.

Edgerton is tremendous, brooding in a mask of anxiety whilst Price amalgamates the nerve-wracked mother and abandoned wife in a palpable state of fragility. It’s also great to see Teresa Palmer with a meatier role than that of the many patterned love interests she’s been representing in American films recently. Conversely, although we get coverage of Antony Starr’s Jeremy sufficient enough to gather an opinion of the character, that of a charming devil-may-care who plays his hand close to his chest, the brief glances we see of him in flashbacks aren’t enough to make the audience care as to just what happened to him.

At a mere ninety minutes, Wish You Were Here drags on for a peculiar amount of time, given the tension that should be building with the story being told. While the monotony of the present-day narrative is broken up by revisits to the holiday, these bursts aren’t enough to move the film forward at a healthy pace. From the get-go, it’s obvious that Dave knows more than he lets on but watching the lead character fumble about for an hour in a bizarre state of paranoia makes you question whether he’s even a character we should be connecting with. We’re treated to the cataclysmic implosion of Dave and Alice’s marriage for far too long without any hint of revelation. It’s only in the final thirty where Darcy-Smith kicks the action up a notch and tempers flare as the truth at long last comes out. Unfortunately, by the time the big reveal rears its head, it’s hard to care anymore – though not a mistake in structure as much as story.

The real tragedy of Wish You Were Here is even as the performances are at boiling point, the pace of the story isn’t observed closely enough, allowing attentions to waiver and shoulders to shrug. Recent films such as Animal Kingdom, Sleeping Beauty and Snowtown are keen demonstrations that Australian cinema is evolving in the ranks of universal storytelling. Wish You Were Here may not turn heads but it certainly won’t do anything to damage the ever-increasing reputation of contemporary Australian film.

3/5

Check out the trailer here

[andrewhatesmovies]

Andrew Hates... Maniac

Dir: Franck Khalfoun, 2013

Frank is a demented serial killer who tracks young women, scalps them and brings his souvenir home to his mannequin store where he staples the bloodied hair to the plastic skulls. Tortured by head-splitting migraines and cruel hallucinations of Mrs Bates-esque mother, suddenly Frank finds friendship in the form of a beautiful, mannequin-mad photojournalist named Anna.

Maniac is viewed primarily through the point-of-view of Frank which is an effective tool in dragging the audience kicking and screaming into the mindset of a psychotic and emotionally disturbed individual. These hammy POV shots crop up frequently since 1960’s Peeping Tom but here is an unwavering insight into how a serial killer performs his trade that is just one of many unnerving aspects of Maniac. Khalfoun pounds the audience over the head with the upsetting nature of the character. Obviously the last thing this director wants to do is soft-pedal murder but the malevolence is so grotesque and misogynistic that it is downright sickening.

From the opening credits which involve Frank driving through Los Angeles, you can immediately ascertain the heavy influence that has been taken from 2011’s Drive (clearly the director thought Cruising would be too obvious an eighties horror to polish in such a fashion). The remake has been transferred from New York City to the City of Angels, infusing the film with a significant amount of gloss and volume in an attempt to highlight the brutality of the content. In what can also be accredited to Drive (but can also be argued as a tribute to the original film) Khalfoun employs that melancholic synth sound that is so iconic of the eighties, aspiring to the audible illustriousness of The Burning or Halloween II but instead resembling something that would be present in the darker scenes of The Neverending Story.

That Frank can so openly pursue distressed women through downtown Los Angeles is a creative licence bordering on preposterous and serves as only one of the fatal reasons why Khalfoun’s message loses its merit. Frank’s tendency to dwell on reflective surfaces seems too conceited a reason to show off Elijah Wood’s face and the character’s dialogue is so blatantly recorded off-screen that the moment he begins to speak, the audience might as well be sitting in the editing booth and being asked to empathise.

I commend Maniac for taking me completely out of my comfort zone and challenging me with something interesting but ultimately, the film has little to offer other than a sadistic, chauvinistic dream world where women are cattle, men are predominant and the police are essentially nonexistent.

2/5

Check out the trailer here

[andrewhatesmovies]

Andrew Hates... Iron Man 3

Dir: Shane Black, 2013

Tony Stark, still suffering from the traumatic events of “New York”, is spending every waking hour cultivating his Iron Man suits in what girlfriend Pepper Potts believes an addictive fashion. Meanwhile, the United States government are using James Rhodes as the newly-dubbed Iron Patriot to hunt The Mandarin, who is terrorising the US with unexplained explosions. When Stark joins the hunt for the Mandarin, he is forced to confront both his newfound demons and demons he created long ago.

Shane Black, who wrote Lethal Weapon and The Last Boy Scout among others, seemed well-suited to tackle a project that served as a third Iron Man outing, a follow-up to The Avengers and the start of Marvel’s Phase Two. Black’s directorial debut Kiss Kiss Bang Bang teamed him with Downey Jr and the two certainly had chemistry so where could we go wrong with a blockbuster franchise as assured as Iron Man? Unfortunately, Black delivers a screenplay that resembles an episode of Fringe disproportionately converted to his favoured buddy-cop format.

The Iron Man films have repeatedly stated that Stark and the suit are “one and the same” but Black is all-too keen to separate the two. The scenes involving Tony Stark (as he plays detective) fail to maintain interest while the Iron Man-heavy battles are too dumb and loud to entertain anyone over the age of six. Black’s attempts to balance the characterisation cause him to fall flat but not from a failed reach for ambition as much as a misunderstanding of popcorn cinema.

Black manipulates Iron Man to his desired genre instead of tailoring the film to his talents as Tim Burton did with Batman and Kenneth Branagh did with Thor. Black is clearly having fun but his black comedy-action doesn’t mesh with the superhero blockbuster. Stark and company ineffectively use guns for extended periods while the genetically enhanced Extremis subjects are repugnantly invincible unless hit with a caustic remark.

The choreography of superhero action that we know and love is inexistent. Stark fights most of his battles suit-less (a dysfunctional attempt to reclaim the character’s humanity?) until the last twenty minutes where the film turns into a grandiose Lethal Weapon 2 meets Robot Wars. Yet the laboured moaning of Tony Stark as he lounges about Tennessee with a ten-year old boy is so horrifically nonchalant that the presence of Don Cheadle’s Iron Patriot is sorely missed, as he’s the only character actually doing something.

Whatever emotion the original film was grounded in has been replaced by an erotic advertisement for the digital age. Black castrates the Iron Man character by removing all humanity from the film and instead lacing it with automatons and mutants. The original film portrayed Tony Stark as a flawed man using the technology at his disposal to make amends but now his technology is upgraded to a level of artificial intelligence whereupon anyone can be Iron Man – you simply need the snappy dialogue to be Tony Stark.

And with the dialogue, let’s discuss the trademark Shane Black characteristics that are brought to the piece. Downey Jr delivers the one-liners with the kind of offhanded snide that you’d expect but they don’t seem to have the same zing that Black so often exuberates. The punchlines are pithy but carry no comedic weight, perhaps a drawback of coming off the back of the Joss Whedon-penned Avengers. In addition, any and all classic Downey Jr sarcasm is offered to the detriment of the drama that accompanies the anxiety plot device.

Iron Man 3 is a mess and a clear demonstration of a one-hit wonder that’s been revisited too many times.  The colour scheme and special effects create the most cinematic Iron Man yet and there’s a nice twist involving a certain character but these merits alone aren’t enough to salvage Iron Man from the Marvel scrap heap. The disaster that was Iron Man 2, whose failure couldn’t have been surpassed, has been duplicated with the minor addition of snarkier dialogue and George Lucas editing techniques. Phase Two leaps off to a horrendous start and November’s Thor: The Dark World will tell if uniting Earth’s Mightiest Heroes was the beginning of the end.

1/5

Watch the trailer here

[andrewhatesmovies]

Andrew Hates... The Place Beyond the Pines

Dir: Derek Cianfrance, 2013

Carnival motorcyclist Luke Glanton re-encounters an old flame who he discovers has been raising his one-year old son. Quitting his job, Luke uses his skills to become a bank robber which leads him to a fateful encounter with policeman Avery Cross, who also has a one-year old son.

The opening shot of The Place Beyond the Pines follows Ryan Gosling - reuniting with Blue Valentine director Derek Cianfrance – as he strolls coolly and confidently through a carnival to his battleground, the Globe of Death. This shot is shades of Tyler Durden as he marches through Lou’s Tavern to the eponymous Fight Club, right down to the red leather jacket. Both men dominate their domain and as far as Cianfrance is concerned, the audience should enjoy it because characters are going to be out of their comfort zones A LOT.

The Place Beyond the Pines is a subversive tale of responsibility, guilt, corruption and legacy in which every character is faced with a choice – to remain a slave to their circumstances or overcome adversity and rewrite their history. These challenges pit the characters in moral battles where perseverance doesn’t come lightly, even if the initial decision does. Cianfrance’s characters correspond to different levels of adulthood which all weave together to create an unorthodox coming-of-age tale. Gosling’s Handsome Luke resembles the inner-child of all of us - donning inside-out t-shirts, amateur tattoos and a beat-up motorcycle. Cooper’s Avery is more tightly-wound – the rookie cop struggling to find his place in an adult life that doesn’t resemble TV Land, a metaphysical growing pain which we all experience. Often Cianfrance revisits shades of Blue Valentine in the dysfunctional relationships between several of the characters but never to as great a depth as before, hinting at the possibility of light at the end of the tunnel (in more ways than one).

While Cianfrance’s story may be too contrived or complacent for many, one must remember this film is about parenthood and the passing of the torch – a premise that is fundamentally idealist. Unfortunately, the film strives to capture too much, leaving significant plot points underexposed or left out completely. The film’s failures are a simple result of underdevelopment and a weighty imbalance which favours the glossy, blissful opening 45 minutes. Certain cast members glow (Ben Mendelsohn) while others are vexingly superfluous (Ray Liotta) which can be said, as previously mentioned, for certain plot points.

The Place Beyond the Pines could easily have been film of the year if not for a fluctuating narrative that slips from inspired to wasteful one too many times. Superb performances all around accompanied by dazzling camerawork and a divine soundtrack, Derek Cianfrance leaps from ultra-personal to universal romanticism in a film as bold as it is talented.

4/5

Check out the trailer here

[andrewhatesmovies]

Andrew Hates... Trance

Dir: Danny Boyle, 2013

Simon is an art auctioneer who decides to execute an inside job theft of a renowned painting. When Simon stages a double-cross on his partner Franck, he receives a knock on the head which gives him amnesia and makes the painting’s whereabouts a mystery. Franck sends Simon to Elizabeth, a hypnotherapist, to try to unlock the painting’s location but Elizabeth has an objective of her own.

“Amnesia is bollocks”, bluntly states one of the brutes in Trance, Danny Boyle’s latest outing. After one of the most impressive openings in recent years, Boyle hurls us into a lurid, warped rollercoaster thriller that questions both memory and its correlation with motive. Inception, Christopher Nolan’s study of the subconscious, boasts that “the dream is real”; Danny Boyle’s less-than-swift riposte is an experimentation of sight and sound, arguing that the dream is surreal, in what could be called an homage to Hitchcock’s Spellbound. Trance employs reflective surfaces, lens flare, high contrasts, dizzying POVs and non-linear cutting to effectively evoke the inauthentic texture of the dreamscape, perplexing the viewer in regards to which scenes are not part of Boyle’s pseudo-reality. However Trance is confusion to the point of aggravation, and long before the third act you’ll find yourself wondering whether you’re meant to be with it or whether Boyle regular Alex Garland could have written it better. Odds are he could have.

James McAvoy reappears in the second of this year’s most visually stunning pictures (Welcome to the Punch being the first), coincidentally both regarding heists. McAvoy plays his usual shtick of the somewhat-disagreeable protagonist but is limited by the constant adherence to the progressively-tortuous plot. Even the talent of Vincent Cassel is wasted – an acting heavyweight whose haphazard addition to the cast after Michael Fassbender’s withdrawal is underutilised even in the role of a secondary lead. In fact, the only actor who brings game to Trance is Rosario Dawson, channelling a modern-day femme fatale while also loyally following Boyle’s leadership into an inexplicably extraneous nude scene. What’s even worse is that the actors don’t seem to be having nearly as much fun as Boyle is, masquerading his silliness in gorgeous set pieces and the pulsating score of Underworld’s Rick Smith.

“No piece of art is worth a human life” repeats James McAvoy on several occasions – words uttered with a pinch of salt as Danny Boyle illustrates another luscious display of his vast cinematic perspective. Trance’s subject matter may not be as enticing as the film itself but respect must be given toward the director. Boyle’s tenth feature showcases his tremendous ability to take a vacant story and transform it into a delicacy for the eyes and the ears, although not for the brain.

3/5

Check out the trailer here