Paper Towns

This review was first published in The Student Pocket Guide

In recent years, we have seen the emergence of a literary genre which has garnered as many critics as it has fans. Young-adult fiction (or YA, as it is also known) has proved to be very popular amongst its target demographic, focusing as it does on teenage angst, emotion and adversity. Such novels translate well to film and last year's The Fault in Our Stars – based on the YA book of the same name by John Green – was well-received by audiences and critics alike. And now the latest John Green novel to receive the big screen treatment, Paper Towns, is set to hit cinemas.

Paper Towns is notable for being the first film to star Cara Delevingne, the supermodel most famous for those eyebrows. Delevingne plays Margo, a free-spirited and enigmatic girl who captured the heart of Quentin (Nat Wolff) when the pair were growing up opposite the street from one another. Quentin's rather unadventurous childhood was at odds with Margo's more wild and complex early years and their initial friendship fizzles out. Fast-forward to the last days of high school and Quentin remains infatuated, just as the rest of the school is, with the mystery and beauty of Margo.

One night, Margo appears at Quentin's bedroom window and convinces him to join her in a series of pranks to take revenge on her ex-boyfriend and best friend. Letting down his guard, Quentin joins her and finds his sense of youthful abandon and fun. The next morning, however, Margo has gone (her parents are not worried - “she is 18, after all”) and Quentin is left wondering what, if anything, the previous night meant for their relationship. Then, in a rather strange plot device, Quentin discovers a series of clues left behind by Margo which he follows, together with his friends, to try and find Margo and confess his love.

This rather contrived plot drives a film which is part coming of age drama, part comedy, part mystery and part road trip and which speaks to its target audience with an affecting sincerity. The central relationship between Margo and Quentin is as frustrating as it is intriguing and the film brilliantly captures the immediacy and potency of adolescent feelings and relationships.

Shot with a vibrant edge, there are many moving moments peppered throughout the film. An early scene sees Margo and Quentin dancing atop a skyscraper, hinting at the intimacy for which Quentin longs. His lack of confidence, when placed opposite the self-assurance of Margo, is plain to see. Scenes such as these speak of the struggle between image and reality which often troubles teenagers: to the rest of the school Margo is the outgoing and popular girl, beautiful and bold enough to hang with the jocks. Underneath, however, she struggles to find an identity in, as she sees it, the blandness of suburban Orlando.

Perhaps as a result of her modelling career, Cara Delevingne is magnetic, enchanting the camera with an ambiguous and confident performance. Indeed, scenes without her (which make up much of the, rather weak, middle of the film) seem slightly dull in comparison and her acting career looks to be very promising. That is not to say that the other performances are inert. Nat Wolff manages to keep the audience on-side and some of his final sequences are charged with convincing emotion. The banter with his two best buddies (played by Justice Smith and Austin Abrams) is well-written and frequently funny. Paper Towns nears its zenith during the road trip to find Margo, mixing laughs, good tunes and blossoming relationships with assured and believable acting.

But Paper Towns' greatest feature is its ending which captures the essence of adolescent years. Quentin's love for Margo seems to him to be, at the time, the most intoxicating and important thing in the world. In reality, theirs is a relationship built within the messy, intense, chaotic and confused lives of teenagers. The film's ending is refreshing in its rejection of the idealistic and romanticised plots of other teen movies, challenging the audience whilst retaining a sense of youthful optimism.

Paper Towns is uneven and its plot is rather implausible, but its characters are relatable and the film has something definite to say on growing up and the meaning of adolescent relationships. Haters gonna hate, but young-adult fiction certainly has a deserved place in our cinemas.

Clapperboard Rating: * * *

Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation

In recent years, spying in Hollywood has been dominated by three main franchises: Bond, Bourne and Mission: Impossible. Two have unmistakable theme tunes and the other is noted for its gritty realism, at odds with many action blockbusters which have increasingly depended on computer special effects. No one, however, could accuse Mission:Impossible – Rogue Nation of an over-reliance on CGI. It is a film which opens with Tom Cruise literally hanging on for dear life to the side of an aeroplane as it takes off. Not bad for a 53-year-old.

The fifth outing for Ethan Hunt (Cruise) and his fellow IMF operatives sees CIA Director Hunley (Alec Baldwin) attempt to shut down the IMF as a result of its rather erratic and destructive activities, as seen in the previous film. It soon becomes clear, however, that the CIA is not the only threat to the IMF's existence when the shadowy terrorist organisation known as The Syndicate, led by the rather creepy Solomon Lane (Sean Harris), attempts to wreak havoc.

These are the bare bones of a plot which strings together a series of action sequences (some rip-roaringly outrageous, some less so) and, whilst the action jumps around the globe, the threat from The Syndicate feels anything but global. Not that such set pieces are ineffective: indeed, the film is at its best when it throws itself fully into the absurdity and unashamed implausibility of Hunt et al's escapades. The stakes, however, are never raised high enough for any of it to much matter.

Tom Cruise's enthusiasm and sheer star power is evident and, supported by Simon Pegg as IMF tech wizard Benji and Rebecca Ferguson as British (is that double?) agent Isla Faust, he remains a compelling action hero. Cruise's insistence on doing his own stunts (which necessarily demands that his fellow actors do so as well) landed him with six injuries during the course of filming and it wouldn't be surprising if the vast majority of the film's investment from Alibaba Pictures (part of the Chinese e-commerce group Alibaba) went on paying for the cast's insurance premiums.

The M:I franchise has benefited from a different director for each film, imbuing each with a unique tone and identity. Brian De Palma, John Woo, J. J. Abrams and Brad Bird have each directed an instalment and Rogue Nation is helmed by Christopher McQuarrie, whose previous credits as a screenwriter include The Usual Suspects, Valkyrie and Edge of Tomorrow. In the director's seat, however, McQuarrie is overwhelmed by Cruise and the whole film feels like a wild theme park dedicated to Cruise's attempts to kill himself.

Slightly silly, you might think, to be expecting auteurism from a M:I film, but in the absence of any genre originality in the film's plotting, a stronger directorial style would have lifted the film. This is not to say that Rogue Nation falls flat. Within the first thirty minutes, the action zips around the globe from Casablanca to Vienna, Cuba to Paris, and would have surely boosted Ethan Hunt's frequent flyer points no end. A rather Hitchcockian sequence at the Austrian opera (complete with bullets timed to fire when the opera singer hits the high note) and the prerequisite Cruise-on-a-motorbike scene are enjoyable, even if we have seen them all before.

Despite some slightly questionable dialogue – “he is the living manifestation of destiny” – the script is a lively and often humorous affair, especially when Simon Pegg flexes his comedic muscle (although he is notably less goofy than in previous films). Sean Harris as the head of The Syndicate makes for a rather unsettling villain, rasping and twitching his way through stealing USB drives and causing chaos for Hunt and crew.

Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation is an enjoyable spectacle but the excitement diffuses well before you reach the cinema exit. It lacks the combination of spectacular gadgetry and truly original stunts which characterised earlier films and which sets the series apart from the likes of Bond and Bourne. As summer blockbusters go, you could do a lot worse. But that's hardly a ringing endorsement, is it?

Clapperboard Rating: * * * 

This review was first published in The Student Pocket Guide 

Magic Mike XXL

Perhaps the first thing to say about Magic Mike XXL is that it's a full five inches...I mean minutes...longer than the first film. But rather than this meaning five more minutes of an engaging plot, an interesting commentary on the nature of modern masculinity, and well-developed characters – just as we had in the original film – Magic Mike XXL goes to prove that bigger doesn't always mean better.

2012's Magic Mike was as surprising as it was sexually charged. Steven Soderbergh's film was primarily a drama which just happened to involve male strippers and there was plenty aside from the nakedness to keep the audience involved with the characters. But with Gregory Jacobs, the first film's assistant director, taking over from Soderbergh in the directing chair, Mike and his gang of male entertainers have lost the plot. Quite literally.

The central problem with XXL is that it has virtually no plot. This was of course, rather predictable, as the sole reason for the film's commissioning was to cash in on those female dollars. Not that there is anything inherently wrong with this, but a trace of narrative integrity would have been nice. The bare bones of the plot, if I can call it that, see Mike (Channing Tatum) being tempted back to his former profession, hitting the road with the Kings of Tampa on their way to a stripping convention for one last blow-out performance. Along the way, there's plenty of banter, abs and conversations about how Big Dick Richie (Joe Manganiello) got his name.

Aside from this plot which is as thick as a sheer dress, the film is punctuated with several stripping performances, ranging from a rather random sequence in a country mansion strip club, to Manganiello undressing in a service station and a bizarre encounter with a group of cougars, headed by Andie MacDowell. There is no doubt that the dancing sequences are well choreographed and nicely shot (Soderbergh is, once again, cinematographer) and the cast certainly throw themselves head-first into the fun. But with anaemic dialogue and a lack of believable characters with which the audience can empathise, the film gyrates from one performance to another with no clear narrative trajectory or coherence.

Whereas the first film managed to explore the conflict between the on-stage and off-stage lives of its characters and the impact of drugs and money on friendship, XXL is tonally confused and the film doesn't seem to know if it's a comedy, a drama or simply an extended music video. Some would argue that none of this matters and that the film is a pure a piece of disposable entertainment. Whilst there is an element of truth to this, a script which was a little less focused on making money and more focused on striking a balance between the fun of the stripping and the predicaments of the characters themselves would have been welcome.

I've got a lot of respect for Channing Tatum (not just for the hours he obviously puts in at the gym) and he is one of Hollywood's men of the moment. From a technical perspective, he is a superb dancer and his physical energy on-screen is infectious. Tatum's acting and emotional range has increased enormously in recent years and he is has a very relatable, natural screen presence. There are glimpses of this in XXL but these are, unfortunately, smothered by the cringe-worthy dialogue and polished dance routines.

Magic Mike XXL is focused entirely on giving women what they want or, more accurately, what it thinks that they want. Yes, the oiled chests, bulging posing pouches and winks from Mr Tatum are satisfying and yes, the film will take a shed load of money because of it. But as a vehicle for such antics, the film is devoid of any merit. I'm aware that I've referred a lot to the original movie in this review, a film I gave 3 stars back in 2012. In comparison to XXL, the first film is a masterpiece. Now, I'm off to the gym...

Clapperboard Rating: * 

Amy

It's a scene synonymous with modern celebrity culture. A paparazzi mob briefly parts and a young and dazed woman staggers through the suffocating mass of camera flashes. That woman is Amy Winehouse – famous for her incredible vocal talents and her untimely, sad demise. Deeply uncomfortable for anyone watching Amy, the footage is emblematic of a life lived – and lost – in front of intense media and public attention.

Asif Kapadia is a maestro of the documentary genre and Amy is a master-class in the art of editing. Having collated a wide range of archival footage, from family home videos to mobile phone clips and official television programmes, Kapadia and editor Chris King have managed to construct a compelling and coherent narrative which tells of Amy's rise to meteoric stardom and the pressures encountered by a woman for whom fame and commercial success were unwanted by-products of her love for creating jazz music. In one sequence, a young Amy says that she wouldn't handle fame well, suggesting that it might be the death of her. The ultimate tragedy is that she went on to be a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Early on in the film, we discover that Amy doesn't consider herself to be a songwriter, although she does “write poetry”. And it is this poetry on which Kapadia chooses to focus, displaying the lyrics from Amy's songs on-screen and using them to construct a narrative in conjunction with voice-overs from those who knew and worked with the star (there are no talking heads here to distract from the immersion in the archival footage). Whilst there is an element of contrivance in using her lyrics to create and reflect the film's narrative, it is nonetheless a very successful way of threading together otherwise disparate source material.

This brilliant editing is coupled with the film's non-judgemental, but resolute and unflinching approach to the events in Amy's life: events as dramatic as they are sad to watch. The media circus which enveloped Amy is explored, as is her troubled relationship with Blake Fielder and the role that her father played in her later years. The audience is left to draw their own conclusions and Kapadia carefully intertwines the archive footage with the interviews and song lyrics to create a bold, heartbreaking film.

Early scenes of Amy's successes give a glimpse of a girl with a talent far beyond her years and her lack of confidence during an Abbey Road recording session with Tony Bennett is touching. Towards the end of the film, she finds out that she has won a Grammy award, but her surprise is soon tempered by the sadness that her relationship with drugs has left her life empty and unfulfilling. Moments such as these look staged, as if written by a screenwriter. It is Amy's ultimate tragedy that this was, in fact, real life.

Amy is a powerful and desperately sad film. Amy Winehouse's unique talent catapulted her into a world where, for the most part, she felt uncomfortable and lost. She was arguably surrounded by the wrong people at the wrong time and faced debilitating media scrutiny. Kapadia's film is an impressive and affecting piece of work and documents the very best – and worst – of a girl who had nothing if not an astounding set of lungs.

Clapperboard Rating: * * * *

Minions

They say you can never have too much of a good thing – a true motto, if the third film in the Despicable Me franchise is anything to go by. Those little guys in yellow who have an obsession with bananas and all things evil are back with a film to call their own, having delighted audiences as Gru's henchmen in the previous Despicable Me films. With more slapstick gags, cute smiles and nonsensical conversation than you could shake...well, a banana at, Minions is a fun and satisfyingly silly affair.

Minions acts as a prequel to the events of the first two films, charting the rise of the minions from the primordial soup and their affiliations with the bad guys of history, long before meeting Gru. No sooner as the minions enter the service of a villain, however, they prove to be the undoing of their master. From tyrannical Egyptians to Count Dracula, the minions always seem to find a way to accidentally cause their downfall. When the minions lose the battle of Waterloo for Napoleon, they are sent into exile and it is there that these happy-go-lucky yellow chaps get rather depressed at the prospect of not serving a criminal mastermind. But one minion called Kevin has an idea to venture back out into the world and, along with his fellow minions Bob and Stuart, seek out a new evil master.

The trio's quest takes them to London in the 1960s and into the service of super-villain Scarlet Overkill (voiced by Sandra Bullock) who has a plan to steal the Queen's crown and overthrow England. And here we have the bones of a plot which is, sadly, rather underdeveloped and which clearly plays to a younger audience than the first Despicable Me films.

The villains don't feel as dynamic or inventive as in the minions' previous outings and whilst there are some witty observations on British society (the British are far too polite to complain about being overthrown by a criminal mastermind), such comic detail never rivals the kind of jokes seen in films from, for example, Aardman Animations. Nevertheless, the film makers have approached the premise of Minions with an energy and enthusiasm which has to be admired, and there's plenty to keep both kids and big kids entertained.

If you think about it, on paper, Minions was always going to be tricky to pull off. The film's protagonists speak in 99% gibberish with the odd recognisable word thrown in (“banana!”) and to create an engaging and, importantly, funny script was always going to be a challenge. Despite this, the emphasis on visual gags, the loveable nature of the minion hordes and the interactions between Kevin, Stuart and Bob keep the film afloat.

Aside from director Pierre Coffin providing the voices for all 899 minions (imagine how many helium balloons he got through), the film features the stellar vocal talent of Sandra Bullock, Jon Hamm, Steve Coogan, Jennifer Saunders, Geoffrey Rush, Allison Janney, Michael Keaton and, of course, Steve Carell.

Minions will delight fans of the goggled yellow people and it feels like a film which is worthy of their crazy, and often hilarious, antics. It's nothing ground-breaking and it is slightly let down by its plot but it would be very difficult to leave the cinema without wanting to take a minion home. Never has tyranny been so loveable.

Clapperboard Rating: * * * 

This review was first published in The Student Pocket Guide 

Jurassic World

There's a moment in Jurassic World when a giant aquatic dinosaur leaps from the water and engulfs a shark hanging over its pool, much to the delight of the theme park's spectators. The symbolism is obvious – this film will eat Jaws for breakfast, quite literally. References to Steven Spielberg's canon (the director served as Executive Producer) run throughout Jurassic World and, in terms of spectacle, it certainly beats Jaws and is on par with the Spielberg's Jurassic Park. Just as the original film did, Jurassic World will amaze and enthral audiences and is a pleasing, if underdeveloped, blockbuster.

Set 22 years after the events of the original film, Jurassic World takes the audience back to Isla Nublar which is now home to a theme park which would have surpassed even John Hammond's wildest dreams for a dinosaur paradise. No-one, it seems, has learnt the lessons of history. The visitor experiences and amenities are slick affairs and a consumerist culture saturates the attractions. But for all the wondrous dinosaurs roaming the island, visitor numbers are declining: the public are no longer amazed by extinct animals, even if they are 60 foot high. With corporate pressures bearing down on them, the park's owners decide to genetically engineer a big new dinosaur to attract the crowds, one with a louder roar, bigger claws and more teeth. Things, however, take a rather nasty turn when the star exhibit manages to escape from its 'high-security' enclosure.

Events in Jurassic World are as predictable as the tide and from the moment we are introduced to the Indominus Rex and her many teeth, the film's plot runs its course as you would expect. But the thing is, this doesn't matter. Indeed, it adds to the audience's enjoyment of the film and the building sense of the inevitable – people are going to get eaten.

As blockbuster fare goes, Jurassic World is about as big – and as loud – as it gets and there is something very pleasing about seeing on-screen monsters which are ostensibly fictional but are, in reality, based in fact. Of course, the idea of their revival from extinction is pure Hollywood, but the fact that such beasts once roamed the planet makes the action and subsequent death-by-eating all the more exhilarating. Some have said that the film's pacing slows in the middle but I think that it maintains a healthy pace throughout, shifting from one dinosaur escape to another, culminating in hundreds of pterodactyls descending onto the terrified crowds below.

There are several plot strands which run throughout the film, focusing on the park's director of operations, Claire (played by Bryce Dallas Howard) and her two nephews who come to visit the park. Throw in a love interest in the form of Chris Pratt's character, Owen, who is trying to train the velociraptors and a few rather shady individuals intent on developing dinosaurs as weapons, and you have a cast who commit fully to their parts but, in terms of characterisation, are rather underdeveloped.

This is the most significant problem with the film. The 1993 film (just as much of Spielberg’s work) managed to balance terrific spectacle with careful characterisation so that the audience could empathise with the characters as they were being chased by a hungry raptor. In Jurassic World, however, the special effects seem to take precedence over a coherent plot and engaging protagonists. That said, the film's script does have plenty of comic moments between the characters (in particular between Dallas Howard and Pratt) but this is, again, overshadowed by plot holes and plot developments which are seemingly forgotten about or never concluded to a satisfactory level.

I don't wish, however, to let this detract from a film which, overall, is really enjoyable and visually breathtaking. The special effects (now predominantly CGI but animatronics were also used) are impressive, especially in the film's dinosaur-on-dinosaur denouement and the raptor encounters. I genuinely found myself smiling in wonder at some of the set-pieces, feeling as I did when I first watched Jurassic Park aged ten. Swooping establishing shots of helicopters gliding over the island accompanied by John Williams' familiar theme music will satisfy every Jurassic fan. Nods and references to the first film are handled nicely and the film manages to maintain the sense of threat and fear which makes the thought of escaped dinosaurs such good screen material.

Jurassic World provides all the scares, thrills and teeth that you could want. It has a self-awareness, whether in terms of referencing its preceding films, or in the consumerist theme-park culture which has emerged in recent years, which is refreshing and it excels in its arresting action sequences. It's a shame the the characterisation lets the film down somewhat but I have to say that I still really, really enjoyed it. Now, where has that T-Rex got to...?!

Clapperboard Reviews: * * * *

Testament of Youth

When the credits rolled at the end of Testament of Youth, there was a palpable atmosphere in Screen 2 of the Palace Verona cinema in Sydney. It is a sure sign of an effective – and affective – film when the audience takes a moment to reflect on what they have just watched, instead of trampling over spilt popcorn in a dash for the toilets. That moment or two of pure silence in the auditorium was definite and, but I can't help feeling that it was the silence of an audience denied the chance to see a film truly worthy of its source material.

Considered a classic work of twentieth-century literature, not least for its feminist and pacifist leanings, Vera Brittain’s 1933 memoir Testament of Youth is a highly-personal account of the impact of war on middle-class families, the upheaval of British society and the terrible suffering inflicted on those left behind on the outbreak of the First World War. Notable as it is for being one of the first female accounts of the irrevocable damage done to a whole generation, Brittain’s work endures to this day as a compelling account of the domestic impact of total war. Such a vivid and personal work had the potential for an even more affecting film, but one can’t help feeling that the big screen adaptation of Brittain’s early life only scratches the surface of such important issues.

Directed by TV-turned-film director James Kent, Testament of Youth is a very handsome affair. Visually, the film radiates quality, starting with the cinematography which captures the rural beauty of pre-war Britain with an effortless and exquisite sensibility. The camera dances around the characters in early scenes evocative of the world of Evelyn Waugh: a world of public schools, rolling countryside and, when Vera receives an offer to study at Oxford, orderly and scholastically-tranquil cities. The camera is not afraid to focus intimately on the faces of the characters or present Oxford in an idyllic glow. And then there's the cast. Most recognisable is Game of Thrones' Kit Harington as Vera's love interest, Roland. Harington's performance is genial and sincere and will certainly provide some eye-candy for the women in the audience, as he courts Vera (constantly, however, under the watchful eye of a chaperone). 

But it is Harington's opposite, Alicia Vikander, who steals the show. Vikander came to international attention in the superb Danish film A Royal Affair and, whilst it may seem odd to cast a Swedish actress in the role of Vera, Vikander's accent rarely defaults from the cut-glass English accent of Ms Brittain. The hopes and loves of Vera – and their eventual destruction – are intensely and convincingly conveyed by Vikander, as she portrays the journey of Vera from the serene Oxford quad to the suffocating nursing hut on the killing fields of France. Vikander really is fantastic.

Any film version of Testament of Youth was, thanks to its subject matter, always going to be defined by its central subjects of war, friendship and, in particular, grief. It explores the sense of peer pressure felt amongst the young generation of men who felt compelled to enlist, if not for King and country, then for their friends and for the expectations of society. There can be no arguing that the film doesn't pull at the heart strings and there are some individual scenes which are totally devastating (Dominic West's intense expression of a father's private grief in the most public of settings is a notable example). But the sum of individual emotionally-piercing moments does not, I'm afraid, make for a film which works as a whole. 

 

The central problem is that the narrative takes the audience through a plot which is instantly recognisable and which has been seen many times before. From its idyllic beginnings, one knows exactly where the film is headed, and the script seems, on some level, to treat the audience as rather dim. The beginning of war is flagged by the camera focusing on a newspaper headline, the news of a death foreshadowed by an scene of excited anticipation, and the film's moral message summed up in a rather contrived speech towards the end of the film. We've seen this all before, and I can't help but find this to be a rather lazy approach to film-making (made worse by the evident care and detail with which the cinematography, mise-en-sène and acting is approached). In essence, Testament of Youth had such potential to be powerful, intelligent and cautionary, just as its source material was and is. In the end, however, the film's romantic and melodramatic strains overwhelm any incisive commentary on the nature of war, love and the experiences of women in a time of unprecedented struggle. 

 

In the end, I can forgive Testament of Youth for much. It is powerfully-acted, constructed with great care and beauty and contains much to be admired. But, despite its explicit horrors of death, grief and sacrifice, it feels a little inert and I left the cinema moved, but wishing it had been so much more.

Clapperboard Rating: * * * and-a-half!