Spectre

Under the steady and assured hand of Daniel Craig, James Bond has arrived in the twenty-first century. Any franchise with 24 films under its belt will inevitably have its ups and downs, but Bond pre-Craig frequently fell into cliché and mediocrity. That is not to dismiss Pierce Brosnan's efforts, but his was a 007 who wrestled far too much against poor scripting and predictable plotting; too many gags and not enough gravity to proceedings.

With Brosnan gone and a suave, blonde Shrek in his place, the Bond films have, if not reinvented, reinvigorated Ian Fleming's creation, balancing style with substance, stunning action and a relevance to today's world. Spectre condenses the best elements of Craig's previous outings as Bond and cements him as one of the franchise's best.

Spectre picks up from events in Skyfall and the supporting cast make a welcome return. Naomie Harris strikes a thoroughly-modern Moneypenny, Ben Whishaw stresses and quips as technology guru Q and Ralph Fiennes, taking over from Judi Dench as M, tries – in vain – to rein in Bond. 007's errant behaviour is not M's only concern, however, as Max Denbigh (played by Andrew Scott), the new head of the Centre of National Security, attempts to close the 00 programme for good.

As usual, such Whitehall politics are not Bond's primary concern: he's on the trail of the mysterious organisation known as SPECTRE. With Q and Moneypenny's help, the trail leads Bond to Dr Madeleine Swann (Léa Seydoux), who might hold the key to untangling SPECTRE. But, as he heads closer to the truth, Bond discovers that the organisation's head is uncomfortably familiar.

Following on from his successes with Skyfall, director Sam Mendes has again created a weighty, beautifully-crafted film. The opening continuous tracking shot, which weaves in amongst a Day of the Dead parade in Mexico City, is a captivating preface to a brilliant (if absurd) helicopter action sequence, which sees 007 literally beating up the pilot as the chopper does barrel rolls metres above the parade crowds. Not the most believable of scenes (and a later encounter sees Bond trying to control a plane with its wings sheared off) but, hey, who goes to see a James Bond film for a sense of reality?

That said, the script's themes – cyber-security and surveillance – do feel very current. “You're a kite dancing in a hurricane, Mr Bond”, Jesper Christensen (as Mr White) chillingly whispers. That hurricane takes the form of a whirlwind of data, electronic espionage and double-crossings. Daniel Craig approaches all of this with his usual mixture of refinement and physical prowess: if nothing else, the man knows how to wear a suit. Christoph Waltz is great as 007's adversary, playing a technology-loving villain that could only work within a Bond film.

The film is, tonally, perhaps not as dark as some of the trailers would have you believe, but it satisfyingly nods to the raised eyebrow humour of earlier films: as Bond escapes a collapsing building, he lands on a conveniently-located sofa, readjusting his tie as he does so. Later on, he is rather riled when a new Aston Martin is given to 009 rather than to him, and effectively steals it, leaving Q a bottle of champagne in its place. This is a playful – and immensely stylish – Bond. This confident sense of effortless style extends to the Bond girls, the mantle this time passed to Monica Bellucci and Léa Seydoux. As the enigmatic (and oldest ever!) Bond girl, Bellucci smoulders on-screen, in contrast to Seydoux's more churlish but equally beguiling Dr Swann.

Even at its 148 minutes running time, the film never drags and its resolution, whilst not a great coup in the 007 formula, is satisfying. Linked to the subject of endings, Sam Smith's rather derided theme, really does work in the film's opening titles, with its soaring orchestration and melancholy timbre. Screenwriters John Logan, Neal Purvis, Robert Wade and Jez Butterworth have done a great job of fitting the film into the Daniel Craig canon, by placing SPECTRE at the centre of all of the previous three films.

Spectre oozes sophistication and action, and the unique elements which make a Bond film coalesce in an engaging and hugely enjoyable manner are crafted with love and enthusiasm. If Spectre is Craig's last Bond (and it could well be), then he will left the franchise in ruder health than ever.

Clapperboard Rating: * * * * *

The Martian

This review was first published in The Student Pocket Guide
 

If we’ve learnt one thing from science fiction films, it’s that space travel never goes smoothly. Ever. Space adventures such as Apollo 13, Moon, Prometheus, Interstellar or Gravity certainly won’t be used in the promotional trailers for Richard Branson’s Virgin Galactic spaceline. But even if we’ve heard the words “Houston, we have a problem” a thousand times before on-screen, there’s something about man pitting himself against the incomprehensible vastness of the universe that keeps us coming back to the cinema for more (albeit with our feet safely planted on terrafirma).

And so it is with The Martian, a film as derivative as they come but with a glint in its eye and a captivating central performance which suggests that maybe, just maybe, experiencing the wonders of space might not be such a bad thing after all.

Matt Damon plays Mark Watney, an astronaut and botanist who is presumed dead after a manned mission to Mars goes wrong and a huge storm cuts him off from the rest of his crew. Faced with the realisation that he has no immediate way of contacting Earth and that help, if it comes, is three years away, Watney must survive on a planet which wants to kill him. The film, directed by Ridley Scott, is based on Andy Weir’s self-published book – an internet hit which, although a work of sci-fi, very much emphasised the science side of things.

One of Watney’s most immediate concerns is how to grow potatoes on a planet devoid of nutrients or water (it’s more compelling than it sounds, trust me). In his own words, he has to work out how to “science the shit” out of his predicament. Back on Earth, meanwhile, the initial elation on discovering that Watney is still alive soon turns to one massive techie headache: how can mission control possibly rescue him in time, before his meagre supplies run out? Finding solutions to the problem falls to NASA’s top brass, played by an impressive, if underused, cast including Jeff Daniels, Sean Bean, Chiwetel Ejiofor and Kristen Wiig.

Perhaps the most surprising element of the film is just how funny it is. After initially resigning himself to the fact that he’s going to die on Mars, Watney gives it his best shot to beat the red planet, approaching his task with a healthy dose of sarcasm and wit: “in your face Neil Armstrong!” he exclaims, after a small victory. This humour is reflected in scenes back on Earth, where jokes revolve around Lord of the Rings references: a refreshing change from the screenplay of Ridley Scott’s earlier film Prometheus, which seemed unable to go two pages without having protracted and contrived existential discussions on God and humanity. In contrast, The Martian is much more light-hearted and all-the-more enjoyable for it. When was the last time you watched a sci-fi film with a soundtrack from Abba?!

Jessica Chastain as the mission commander (with an unhealthy taste in disco music) is as brilliant as ever and Matt Damon, who has never had an issue about connecting with audiences, proves to be an endearing and magnetic protagonist. The success of the film is afforded, in a large part, by his screen presence and the ability to carry an audience with him through the film’s slightly-too-long 141 minutes. That said, the action never really drags, the nerdy banter stays fresh and the film’s denouement channels elements of Gravity to create a gripping conclusion to Watney’s ordeal.

The Martian is a welcome return to form for Ridley Scott and strikes the right balance between entertainment whilst touching on the serious issues of the human spirit and our place in the universe. The film’s script provides the solid backbone for a film which, whilst treading a well-worn path, manages to remain engaging and smart. It’s a lot of fun and will enlighten you on the life-saving properties of gaffer tape. If that isn’t a reason to see a film, I don’t know what is.

Clapperboard Rating: * * * *

A Walk In The Woods

This review was first published in The Student Pocket Guide

Grab your boots! We’re off on the walking trip of a lifetime! A Walk In The Woods is an adaptation of Bill Bryson’s travel memoir of the same name, which recounted his attempt to walk the 2,200 mile Appalachian Trail with his long-lost friend Stephen Katz. Miles of breathtaking scenery, top banter and new experiences galore makes for a great book but, unfortunately, the same can’t be said for the film.

Flying in the face of warnings that such a long hiking trip is madness (not least from his wife, played by the ever-wonderful Emma Thompson), Bill Bryson (Robert Redford) sets out on one last big adventure to find peace and tranquility. The only trouble is, his walking partner Katz (a ruddy-faced Nick Nolte) has a rather different idea of what the hike will offer, namely an escape from unpaid debts and potential prison time.

The genesis of a screen adaptation of A Walk In The Woods has been a long one, and one which has been overseen by Redford for some ten years. Redford hoped to bring Paul Newman on board but Newman’s death in 2008 stalled the project. When Nick Nolte took on the role of Stephen Katz, who is as cantankerous as any walking partner could be, the book’s long hike into cinemas was nearly complete.

Opening with Bill Bryson giving a TV interview in which he can’t seem to get a word in edgeways, the film paints Bryson as a restless and discontented writer whose literary success and countless awards count for little. In order for him to be happy in retirement, a new adventure of self-reflection is needed. In reality, Bryson was in his 40s when he walked the trail, slightly different from Redford who will be celebrating his 80^th birthday next year. This fact defines the film, which is stuffed full with geriatric jokes and laughs which revolve around Nolte and Redford’s longing for the good old days.

Anyone who has read Bill Bryson’s humorous and effortless prose will be ultimately disappointed with Ken Kwapis’ film. Glimpses of Bryson’s writing struggle through the screenplay which, unfortunately, is riddled with clichés and pedestrian dialogue. This is not to say that proceedings are devoid of any laughs, and occasional one-liners elicit a few chuckles. Nolte’s performance as Bryson’s washed-up companion also raises a few smiles but his gruff tones and bickering with Redford all seem a bit uninspired and unremarkable.

As the pair trudge through beautiful scenery (shot with a quasi-travel documentary edge), encounter bears and constantly bemoan their advanced age, their journey of self-reflection and redemption is pleasant enough to watch but one can’t help feeling that the whole thing is rather inconsequential. A thread of sentimentality runs throughout the film but, at times, borders on the ridiculous, especially when we see our protagonists in their sleeping bags staring up at the stars and pondering on opportunities missed and the futility of their lives.

On an overall level, A Walk In The Woods feels as if a tired and weary Kwapis made it the day after finishing the Appalachian Trail himself: the energy of Bryson’s writing is lost and the film’s lethargic pace threatens to smother the rather enjoyable comedic tone of the film. In essence, it’s less of a walk, and more of a slog through the woods.

Clapperboard Rating: * *