300: Rise of an Empire

If there's one thing which can be said about 300: Rise of an Empire, it is that it shouldn't be screened in an A Level Ancient Greek revision class. Its history is, to say the least, rather suspect and will certainly do the student of Ancient Greece no favours. More fundamentally, however, it shouldn't be shown because it is absolutely rubbish.

300: Rise of an Empire developed from the cult success of Zack Snyder's 2007 film 300, a movie with distinctive comic book visuals and with a slow motion, voyeuristic fascination with spurting blood and violence. The original saw Gerard Butler shout his way through the Battle of Thermopylae and 300: Rise of an Empire takes place at the same time, albeit on the other side of the Greco-Persian wars. Snyder's film had a lot going on in it: a beguiling visual aesthetic, intense violence, a coherent narrative and a camp undertone which didn't take itself too seriously. Oh, and lots of topless men.

Its sequel/prequel retains the topless warriors but dispenses with everything else, resulting in a film which is flat, narratively garbled and rather boring. Director Noam Murro shows a fundamental lack of understanding when it comes to narrative cinema and the film appears to sleepwalk between one battle and another, interspersed with rousing speeches (often delivered by our hero Themistocles, played by the Australian Sullivan Stapleton), which are neither rousing nor engaging.

Themistocles leads the Athenian army (who, I must point out, are much less ripped than their Spartan counterparts) and Stapleton's performance is just about adequate, even if his accent does jump around as much as a gap year student. The trouble lies, however, in the film's plot – or lack of one – and whilst the action sequences may be filmed and constructed well, this amounts to little when the audience have no investment in the characters and the narrative leaves each battle sequence high and dry (slightly ironic as most of the battles take place on the sea). It is not enough to throw blood-drenched battle after blood-drenched battle at the audience and hope that they'll find it interesting. Without the crucial narrative framework, there's more excitement to be had at a bingo hall than during the 102 minutes of 300: Rise of an Empire.

Perhaps the only saving grace of this film is Eva Green, who is ravishing as the baddie Artemisia, and she really does throw herself into the role and shows herself to be more than capable of wielding a sword. The original 300 had much to say and it appears as if its sequel is attempting to do the same. In reality, however, its self-awareness is lost and it tries rather too hard to be both visceral and edgy. Half way through the film, we're treated (or should that be subjected?) to the most bizarre one-night-stand you will ever see in the cinema and the film misjudges its sexual politics to a great extent. Naked men may be plentiful but the film's male gaze is firmly directed at women: evident in the costumes in which Eva Green is placed.

300: Rise of the Empire may have the blood, violence and visuals to make it a companion piece to300, but its lack of any semblance of narrative will leave you thinking “and so what”? There's only so much shouting and inspirational speeches that one can take. The overall effect is rather anaesthetising.

Clapperboard Rating: *

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Wes Anderson is one of the few directors whose work is instantly recognisable, such is his visual flair and narrative quirk. The Grand Budapest Hotel continues his tradition of perfectly-staged and ordered chaos, infused with rich dialogue and wit and it is a film which is charming whilst being slightly melancholic.

Set in the fictional middle-European state of Zubrowka and at the institution of the Grand Budapest Hotel, an establishment frequented by duchesses, politicians and high society alike, the film uncoils like a spring. Opening with our narrator (played by both Tom Wilkinson and Jude Law) recounting his meeting with the hotel’s owner Mr Moustafa (played by F Murray Abraham and in youth by Tony Revolori), who in turn introduces us to the protagonist M. Gustave (Ralph Fiennes), the hotel’s 1930s concierge. The film focuses on Gustave and Moustafa’s friendship as the latter becomes the former’s protégée as a hotel lobby boy. Got that? Good.

Ralph Fiennes is, perhaps, less well-known for his humorous roles, but here his comedic timing and physical acting is assured and engaging. As the disarming and rather sanguine concierge, Fiennes’ performance zips around the screen with great energy and intensity as M. Gustave attends to the every need of the hotel’s guests (needs which, he informs the young Mr Moustafa, must be anticipated before the guests themselves realise). Indeed, it is not only Fiennes’ talents which are worthy of praise: the entire cast are aware that they are in a Wes Anderson film and, as a result, give performances which are simultaneously controlled and dynamic. 

The cast list reads like a who’s-who of the acting world: Adrien Brody, Willem Defoe, Jeff Goldblum, Harvey Keitel, Bill Murray, Edward Norton, Tilda Swinton, Saoirse Ronan, Jason Schwartzman and Owen Wilson all make appearances. The plot jumps around, one minute murder is the topic of the day, then art theft, jail breaking and then all-out war, all grounded by Fiennes’ delightful performance and Anderson’s immersive style of direction.

Anderson’s film-making is all about artifice: every camera angle is worked out to the most exact of degrees, each tracking shot stops at a precise point, the actors move as if programmed by computer and the sets have more detail in them than the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Anderson’s visual craftsmanship is plain to see and there is not a single scene in which characters are not framed by something, reinforcing the stage and performance aspect of the film. Staying at the Grand Budapest Hotel is all about theatrics and performance, and the audience are not allowed to forget that. The film’s aspect ratio jumps around, title cards appear at regular intervals and carefully considered colour schemes permeate each frame.

This is scientific film-making. But none of this detracts from the charm and warmth with which Anderson approaches his subject matter – subject matter which addresses themes of age, loss, nostalgia and progress. With its collection of odd characters, sharp script, perfectly-pitched performances and stunning visuals, The Grand Budapest Hotel is a gem in the canon of Wes Anderson. Just like the cakes which pop up throughout the film, it is a sumptuous delight of film-making. 

Clappeboard Rating: * * * * 

Non-Stop

One of the best ways (in my mind at least) to pass the tedium and discomfort of long haul flying is to watch a film…or three. Last summer, I went travelling and suffered ten flights in ten weeks and all but two had a great selection of in-flight entertainment (the two without a personal screen at your seat were operated by Bangkok Airways, who instead opted to show an episode of Mr Bean – bizarre). The choice of genres on aeroplane flights is usually very good and sometimes a film is enhanced because of the context of watching it on a flight. Non-Stop, a film about a hijacking, really does deserve to be seen on a plane. And here’s why…

Liam Neeson has taken on a variety of roles over the years: the loving father in Love Actually and the killing, don’t-mess-with-my-family father in Taken and Taken 2. And it is the latter “I will find you and I will kill you” character which pops up again in Non-Stop. Neeson plays a US air marshal who, we establish within the first minute of the film, has a drink problem. On a flight to London, he starts receiving mysterious text messages from one of his fellow passengers who threatens to kill a passenger every twenty minutes unless his demands are met. And this is all you need to know to explain the subsequent ninety minutes of Liam Neeson running around, beating up passengers and brandishing a gun as if it were a news reporter’s microphone.

Put quite simply, Non-Stop is ridiculous. Preposterous. Absurd. So ludicrous that it makes Star Wars look like a Ken Loach work of social realism. The film’s third act will leave you slightly bewildered and the characters, the dialogue and the plot arcs are sensationalist to say the least. Indeed, quite how a plane-full of people can’t hear a fight-to-the-death happening in the cabin toilets is a mystery.

Neeson’s performance is standard fare – gruff, hulking and a bit unpredictable, but totally in keeping with the film’s tone. And I’ve nothing against him being an action hero – I’d even say he’s quite good at it. Julianne Moore plays his only supporter on the flight and Michelle Dockery (of Downton Abbey fame) is the slightly suspicious, always polite stewardess. For a film which is predominantly set in the confines of an aeroplane, I have to say that it never drags and the action keeps the film rolling along at a fair old pace.

I’ve said that Non-Stop is a ridiculous film but in many ways, this isn’t to its detriment. For what it is – a no-brain, bang, crash, whallop action thriller – it does go through the motions in an entertaining manner and Neeson is absolutely fine as its protagonist. It’s just a shame that the initial intrigue and (dare I say it) potential for intelligent discussion of issues affecting today’s society (which was setup in the beginning) was totally forgotten about, to be replaced with more shouting and violence than at Primark’s Boxing Day sales. But, in many ways, this was never going to be anything more than a standard thriller with our man Liam.

Non-Stop is as outlandish as it is loud. It makes, however, for a fun and solid action film and I started this review by saying that it would be the perfect movie to watch on a plane. A hijacking film may seem like an odd choice, but it is so ludicrous that you can be safe in the knowledge it will never, ever, happen. 

Clapperboard Rating: * * *