Film Review - Avengers: Endgame (12A)

Let's go get this son of a bitch.

Oh were it that simple. Our MCU heroes have slugged it out with Thanos once already and suffered one hell of a losing battle. It'll take more than military tactics and brawn, if they want a shot at redeeming all they lost. Their task will require imagination and ingenuity, along with courage, hope and no little amount of sacrifice. They'll need, in short, to do whatever it takes. That brawn will come in handy too.

I added a proviso to my (pretty incandescent) review of Avengers: Infinity War. Magnificent though that film was, its ultimate worth rested on whether or not this follow-up could make good on its promise. Stakes had been established, loss suffered. If the devastation perpetrated by the big grape-juice guy were reversed easily and with no meaningful consequence, it would cheapen everything that made the first film such a satisfying experience. Twelve months on I am relieved to say that Endgame delivers what was required of it - in terms of spectacle and entertainment, but most importantly in those of sheer dramatic weight. Put simply, it makes the events of Infinity War count.

The film opens where it should - with a harsh reminder of how Thanos' 'snap' ravaged the Earth and far beyond it. Our surviving heroes are desolate, struggling to cope with a world plunged into mourning. Their instinct is for action, but options in that regard seem few. Only when a sliver of hope appears in the form of a plan as intricate as it is desperate, do they find a way forward. And that is all you're getting from me in terms of plot (in the unlikely circumstance that you haven't seen the movie yet).

One of Endgame's most satisfying aspects is that it allows time for grief to sink in. There's no easy brushing off of those traumatising Infinity events. True the plot elements of the opening act - the first of three distinct phases - click into place with commendable swiftness. Within that space, however, is a genuine sense of how much has been destroyed. It's the kind of deep character drama that you might never have expected to find in a comic-book movie - salved with characteristic Marvel humour, but profound and heart-wrenching nonetheless. Everything else in the movie is driven by that experience of deep loss, so that when those air-punching moments arrive later on, they feel properly earned. The flawed heroes with whom fans have lived for a decade are given space to live, breathe and develop - to work out old grievances and to wrestle with new emotions in some very unexpected ways.

There's a whole lot that's unexpected here - and even if you've guessed the story's general direction in all your fan theorising, it doesn't play out precisely how you might have predicted. The shocks come thick, even in the relatively subdued Act One, and once the Avengers' plan kicks in (a mid-section of multi-stranded virtuosity), it all goes a sublime kind of nuts. Fan service takes many forms, but here it's the very best kind - smart, well-honed and rooted in a plot that demonstrates moments of genius. Those who have invested time and emotion in the MCU as a whole are rewarded by a host of mini-surprises that will shiver them to their centre with delight.

As for Act Three - we were all expecting something immense, and in regards to pure operatic grandeur these climactic scenes do not disappoint. What they achieve in addition is a sustained Lord of the Rings-style focus on the key protagonists and their various dramatic journeys, even amid the apocalyptic mayhem. The emotional investments of two (and in some cases multiple) films pay off handsomely in character beats that bring tears of sadness and/or joy. This writing-directing power team - the Russos, Markus and McFeely - has now given us four colossal Marvel movies; they knew exactly what was needed to bring this franchise-story home and landed it to perfection.

Or nearly so. The Endgame character arcs are truly daring, some - arguably - working better than others. The endpoint of one character will be a frantic and divisive talking-point for years to come. And the story's key plot device is of a type that always threatens to drive this particular geek insane (I actually woke up trying to straighten it all out in my head). But those are personal issues and I can happily set them all aside and wrestle with them later. No enterprise this vast could achieve perfection and it's a testament to all involved that they got in the ballpark, let alone within mere yards of the end line. 

Avengers: Endgame doubles down on all the reasons people love the MCU - the humour, the heart and the heroism. It's intimately connected with all that's gone before, yet it brings a gravitas, a sense of closure, that's perhaps the biggest surprise of all. The actors who've made these roles iconic - Downey Jr, Evans, Johansson and the rest of them - have never treated this comic-book stuff with detached irony. They've lived and breathed it in all its glorious absurdity, allowing their characters to evolve, mature and appeal to our sympathies. This is the final stand they deserve - one that brings out these characters' best and confirms their importance for more than one generation. You remember that idea... The one to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more? Job most definitively done.

 

Gut Reaction: Intensity. Genuine sense of experiencing an epic, as I drank in every imagination-popping moment.

Memorable Moment: Too many to choose from, but there was one hug that I felt.

Ed's Verdict: 9.5/10. A resounding, risk-taking triumph that makes you appreciate Infinity War even more and reminds you why you love the Marvel Cinematic Universe in all its multi-faceted vastness. Unless you don't, in which case you're missing out on a whole lot of joy.

Film Review - Red Joan (12A)

My little comrade.

An unlikely spy is by definition an ideal one. Red Joan is adapted from the novel by Jennie Rooney, but inspired by the real-life case of Melita Norwood, a suburban great-grandmother apprehended in her late 80's for espionage carried out half a century earlier. The factual framework is used loosely, however, to place the movie's protagonist in a unique moral dilemma. It's not a movie that thrills, necessarily, nor is it dramatically perfect - but it does throw up some fascinating ideas.

Judi Dench plays the older version of Joan, a respectable widow whose suburban life is abruptly interrupted when MI6 come knocking on her door. Her lawyer son (Ben Miles) assumes some ridiculous misunderstanding has taken place, until the tide of evidence against her turns into a flood. In her pre-WW2 Cambridge days Joan (Sophie Cookson looking the classic English rose) was befriended - arguably groomed - by exotic fellow-student Sonya and her political agitator cousin Leo (Tom Hughes). Attracted more by Leo himself than his politics, she was drawn into Communist circles, those associations sticking to her when her theoretical physics degree led her into top secret governmental work. The choices she made in a world that tended to allow women very few form the core of the drama.

It's an intriguing premise from the start, one supremely suited to master of subtext Dame Judi - all furtive guilt under the grandmotherly exterior. Some viewers will be frustrated then that she's only used in framing scenes, the story largely carried - as the character's backstory unfolds - by Cookson. The younger actress does a sterling job, however, portraying Joan's passage from naivety to a worldliness that goes far beyond the social or sexual. She visibly changes from a rather cowed girl at the start to the passionate and intelligent young woman capable of making truly drastic choices, for better or worse. There's nice support too from the key influences in Joan's life, including Hughes (Prince Albert in royal TV drama Victoria) and Stephen Campbell Moore as her tweedy mentor in the Ministry of Defence.

What proves less satisfying is a screenplay that occasionally feels written by numbers, and that fails, in one crucial stretch of the film, to capitalise on the dramatic set-up. Seriously - when you arrive at the key thriller element of the story, let it play out properly, don't fudge it with a montage. Also if you're lucky enough to have Judi Dench as the older version of your heroine, give her dialogue a bit of proper nuance, reflecting all that ambiguity in her actions as a younger woman. Morally complex material shouldn't be painted in broad strokes as the film reaches its end. There's real meaty drama to be explored here, and it's a shame the script doesn't make the most of it.

Ultimately the extent to which you enjoy Red Joan will hinge on whether you're drawn in by the moral tangle itself and how interested you are in Joan's true motivations. In one sense this is a story about the clarity of hindsight, and how the implications of certain momentous decisions may only become apparent decades after the fact. It also deals (using the same historical licence as the novel) with one young woman's conflict in a surprising confluence of historical and personal circumstance. This isn't quite the riveting stuff it should be - but it throws out some tricky questions that stick with you beyond the end credits.

Gut Reaction: Took a while to get there, but ultimately absorbed by the central conundrum, resulting in a major post-movie discussion about fate and responsibility.

Memorable Moment: The one that makes up Joan's mind.

Ed's Verdict: 6/10. Neither the writing nor Trevor Nunn's direction shine the way they should, but the political ideas and two fine performances as Joan make this worth your time.

Film Review - Hellboy (15)

I'm demon-spawn AND a Nazi. Great.

I have a huge fondness for Guillermo del Toro's Hellboy films - 2004 and 2008 respectively. They have an infectious sense of comic-book fun, fused with the director's trademark visual aesthetics and his creature-feature love. And let's not forget an endearing central performance from Ron Perlman, a man born to wear those filed-down devil's horns. When I heard that a new version was on the way, it caused me concern - mainly that this fresh incarnation might displace the original in people's affections, maybe even my own. Turns out I really needn't have worried. Oh hell no.

Director Neil Marshall's new movie is the long-delayed result of a Part 3 in the original Hellboy franchise that never got off the ground - though it takes the form of a complete reboot. Character actor David Harbour plays the eponymous half-human/half-demon, who rounds up and dispenses with evil supernatural entities as a member of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense (BPRD). Rescued as a fork-tailed red child from the Nazis by monster-hunter Professor Broom (Ian McShane), he is plagued by identity issues, no matter how often he chisels away at his horny protuberances. It's an issue only exacerbated once ancient sorceress Nimue aka The Blood Queen (Milla Jovovich) makes a grand comeback, having been brutally dispatched by King Arthur back in the day. She's plotting a revenge grand enough to precipitate the Apocalypse, while present our snarling hero with an offer he might find tough to refuse. 

If all of the above sounds preposterous, well Hellboy is precisely that, right back to the original Mike Mignola comic-books - and in the right hands (Del Toro's just for example) it proves an advantage. Here, however, there's too much relentless noise and confusion from the start for any of the diabolical monster-madness to work. The screenplay is all over the shop - full of heavy-handed flashbacks to explain the backstory of protagonist, associates and villains all alike. Meanwhile in the present we're expected to care about who Hellboy's tracking down and his reasons for doing so; shorn of context along with horns, and with no help from a charmless script, that's simply not happening.

Tonal inconsistency serves to compound these problems. In an effort to distinguish itself from the Del Toro version, the movie revels in its R-rating  - shlocky gore ladled over the crassly comic, expletive-heavy screenplay - while still attempting to be sentimental at points on the basis of its half-assed character development. Director Marshall has some good notches in his belt (Dog Soldiers, The Descent and two battle-centric Games of Thrones episodes are all to his credit), but here he presides over a muddled and joyless CGI-swamped mess that never threatens to cohere, as one noisy set-piece crashes into another.

Needless to say the cast struggle to find any kind of footing as the plot lurches around, spilling its great buckets of exposition along with the blood. Harbour might be an okay Hellboy were he given anything of substance to work with, likewise Sasha Lane and Daniel Dae Kim as sidekicks bolted on too awkwardly to form an organic-feeling team. Even McShane's customary charm can't spark any enjoyment, while Sophie Okonedo (so delightful in the recent Wild Rose) is landed with surely the most thankless role of her career - Woman Who Shows Up To Explain Stuff Before Dying. Oh, and don't get me started on Stephen Graham's motion-capture turn as a Scouse-accented pig fairy. The Line of Duty star is one of the UK's finest, but even he can't do anything to remedy this additional comedy misfire.

With its studio budget the film demonstrates flickers of what might have been - creature and set designs that genuinely impress, neatly choreographed fight sequences, themes of identity and divided loyalty on which a better script could have properly capitalised. All potential is blown early and repeatedly, however, so that the promise mid- and post-credits of a follow-up rings particularly hollow. With this new comic-book universe so poorly established, surely no one will be begging for a sequel. Not when you can go back and watch the old Del Toro gang all over again. Come to think of it, that's an excellent idea. My Hellboy faith needs some serious restoring.

Gut Reaction: One protracted bout of yawning, regular physical discomfort and moments of advanced exasperation. I mean this was a serious chore from start to finish.

Memorable Moment: There was a bit with a big walking house. That was quite cool.

Ed's Verdict: 3/10. Not a disaster in technical terms, but mismanaged on every other level. Loud, relentless and deeply dull.

Film Review - Wild Rose (15)

Ain't no yellow brick road runnin' through Glasgow.

If A Star is Born tells the story of one woman's catapult-trajectory into musical fame, Wild Rose focuses on realities that are rather more mundane. Sure Lady Gaga's character Ally had to swallow some tough truths about life in the music industry, but the 'Rose' of Tom Harper's new film may never get a foot in the door to begin with - and it's not just the flaky nature of the X-Factor era that's keeping her back. Wild Rose doesn't have the glamour of the Gaga remake, but what and who it does have is impressive in its own right.

Jessie Buckley plays Rose-Lynn Harlan, singer since the age of fourteen at the Grand Ole Opry - not the one in Nashville, Tennessee, its namesake in Glasgow, Scotland. She's just completed a year-long prison sentence so stardom is scarcely beckoning, but then 'Johnny Cash was a convicted felon', as she reminds one detractor. A cleaning job at a well-to-do couple's townhouse provides her with an unexpected lead in her search for success, but a criminal record isn't the only thing holding her back. She's a mother of two young children, with her own mum (Julie Walters) constantly reminding her of her primary responsibilities in life and how incompatible they are with artistic strivings. Rose's dream of Nashville is fraught with real-life complications.

The Wild Rose story is familiar to anyone who's followed the travails of musical wannabes on reality TV. What it has in addition is a tough honesty that undercuts much of those shows' sentimentality. The sweary, funny, sometimes emotionally bruising screenplay gets to the heart of Rose, refusing to sugar-coat either her or her grim circumstances. Harper's direction is appropriately edgy, while the cinematography bleeds out colour to emphasise housing estate grey. The gulf between Rose's environment and her Americana fantasies couldn't be more clear.

Carrying the film on her shoulders and bearing it up nearer to greatness is Buckley. Already a star for those who've seen TV drama Taboo or the BBC's recent War and Peace saga (also directed by Harper), the girl from Killarney, Ireland is now on the cusp of global celebrity. Her Rose is mouthy and life-embracing, belligerent, damaged and vulnerable - instinctively honest in what she blurts out and yet simultaneously self-deluding. She's a mum who still acts like a child and who's most alive fronting a band on stage. To the credit of both actress and screenplay she's allowed to be a total train-wreck - barely likeable at points, as she stumbles from one disaster to the next. It's a strikingly real portrayal and thus all the more powerful when reality finally hits. As for her singing voice - it's as soulful as her Glaswegian speech is earthy, rivalling Gaga for her emotional richness and vocal control. It provides Rose with an undeniably special talent at odds with her drab surroundings. 

Buckley isn't alone in delivering first-rate work either. Julie Walters brings her customary realness, tempering Grandma's disapproval with warmth and making us feel the woman's despair. Two lovely child performances complete Rose's family (while acting as endearing obstacles to her showbiz greatness), and Sophie Okonedo is amusingly over-the-top as our heroine's social-climbing employer/number-one-fan Susannah.

To quote Tom Jones, however, this is all about the voice, and in this case the tempestuous personality behind it. Rose may not always be easy to like, but we understand her conflict and ultimately root for her - that she'll embrace her family like they need her to, and still get to share her gift with the world. Is that too much for a working-class Glasgow girl to ask?

Gut Reaction: An emotional gamut - laughter, irritation, sympathy, sadness - and a bit of joy (not least at the dramatic and musical craft on display).

Memorable Moment: No chords. Just the painful truth.

Ed's Verdict: 8/10. Wild Rose is a solidly told story of frustrated dreams, but it attains a whole other level due to a lead performance of gobsmacking awesomeness. World, time to meet Jessie Buckley.

Netflix Mini-Review - The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (15)

I got to set myself up in the undertakin' business. Stop doin' all the skill work so another man can profit.

The Gist: The ballad in question makes up one sixth of this western anthology from Joel and Ethan Coen. Yes - half a dozen tales of America's 19th century New Frontier are told here, as though we're leafing through the same beautifully bound and archaic volume of stories. It begins with Buster Scruggs himself (Tim Blake Nelson), a singing cowboy who's lethally quick on the draw. Scruggs' tunefully violent adventure preps us for what's in store... The tone may vary, but these narratives - whether of a bank robber's bad day, an obsessive gold prospector or a slow-burn wagon train romance - are all heavy with mortality and a sense of how brutally unpredictable life can be. 

The Juice: This is the American West, Coen Brothers style, and it helps to be savvy regarding that style going in. For thirty-five years this fraternal duo has been making movies about movies - their tales part parody, part homage to existing film genres, but never without an eccentricity all their own. The classic westerns of Howard Hawks and John Ford (shot through with the flinch-worthy violence of Sam Peckinpah) provide their starting point here. A Best Original Screenplay nomination at this year's Oscars was well-earned; The Ballad of Buster Scruggs has all the wit, pith and philosophy that Coen fans will expect, their relish in the western idiom resulting in dialogue chewy as tobacco from an idiosyncratic cast of characters. Their command of storytelling is on full display too - both in some tales' sense of fatalism and the blindsiding twists of others. As ever there's a formidable battery of acting talent, with Nelson's eponymous sharp-shooter, Zoe Kazan's demure spinster and Tom Waits' mad-eyed prospector only three gems among many. Add to that cinematographer Bruno Delbonnel's eye for those rugged locations and Carter Burwell's elegaic score and you have yourself one well-honed compendium of Wild West fiction, skewed by that unmistakable Ethan&Joel style. 

The Judgement: 8.5/10. While it starts off like one of the Coens' more lightweight offerings (the actual Buster Scruggs bit is an extended albeit hilarious joke), this deepens and darkens as it proceeds, gaining ever-greater dramatic weight. The storybook West is a perfect backdrop for this meditation on human frailty, with the final two tales - one sober, one grimly funny - bringing the point home. It's unforgiving stuff, but redeemed by intelligence, humour and the sheer craft on display. Coens and cowboys - they were destined to make great art together, even if it's resolutely downbeat. Saddle up for a bumpy cross-prairie ride.

Film Review - Dumbo (PG)

You've seen a horse-fly... You've seen a dragonfly...

We're going to be bombarded this year by live(-ish) action remakes of classic Disney animations, of which Dumbo is but the first. This can be viewed in one of two ways - the cynical milking of a cash-cow (cash-pachyderm in this case?) or the creative re-imagining of great cinematic stories that deserve to be brought to a new generation of youngsters. Being a glass-half-full kind of blog Filmic Forays will opt for the latter stance, which means it's all about the quality of Dumbo 2019 and whether it has anything new to offer. And while the film isn't proving an elephantine success at the box-office, it certainly took flight for me. (A pun embargo will hereon be enforced.)

The 1941 version of Helen Aberson's children's book is a relatively slight affair (it comes in at 64 minutes), so this Tim Burton retelling beefs things up substantially. The events of the original film serve as the first of two acts, with Medici Bros circus-elephant Mrs Jumbo giving birth to the humungous-eared baby who comes to be known as 'Dumbo'. Ridiculed by audiences for his physical abnormality, he nevertheless has a secret that will amaze them - the ability to fly courtesy of those same enormous lugs. So far, so familiar. The almost entirely new second act involves impresario V. A. Vandervere (Michael Keaton) and what befalls both Dumbo and the Medici troupe when this charismatic newcomer introduces them to the big-time.

The expansion of the Dumbo tale gives much room for writer Ehren Kruger and Burton to craft a distinctive vision, one stripped of talking-animal whimsy and with a much more human feel. This take on the little elephant with big dreams is darker for sure, set as it is in 1919, post-war and post-flu pandemic. Both have taken their toll on the circus's horse-riding Farrier family, with dad Hope (Colin Farrell at his most sympathetic) returning from the battle front to pick up the pieces for kids Milly and Joe. The entire troupe is a community of lovable misfits, the circus a frayed and paint-peeling shadow of former glories, presided over by its increasingly desperate owner Max Medici (Danny Devito visibly loving the chance to work with Burton a fourth time). It's into this boisterous environment that Dumbo is born, a vision of advanced CGI cuteness.

 

It's a brash and lively opening, one that speeds through the well-known stuff, before embracing the new part of the tale - Medici's Faustian bargain with Keaton's flamboyant but shady futurist. Here Burton's mastery of filmic setting asserts itself, as the rustic colours of the humble travelling-show are replaced by the mega-circus's garish splendour. Keaton meanwhile sneers like few others can, clearly enjoying his reunion with the Batman director as much as Devito. It's Eva Green, however, who adds the most glamour and mystique to the Vandervere scenes as trapeze artist Collette Marchant. 

If I have one issue with the new Dumbo, it's that the bolstered human element undermines suspension of disbelief (for adults at least), crucially on that issue of whether or not an elephant can truly fly. Frankly you end up thinking too much about the aerodynamics of the situation. It also means that whatever else you're feeling, and however detailed the CGI, there's not quite the emotional connection with the title character that you might hope. That said, someone behind me was snuffling a lot when Dumbo's relationship with his mother was jeopardised, so maybe that's just me.

Ultimately this is a visually magnificent film, boosted by a solidly crafted story and eased along by an evocative period score from Burton's regular musical collaborator Danny Elfman. Along with the core story of an outsider triumphing in the face of derision are broader themes of family, community, capitalist greed, self-discovery and - naturally - animal rights. None of it feels crowbarred in either, just a natural extension of the classic Dumbo story. A good addition to the Tim Burton canon then, and a Disney remake that's nicely justified its place in the world.

Gut Reaction: No tears, but fully engaged and entertained, while undergoing eyeball ravishment throughout.

Memorable Moment: Mess with Mummy Jumbo at your peril.

Ed's Verdict: 7.5/10. A fully realised Burtonian world, with plenty of enjoyable nods to the original. Family entertainment with a trunkful of charm. (Pun embargo lifted.)

Film Review - Shazam! (12A)

Oh hey, 'sup? I'm a super-hero!

With the current slew of comic-book movies taking up space in mainstream cinema, a fresh approach for each is essential. Shazam! (note exclamation mark) is all freshness, and one of the most instantly likeable films of the year to date. For all its two-hour running time it's pretty much pure joy, revelling in its premise - Tom Hanks' Big revisited as a super-hero flick - but managing to be something more.

Asher Angel plays Billy Batson, a fourteen-year-old runaway from numerous foster homes, who's considering doing a similar disappearing act from his latest carers (the amiable Vasquez family). That's until he encounters an ancient wizard (Djimon Hounsou), who's searching for a pure soul to defend Earth against - well - some bad supernatural dudes. Billy is granted the power to transform himself via the word 'Shazam!', into a super-powered adult version of himself, complete with spandex suit and Christopher Reeve physique. Sharing his secret is fellow foster-kid Freddy Freeman (Jack Dylan Grazer), a wise-cracking misfit, who has insight into the workings of the whole 'super' thing. Together they set about exploring the nature of Billy's powers, while elsewhere the evil of which Billy has been warned is brewing...

Shazam! is chiefly memorable for its sheer comic exuberance, an element which comes into full force once Billy transforms for the first time. By then we're already up to speed on the lad's grim backstory and have met his new foster clan (underneath all the super-heroic hi-jinx this is an open-hearted tale of finding family, with Cooper Andrews and Marta Milans radiating warmth as the surrogate parents). Time has also been spent establishing Billy's rapport with the fast-talking Freddy, so that there's a sense of the developing relationship, even as he zaps back and forth between his teen self and the eponymous super-guy. However gleefully silly the film becomes, it's grounded in real human connection.

As Shazam, Zachary Levi (best known for his TV and voiceover work) gives a performance to be treasured, one that fully embraces his gauche inner teen. There's not a false vocal note or physical tic here to blow the illusion - you accept instantly that this is the adolescent Billy in a Superman body. The effect is duly hilarious. Teen awkwardness combines with boyish euphoria at being granted amazing abilities - cue much sweetly judged slapstick as Billy tests his boundaries. Grazer serves as a terrific foil (he's already impressed as hypochondriac Eddie Kaspbrak in 2017's horror sensation IT), managing to be funny and affecting, a vulnerable kid basking in his friend's magical good fortune. It's the year's most original double-act - one half of it shared by actors twenty-two years apart. 

The Vasquez' motley foster-crew provide an additional ensemble feel, while Mark Strong does good villain duties as the embittered Dr. Thaddeus Savana. Always dependable, Strong peps up the scenes that traditionally bog down a superhero origins tale. His character arc also adds some dark 12A horror elements at odds with the sense of fairground fun elsewhere. There's a whole lot going on here - arguably too much - in a story that might benefit from some editorial trimming in its final act. Happily its exhilaration and the lovable nature of its characters carry you to the end.

Shazam! is DC's most satisfying creative achievement to date - a cohesive standalone tale like Wonder Woman or Aquaman, but with a sharper screenplay than either of those two. It's a bubblegum crowd-pleaser making cheeky reference to a wider comic-book universe, but existing on its own terms. You'll love the boyish escapades of Billy and Freddy so much that when the sequel is teased, you won't mind a jot. Bring it on. Let's Shazam! some more.

Gut Reaction: Laughter - the out-loud kind and lots of it. Also some genuinely warm fuzzies.

Memorable Moment: The super-power testing montage.

Ed's Verdict: 8/10. 'Big' in its comedy and sincere in its characterisation, Shazam! is this year's Bumblebee - a family event movie with heart and a massive sense of fun. Take the kids, particularly your own inner one.